Big Things!

As Hurricane Sandy sings her way through New York, I bid you all a safe and spooky All Hallow's Eve's Eve with a nudge towards another blog tearing up the season in gargantuan style. You all know and love T.L. Bugg, he the keeper and swatter of The Lightning Bug's Lair. This October, he's been posting up a storm (or tropical cyclone, however the weather people now choose to classify it) with daily posts on gigantic monsters.

Though such a focus seems to violate my belief that smaller things are scary (see February's annual Attack of the Shorties), I fully endorse the Bugg's seasonal posts, in part because he let me share a few of my own virtually gifted picks. Head on yonder for mack trucks, white worms, underrated sequels, and face punch-ins (because giants are generally really good at it). 

Plus, you get the Bugg's take on one of monster cinema's proudest moments, THEM! 

What more do you want? The power back on? Puh-leaze.

Unless you need it to read our posts. Then I guess you're entitled to that dream.

Bayside Cheese In Your Stocking: Holiday In Handcuffs

As I cycle through the ABC Family Channel and Lifetime's Christmas themed offerings, I'm noticing a few repetitve themes about, apparently,  the extreme difficulty attractive women face around the holidays. Among them:

-Overbearring families

-Seemingly perfect siblings

-Job trouble

-Randomly available and readily employed suitors

-Montages

-Slow-motion stress buildups that show just how noisy life really is

-Living in huge apartments despite aforementioned job trouble

Holiday In Handcuffs--not a porn, although the title and premise scream for one--features all these threads, but beats the likes of Snowglobe and Golden Christmas (about a magical golden retriever who reunites childhood sweethearts and has puppies who she then abandons, natch) because it also includes a climax that involves figure skating.

Hence, best Christmas movie since Silent Night Deadly Night 2.

Quick Plot: Poor Trudie (Clarissa, giving a slightly better performance than in Nine Dead) lives in a sprawling but messy loft apartment and works as a diner waitress while trying to get a sales job set up by her dad (the increasingly eerily George Bush Jr. resembling Tim Bottoms). At about the 3/4 mark of the film, we also learn that she's a frustrated painter because just like V.C. Andrews novels, no Lifetime heroine can be relatable without a hidden artistic talent.

Most importantly, she's single, which means (to the target audience) her life is worthless.

AND she has terrible hair.

Thankfully, A.C. Slater has come to town to slip on ice, play hockey, dangle around an engagement ring and take his shirt off. A catch like this, why WOULDN'T you kidnap him with a 19th century musket, tie him up with a wool scarf, secure his hands with fuzzy cuffs provided by the kindly & kinky gas station attendent, and tell  your folks that your new boyfriend gets off on pretending to be held hostage?

Admittedly, the initial introduction of Mario Lopez to Trudie's clueless family is not without chuckles, as their daftness about their daughter's crime comes close to rivaling the Dodos' empty headedness of Follow That Bird. Once the humor gets broader--i.e., let's meet the dirty talking grandma who uses the word 'tatas'--and Lopez has to turn genuine, Holiday In Handcuffs loses most of its charms.

I don't know about you, but I don't particularly want to live in a world where Melissa Joan Hart reproduces with Mario Lopez. Heck, I don't want to believe Mario Lopez has sex with anyone other than himself, and even that makes me feel bad for him because I'm sorry but WHO WANTS TO HAVE SEX WITH MARIO LOPEZ?

Oh right, Mario Lopez does.

But just like the token love interest in Snowglobe, he studied architecture and is somewhat available (a pesky fiancee is easily discarded). Lopez gets the edge by having an orphan sob story, so with a little nudging to Trudie's artistic talent and, you know, a how-can-I-not-fall-in-love-with-the-cute-blond-who-can-do-double-axels sequence, everyone has a merry Christmas.

Even Grams' tatas.

  

Lessons Learned

Sooner or later, guys overpower girls

The word ‘crap’ is quite tacky

Little known fact: nervous breakdowns come in sizes

As do awkward publicity photos

The Winning Line

“I’m just dating a few guys. I didn’t say I slept with them. I’m not a slut.”

Nope Clarissa' little sister, you're just a tease.

Stray SVU Connection

Just before queuing up Holiday In Handcuffs, I set the tone by watching the episode of Law & Order: SVU titled "Svengali," wherein Mad Men's Jarred Harris plays a sadistic artist whose charisma inspires young women to murder for him. At one point, the camera lingers over Harris' portraits and I would bet a pair of Chris Meloni eyebrows that they were crafted by the same painter who made Trudie's sketches. Should I find that as rewarding as I do?

Open Xmas Question

Does any family consisting solely of grown adults spend Christmas Eve gathered around while one member reads Twas the Night Before Christmas out loud? Admittedly, my folks were never big on holiday traditions, but SERIOUSLY?

Token Slapstick Alert
Someone read a book about funny things that happen on ice, and hence, Holiday In Handcuffs gives us several "Ow, that's gonna hurt!" sequences on a frozen pond

Montage Mania
Two by my count, as we follow Slater's gradual glee at being kidnapped by insane Christmas geeks and later, his sadness at an impending unhappy marriage

Sass Factor

Trudie's man-hating, man-sleeping-with best friend who gets to dress like a Christmas hooker while telling police officers how terrible their penises are

Stocking Stuffer or Stuffed With Coal

Holiday in Handcuffs is a horror film, just for different reasons than Don't Open Til Christmas or good-spirited director Ron Underwood's more amazing Tremors. Being part of a family that still insists on writing letters to Santa when the kids are in their 30s, having to listen to Mom talk about her annual and unfulfilling birthday sex, and worst of all, being trapped in a secluded cabin with Mario Lopez is far more terrifying than anything Billy OR Ricky Caldwell did through bloodied Santa suits. All this being said, the movie--streaming on Netflix--is cute for people that think things like this are cute.

Or I could just look at puppy pictures and enjoy something that's actually cuter.

Nah, I'm Just a Worm

There's a whole lot to love about Tremors. Big hungry worms. An adorable bromance. Kevin Bacon's feathered locks. Pole vaulting. Reba McEntire. The fact that it's an easy go-to when defending '90s horror as having at least SOME merit.

As for the sequels, I know not much about them. I watched Part 2 back in the days of VHS and all I remember was the lack of the Bacon. As with breakfast buffets or cobb salads, that's usually a bad thing.

Parts 3 & 4 were apparently made for the SyFy Channel before it got hip with the Ys. Now you might call me a wild one for daring to jump ahead to the last film without the continuity of its predecessors, but guess what? There's a lotta things about me you don't know anything about. Things you wouldn't understand. Things you COULDN’T understand. Things...you shouldn't understand. 

I’m a loner. A rebel. You know the rest.

Wait, where was I? Right, see, Tremors 4 is actually a prequel set in the old west and co-starring Billy '7 Mummies' Drago, a fact that results in the following:

1. I can skip parts 2 & 3
2. I must watch this movie

Quick Plot: Welcome to Rejection, population: dwindling. When 17 miners are mysteriously (and savagely) killed, only a handful of townsfolk remain. Among them are Juan, a hard-working Mexican with dreams of owning a range, Christine, a spunky redheaded innkeeper, the Changs, Chinese immigrants turned general store owners, and Tecopa, a Native American. There might have been a few more pieces of fodder--er, characters, but let's answer the question that's really burning your bottom:

Michael Gross (he to the Tremors-verse what Brad Dourif is to Child’s Playland or Costas Mandylor is to the Saw movies) is top-billed and yet, you say, this film is set a good 70 years or so before the birth of his franchise character, Burt Gummer, the gun-loving trucker-hat wearing country boy so handy with a firearm. Taking a note from Back to the Future, Tremors 4 casts Gross as Hiram, the great great (maybe still great, I'm bad with numbers) granpaw of our modern hero. 

A good deal of humor comes from Gross's portrayal of his previous character's exact opposite: Hiram is a prissy, sheltered investor raised with a silver spoon shoved so far in it reaches his prim mustache. Those who know the series will be amused by his mannerisms, chuckling at how he holds a gun as if he were Denise Richards trying to figure out how to open a dictionary.

But as much as we love Mr. Keating, the reason to watch any Tremors film is a little less complex: carnivorous worms! On that front, Tremors 4 is...okay. It’s refreshing that the creatures are done with practical effects (though some gooey splatter bares the mark of SyFy quality CGI) and the film adds some fun by playing with the size and age of the creatures. We came for the worms, we get the worms, and while they’re not spectacular, they’re still worms. 

Speaking of worms, Billy Drago shows up! The genre movie slummer gives a fun turn as

a sharp shooter hired to fight the tremors and teach Hiram how to handle a pistol. It’s amusing.

And ‘amusing’ is pretty much the best way to sum up Tremors 4. Does it capture the energy of the first film? No, but that’s a juggernaut too special to be repeated on a straight-to-Sci-Fi-Channel original. Still, the movie is a good time in a bag-o-microwave-popcorn kind of way, and sometimes, that’s the snack we need.

High Points

You have to love any film that begins with a clean decapitation played for gentle laughs

Low Points

MINOR SPOILERS

Tremors has never been a mean franchise--in a way, it’s almost like the Brendan Fraser of horror comedy--and therefore, once we reach a point a good 30 minutes from the end where the only characters left alive are the friendly batch of townspeople with big dreams, it’s pretty obvious that none of them will be wormed

Lessons Learned

No one goes without a hat in China

Naming your town ‘Rejection’ ain’t such a bright idea

Rich people are always fat. Even if you think ‘hey, he’s rich and rather slim,’ you’ll probably learn that said he has actually lost all his fortune and is therefore not required to be fat

Rent/Bury/Buy

Tremors 4 is a good-hearted TV-PG rated monster film, one fit for a busy Sunday afternoon filled with sorting laundry or making your office lunch for the rest of the week. It’s not an overly exciting time, but hey, it has a nice spirit about it and offers plenty of wry smiles for those who love a good worming.

The Truest Test of Endurance

.Last week, I considered the lack of obesity in horror films. Despite their tendencies to consume heavy amounts of calorie laden beer and hungry inspiring drugs, most victims in standard releases still maintain a striking physical resemblance to catalog models. At the same time--and much more realistically--most lack the endurance to last long against giant madmen, black magic enhanced hunters, or highly infectious carnivores. 

Hence, this week I look at a few films that cleverly cast characters with the physical aptitude to fight off your typical horror villains. Not all survive and not all the films are any good, but each deserves a little credit for amassing some worthy warriors. 

Mulberry Street

This surprisingly good After Dark series entry brings the fast vampiric zombie sub-genre into the streets of Manhattan. Not the most revolutionary premise, but Mulberry Street does earn some innovative points for the diversity--both in age and ethnicity--of its featured cast. Middle aged immigrants, elderly hermits, and a few believable teens make a refreshingly real cast, but it’s the skillful integration of physical fitness into everyday New Yorkers that gives some impressive action. Credit goes to writers Nick Damici and Jim Mickle for finding creative ways to smoothly squeeze athletic characters into the story. A retired boxer, recent Iraq war veteran, and beefy bouncer can hold their own against rat-bitten barflies. And while it’s always fun to watch regular folks torn apart by infected cannibals, seeing the victims put up a kickass fight is far more rewarding.

Jeepers Creepers 2

Dead teenager films are more common than me getting angry at Emmy snubs, but rarely do the adolescent victim bodies prove to be worth more than their Gap provided wardrobe. Victor Salva’s followup to the surprisingly spry Jeepers Creepers strands a busload of high school basketball players and the least perky cheerleading squad in cinema history on a dusty mountain road, where a very hungry monster is busy cramming in his supper before a 23 year hibernation. While the premise sets up the possibility of teamwork and game plans, the endgame is far less interesting as the kids would rather squabble with thinly veiled racism than apply court lessons to a man-eating creature. 

Tremors

Don’t let the fluffy haired era of Kevin Bacon’s early career fool you. Whether it’s a strict Baptist city council or the power of Meryl Streep, America’s most ubiquitous actor is a force to be reckoned with. When backed by NRA poster couple Michael Gross and Reba MacEntire, Alcatraz ex-con Fred Ward, and surprisingly adept practical pole vaulter Finn Carter, gigantic prehistoric earthworms don’t stand a chance. 

Dog Soldiers, The Descent, Doomsday

Does Neil Marshall get partial financing from Bally’s Total Fitness or that guy outside my subway that hands out postcards every morning for a three week bootcamp? From highly trained soldiers to fully ripped spelunkers to plague surviving action heroes, each of his genre films has featured a fully fit cast ready to fight back against any threat, whether it comes in the form of werewolves, cavemen, or cannibalistic punks. Sure, the body count is high in all three films, but nobody goes down without first inflicting serious damage. 

Nightmare on Elm Street Part 4

When it comes to teenagers, Freddy Krueger has predictable tastes. He likes ‘em young, pretty, and generally ectomorphic. Occasionally, he takes a break from Seventeencover girls and slim pretty boys to hunt tougher prey, such as the dive team champ of Part 5. In Renny Harlin’s fourth installment, Freddy hits the gym and zeros in on some of the fittest adolescents ever seen in 1990s cinema. There’s the muscleman Kincaid, whose clearly been bulking up after nearly losing his life in Part 3, and a karate kid wannabe with a sadly inadequate training regime, plus a Kafka-esque kill which I regularly use to justify my aversion to toning. Sure, Freddy also cheats his diet a bit to eat some pizza and a few weaker pickings (like the asthmatic science nerd and 90 pound weakling that can’t even beat up a water bed), but all that filler ultimately leads up to a showdown with a physically/mentally/spiritually empowered wallflower who finds her inner Karate Kid Part III. Hilary Swank salutes you.

Resident Evil

Some filmgoers can only watch so many decaying corpses feed on helpless living creatures before it just gets old. In this era of Z-Day Awareness, we horror fans want our living dead to be challenged and our survivors to be smart. Thankfully, Raccoon City is fully equipped with resourceful SWAT teams able to navigate (somewhat) Cube-esque slicing traps and hordes of hungry zombies. By the sequel, heroine Alice gets enough biogenetic enhancements to conquer a newly bred man-beast with power that would make Mark Maguire strike out with envy. The third film does one better by turning Alice into such a machine that no fast running flesh eater or post-apocalyptic hillbilly stands a chance. More importantly, Alice gets her own posse in the form of a battle scarred caravan. None are particularly badass (nor is the film particularly good), but at least they fight well enough to convince us why they’ve survived a few rounds of good old fashioned noshing.

So hit the gym, drink your protein shakes, and add a few of your own well-trained horror casts that make those bad guys work for their dinner.