Take Me Down To the Nightmare City (where the zombies are mean and they sure ain't pretty)

Few sub-genres have such a vast range in quality as zombie cinema. From the satirically brilliant Dawn of the Dead and modern panorama of the apocalypse in 28 Days Later to the straight-to-not-even-good-enough-for-the-SyFy-channel vaults of homemade horror, documenting the undead is truly a toy for any filmmaker. It’s only fitting that George Romero’s black-and-white classic belongs to the world in the realm of public domain.


When it comes to shamblers, life truly is a box of chocolately brains; you really never know what you’re going to get. Hence, it was with some trepidation that I approached Umberto Lenzi’s Nightmare City, a 1980 entry into the Italian zombie canon. While I enjoy my share of 70s spaghetti guts with a large dollop of mozzarella, I rarely find them to actually scare me on any genuine level.


And thus, with some raised expectation and more than a little doubts, I sat down for some old school zombi action, courtesy of Mr. Lenzi's dubbed bloodfest. I was not disappointed.


Quick Plot: Journalist Dean Miller (Hugo Stiglitz, no visible resemblance to the Inglorious Basterd) arrives at a landing strip to interview a big shot scientist. Instead, an unidentified plane arrives and the military surrounds it with guns aimed. The doors open and a few grayish men stumble outside, followed by some messily rotted faced sprinters who quickly tear their way into the fleshy army, eating, stabbing, and shooting every human (save for the conveniently immune reporter) in their path.

What follows is a typical genre film, but with a mix of added bonuses that make it hold up with grisly glee thirty years after Nightmare City’s premiere. I don’t know that this is the first appearance of running zombies, but they make their mark like Olympians with high doses of national pride. Some massacres are committed with extra servings of cheese--like the televised aerobics attack, which features leotards, dubbed New Yawk accents, and, just because, several pairs of bare breasts. Other moments contain true suspense and enough horror to keep the audience holding their breaths.


That being said, Nightmare City is not without its flaws. Upon watching a 13 minute interview with Lenzi (the sole extra on my DVD), I realized that these “zombies”--much like the infected of 28 Days Later--are not actually supernaturally undead, but are meant to be products of a radiation leak. I may not have been paying close enough attention to get this bit the first time around, which, in hindsight, makes the very setup of the film much more interesting than the common zombie flick. There is some attempt to provide a government/military angle to the story, but it never really takes us anywhere. At the same time, there is a splattering of characters set throughout the city, few of whom earn enough of our sympathies to let us care about their fates. Then again, any film that provides a zombie priest wielding a mean altar candle gets my seal of approval.

High Points
The first attack is shocking, fast-paced, and actually scary


Kudos for utilizing a roller coaster in a unique and disturbing shot

Low Points
After hearing Lenzi’s explanation of his zombie look, the rotting roasted marshmallow look makes sense, but during the film, they just kind of seem crunchy


The whole “Oh thank God it’s you!” moment, followed by the ‘you’ being a fresh-faced zombie about the chomp his or her way through the daft human works fine the first time, but by the fifth or so repeat it gets a tad predictable


Lessons Learned
Contrary to what nearly any other film would like you to believe, climbing your way up a rope is not nearly as easy as it looks


Zombies are not fans of modern art


To avoid copying Romero-isms, use synonyms like “bullets can damage the cranium” in place of common phrases like “Shoot it man, shoot it in the head”

It is quite possible to shoot a man’s arm off and beat someone to death with a broom


Nurses are well-versed in evolutionary patterns and the consequences of entering the Age of the Robot, but also subscribe to many superstitions about vampires. And, most importantly, they’re quite talented when it comes to freshening up with the right lipstick in the middle of a citywide cannibalistic massacre


Nobody in Italy wears a bra


Rent/Bury/Buy
Although the extras are limited, Nightmare City will probably find its way into my personal DVD collection should I find it at the right price. This is not the most horrifying 70s zombie film of all time, nor is it laughably enjoyable. It’s a solid, scary, and unusual take on what quickly became a tired genre.

This Is a Dark Ride

As we pack away the bermuda shorts and citronella candles to welcome crispy autumn, there’s one summer institution that I’ll be slightly sad to watch hibernate: amusement parks. Sure, lucky Californians and other citizens get yearlong access to large scale outdoor playgrounds, but for those of us that must abide by Mother Nature’s mood swings, a mobile carnival that sets up in a supermarket parking lot is a temporary joy. 

Thankfully, like so many venues of our dimension, there are plenty of horror films that help to keep alive (and sometimes, undead) the memories of rickety ferris wheels, questionable carnies, and possessed bumper cars (that’s what Herbie: Fully Loadedwas about, yes?).

If you’ve seen the trailer for Zombieland (and let’s face it: if you’ve been anywhere near a movie theater or Internet connection, you’ve seen the trailer for Zombieland)then like me, you’re itching for the promising marriage of roller coasters  and cannibalism. For a brainy appetizer, check out Umberto Lenzi’s Nightmare City. While it doesn’t answer the question of whether zombies throw their arms in the air when descending down a big drop or if they take a good picture via those seizure-inducing photo flashes, this 1980 classic does does provide a nifty chase up my favorite staple of vintage theme parks, a wooden roller coaster (and by chase, I mean actual chase; these roasted marshmallow headed ghouls can run). A truly horrifying ending demonstrates what happens should the teenage ride operator not check your safety harness (20+ years before Final Destination 3 gave us grisly details. 

Roller coasters not your thing? There’s still plenty of rides that can instill insane levels of fear in under 2 minutes. Child’s Play 3 boasts one  of those unrealistically extravagant funhouses only seen in cinema. Motorized cars take you on a herky jerky spin through a maze of foamy gargoyles. The ride itself is hardly terrifying, but its physical setup--which includes 20 foot drops over mini-van sized fans--makes for the perfect grounds for soul possessing and doll hunting. Pity the poor maintenance man who has to patrol that death trap.

Appropriately enough, a more believable funhouse can be found in a film I’ve discussed here before, Tobe Hooper’s The Funhouse. This 1981 slasher is set in a weekend carnival overflowing with stale popcorn and ex-cons (the type of three day event my lax fire department sponsored every August). Best of all, its titular attraction is perfectly decrepit and looks like it’s already hosted the deaths of countless ticket holders, much less the naughty teens whose demise will follow.

Maybe you prefer stationary entertainment at your evening fair. Many a carnival goer enjoys some of the live shows offered, although unless your ticket says Disney or Dollywood, the odds are fairly high that you won’t be clamoring for autographs at the end of the show. Still, give Tod Browning some credit for amassing a real-life collection of sideshow workers in 1932’s Freaks. From giggly pinheads to limbless crawlers, this group doesn’t seem to rival Cirque de Soleil, but damnit if they don’t throw kickass parties. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that their boss gives them enough time off to occasionally deform anyone who disrespects one of their own. An alternative black-and-white after hours entertainment can be found in the German expressionist classic, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, where a somnobulist brings the house down by predicting the date of your death. Fun for the whole family!

For less authentic performers, visit Victor Salva’s Clownhouse, where a trio of mental patients escape the big house to kill and impersonate three bitter circus clowns. Sure, the whole chasing-three-teenagers-and-trying-to-kill-them thing is wrong, but what’s even worse is the actual clowns’ performance ettiquette. Dancing around like--well, clowns--they please the local kids fine enough, but why when it comes to choosing a volunteer, why does Cheezo the leader grab our young protagonist against his will? If a boy stares into your painted eyes with a look of true terror, shaking his head at your extended gloved hand, is it really wise to grab his clammy right and throw him in the center ring? You’re just asking for a kick in the nuts. The strangulation and identity theft? Not completely undeserved. 

Speaking of clowns, one can’t discuss theme parks without a wistful visit to Killer Klowns From Outer Space. A neon tent rivals Las Vegas’ Circus Circus and a drop down ball pit lands you in the Playboy Bunny mansion of rainbow headed jesterettes. Best of all is the prime selection of artery clogging food. I’ve seen my share of candy apples and fried oreos, but that’s nothing compared to the klowns’ selection of 4’ long blood-stuffed cotton candy, monster-making popcorn, and acidic cream pies that will melt even the surliest of night security guards.

Finally, to bid proper adieu to summer days and snow cones, stop by the hauntingly barren landscape of rigged games, flea ridden stuffed animals, and loose screwed rides in 28 Weeks Later. Sure, Carnival of Souls gets plenty of ghostly points for its artistic eeriness, but there’s something sad and understated about a carousel so clean of children’s laughter and motion sickness vomit. 

Have I missed any? Throw in your vote for best use of a tilt-a-whirl, haunted house, deep fryer, or any other treat found only inside those non-permanent gates of traveling fun.

My Lait Reavyoo Ov Ingaloorius Basstreds, a Philm Bye Kwenten Tarrenteenoe

Whenever someone discusses a Quentin Tarantino film, it seems necessary to first explain what your general take on the world’s most successful video store clerk is. Some hurl bolts of expletives at the sharp chinned auteur, labeling him a copycat just surfing his way to the top of Hollywood on waves of 70s Asian cinema influence. Others declare him to be the second coming of Orson Welles, a true genius with a handle of actors, camerawork, and dialogue unlike any filmmaker of the last fifty years.


I’ll take the middle road on the big QT question. I acknowledge that he did indeed influence--if not completely redirect--the status of film in the late 90s. I get a huge kick out of Kill Bill Volume 1 and an even deeper, more thoughtful enjoyment of Volume 2, but while there’s a lot in Pulp Fiction that makes me smile, there are also stretches of dialogue that feel far too indulgent for my tastes. Ultimately, I’ll always respect and usually enjoy a QT film, but I have my issues with him.


I wasn’t too sure how to approach his latest film, particularly since I’d heard such heaps of praise that would make Eli Roth blush blood red. So with an armful of heart attack happy popcorn, I made my way into the theater two weeks after the successful opening of Inglareouse Bastirdz.


Quick Plot: World War II is upon us, and who knew it was so much fun? Well, at least for one secretive band of American banshees, the titular Basterds who prowl through Europe with one goal and one goal only: kill Nahzees, whether by baseball bat, gun shot, or shame. Meanwhile, a smart young French Jew (Melanie Laurent as Shosanna/Emmanuelle) who survived a terrifying Nazi raid on her family plots a grand attack on the high command of the SS, who have made plans to attend the premiere of a German war film being held in her cinema. Their stories interact (indirectly) when Diane Kruger enters the picture as a double agent actress helping the Allies. Weaved through everyone’s tale is the incredible Christoph Waltz (best actor at Cannes), aka Hans “The Jew Hunter” Landa who earned his nickname with his unique brand of intelligence, charm, and pure soullessness.

Ingelawreos Bastrds is a blast. Not a perfect one by any means, but certainly QT’s most disciplined film that still manages to entertain in as-big-as-you-can get style. Some scenes--such as the hold-your-breath opening and Landa’s strudel sharing with Shosanna--offer incredibly tense moments of suspense, while others--including the Basterds attempts to speak Eye-talian--are funnier than most comedies released on screen in recent years. The storyline itself is quite well-presented, with a nice balance between the slower moments of Shosanna’s plotting with the insane hijinks of the Basterds bashing in a few skulls. It’s an excellent script with near perfect execution.


High Points
There’s not a bad performance in the bunch, which is quite a feat when nearly every main actor takes big risks with their work. Brad Pitt’s lieutenant amuses with every curl of his lip, Melanie Laurent’s understated take on vengeance adds much needed heart, and Christoph Waltz’s SS officer has terrifying charisma that would make Hannibal Lector choke on fava beans

I have a pet peeve with films that take place in other countries, are recorded for English speaking audiences, yet insist on using regional accents. It makes no sense. Inglorious Basterds, with its quatralingual dialogue, gets it right by simply letting its characters speak the language they would be speaking, thereby respecting the audience enough to give us the right presentation


I listened to one review that claimed Engloereaouse Baztirds had a misogynist undertone in how it ultimately treated its females. I would completely disagree; while neither Bridget or Shoshana have fairy tale endings, they both are portrayed as strong, determined, and intelligent women whose fates are not unrealistic to the choices they make. It's actually quite refreshing

Maybe you've noticed, but the brutal abuse of titular spelling has allowed me great joy at finding new ways to write the words "Imbloreous Bazztrds"


Low Points
Samuel L. Jackson’s narration gave the audience a nice little wink, but considering its obvious placement, it felt a little too much like QT trying to insert his signature right smack in the middle of the film


I know that Tarantino’s soundtracks tend to receive loads of sales and snobbish music experts’ haughty approval, but too many of his choices--opening on Beethoven’s most commercially used sonata, for example--felt too recognizable and pulled me out of the story


Lessons Learned
Old film reels are highly flammable


When eating strudel, wait for the cream

French people respect directors


Germans signal the number 3 in a different manner than Brits and Americans


If male and drinking in a European tavern, always assume there is a gun pointed at your testicles

See/Skip/Sneak In
You owe it to yourself to see this film, as it’s most likely to remain the most discussed theatrical release of the summer. Plus, you know...it’s fun. And genuinely a great movie. Yes, it’s a tad long and sure, it takes more liberties with history than Philip Roth or Hard Rock Zombies could ever dream, but you will leave the theater with a hearty dose of impressive filmmaking, fascinating acting, and an extremely involving story more than deserving of your $12.

Someone Left the Satanists In the Devil's Rain

Having just started reading Brian Keene’s The Conqueror Worms, I enthusiastically queued up this month’s Final Girl Film Club pick, The Devil’s Rain, fresh in the mood for some truly terrifying precipitation.


Okay, who am I kidding? With Ernest Borgnine headlining the movie poster wearing a satanic priest’s robe and ram horns, plus the promise of a doughily shirtless, sideburn styling, prominent belt buckle wearing William Shatner, I knew exactly what I was in for. This 1974 Robert Fuest helmed horror emits a powerfully pungent odor of deliciously aged cheese from the opening credits to the gooey end. Know your limit for lactose tolerance before indulgence.


Quick Plot (if that’s what you can call it): A promisingly haunting credit sequence features creepy medievalish hell paintings, guttural moans, a set of disembodied ears holding a butcher knife, and one of the oddest listings I’ve ever seen: Technical Advisor: Anton Szandor Lavey, High Priest of the Church of Satan. I don’t know what technicalities Lavey advised on, but you Satanists should not be proud. No offense to Satanists; it’s just a really bad film.

Next, we jump into a dark and stormy night where Shatner awaits the return of his soon-to-be-melted father bearing a message to return the book to Corbus. If that makes no sense to you who haven’t seen the film, it makes about 3% more to me, and I watched the whole thing. Then again, I also missed John Travolta’s two second film debut as a waxy faced Satanist, so maybe I’m just not nearly as intelligent as Fuest’s intended audience.

Shat adjusts his cowboy hat and bravely heads into a ghost town in search of his vanished mother and to battle John Corbus (Ernest Borgnine...we’ll get to him) for the return of her soul (I think). Corbus has his sights set on a missing book once stolen by Shat’s ancestors. They have a showdown inside the “New England”-ish church (which, according to one character, does not belong in a western desert), which is actually a Satanic holy place (you can tell by the stained glass artwork straight off a metal band’s drumset). By showdown, I mean Shatner prays and shoots a few worshippers while Borgnine speaks Latin and smiles smugly.


Enter Tom Skerrit as Shat’s brother, a young doctor with a fabulous mustache and a conveniently semi-psychic wife who helps explain the history of our characters with a dreadfully lit flashback. Believe me, you haven’t seen American history until you etch into memory the image of Borgnine in full Pilgrim getup, shooting out lines like “Didst one of thee fall from the favor of Lucifer?” to what I imagine to be a group of escaped community theater actors in a dress rehearsal for The Crucible. It’s more wonderful than it sounds.


After being separated from his wife, Skerrit enlists the aid of his superhelpful mentor, Dr. Sam Richards, a parapsychologist who actually took ten minutes to read the sought after book and therefore has some semblance of what might be going on. Together they discover the world’s coolest faberge egg, complete with a television screen that displays all the lost souls trapped in hell. It also contains the titular devil’s rain, a force so powerful, it can melt any eyeless minion into a gooey pile, not unlike the result you get if you’ve ever tried to light one of those Spencer Gift Store’s novelty candles of glittery waxen wizards.

If it seems like I’m hopping through plot points like Leprechaun on a pogo stick, I do apologize, but The Devil’s Rain is simply not an easy film to summarize. It’s also not the easiest film to watch, as its grainy, dull lit action actually aggravates the eyes at times. There’s nothing frightening, clever, or particularly interesting about this satanic romp, but that’s certainly not to say The Devil’s Rain isn’t amusing.


High Points
Borgnine is kind of amazing as Corbus, and by that I mean he’s hammier than an out-of-work Miss Piggy at a French buffet


The melting effects are fairly impressive when watched on a small screen. This is vital as they take up a way too extended sequence that seems to run longer than the entire film

Low Points
Odd that the scant 86 minute run time contains such prolonged scenes as the Satanists’ desert march (which clocks in at 3 minutes) when a few quick bites of exposition could certainly have padded out the length while, you know, explaining stuff


While I didn’t exactly hunger for more Shatner (I may be a woman, but I am fairly immune to his muggy charm), the switch of protagonists at the halfway mark was a little jarring. It wasn’t that Tom Skerrit was awful or even that Shat was any good; as an audience, however, we have little to hold onto when we don’t know a thing about who we’re supposed to be rooting for

Lessons Learned
When he visits earth, Satan generally resembles any animal character played by a human on Shelly Duvall's Faery Tale Theatre

When you hear your mother screaming, it’s best to stare worriedly at the source of the sound before slowly jogging to see what the trouble is


Satanists bleed sour milk and have elegant penmanship


If when driving, an eyeless zombie creature pops up in your backseat, avoid removing both hands from the wheel to grab your hair as you scream. Sure, you may be frightened at the uninvited hitchhiker about to kill you, but that’s how accidents are caused


Winning Line
“Remember: no one knows what we’re about,” Corbus growls to his colonist clan, only to then open the door to an angry mob carrying torches and Salemnesque judgement

Rent/Bury/Buy
The Devil’s Rain is a pretty horrid film, but if conventionally horrid sounds like heaven to you, then by all means, rent it and crack open a bottle of some bitter water (because it’s so sweet). There seems to be two DVDs on the market, and unfortunately Netflix sends out the bare bones 2000 release, with mere a trailer, stills gallery, and a nice screen shot of John Travolta’s big closeup, complete with the signature chin cleft. If John Waters can record a commentary for Mommie Dearest, then surely someone with a touch of wit could put a nice audio spin on The Devil’s Rain. If nothing else, hire a grammar expert to pick apart everything from the tagling--Heaven Help Us All When The Devil’s Rain!--to Satan describing himself as “the highest, most exalted king” because a) is he not the only king? b) not the first king? and c) is there another king that was merely exalted?

Don’t forget to head over to Final Girl’s site for a roundup of other horror bloggists reviewing Borgnine’s satanic adventures. This is certainly a pick ripe for riffing, so be sure to read everyone’s reviews, then balance out your dairy intake with a hearty round exercise.


Or just by watching a better movie. Your choice.

Franchise Fun

With the recent success of The Final Destination and the subsequent announcement that Halloween 3 (or 11, but who’s counting?) will be made, it seems the era of the horror franchise is being resurrected like, well, a Romero buried zombie digging his way out of a wormy grave. While the Jigsaw readies his costume for this year’s trick-or-treating and the behemoths of the 80s sharpen and shine their knives for glossy reboots, I figured it was time to take a quick glance at the current horror series returning to theaters.

Saw

Status: Monopolizing Halloween for the past 5 years, this infamously R-rated series will make its sixth outing next month

Killer Key Features: twist ending, gravely voiced villain, bicycle riding puppet, elaborate traps for morally flawed character actors, MTV quick editing

Fresh Faced Pre-Fame Victims: The cast tends to be composed more of dimming stars from the 90s than ingenues, but do credit the original for a heavily featured pre-Benjamin Linus, Michael Emerson

High Points: Whether it suits your taste buds or not, few could deny the impressive execution of the first film’s big reveal; Part IV breathed a little new life into the series by featuring the first likable hero

Low Points: The weakest work of Cary Elwes’ career; an increasingly mean spirited attitude most prominent in Part III; the convoluted plotting of Part V to essentially do little more than set up the next installment

Jaws Jump: When a VH1 reality show plays casting agent, the signs aren’t good

Influence: Credit does go to Saw for making studios allow their horror films to maintain hard R ratings, but providing an opportunity to smart fare like Hostel has also sullied horror’s reputation with messy drudge like Captivity. Whether you get off on torture porn, roll your eyes at Jigsaw’s exploits, or believe (as I do) that Saw is a decent, if underwhelming, collection of quick thrills, it certainly has made a lasting impression on modern theatrical releases.

Final Destination

Status: Producers have claimed that the recently released The Final Destination is indeed grammatically honest, but its huge opening weekend could certainly cause Death to overlook a few more accidents, only to then do some makeup work with wacky yet non-supernatural methods that would make Rube Goldberg seethe with envy 

Killer Key Features: massively violent opening scenes, luckily educational Googling, the number 180, sharp objects impaling their way through eye sockets, gentle breezes, 

Fresh Faced Pre-Fame Victims: Sean William Scott, pre-Heroes Ali Larter

High Points: Part 2’s opening pile-up remains one of the most terrifying car accidents in cinema history; The tanning bed dual homicide cleverly gave Part 3 a macabrely funny kick; Part 4’s NASCAR collapse captured the terrifying possibilities of lax building codes and frantic mobs

Low Points: A few two many explosions in the otherwise favorite Part 2, the general lack of depth to leads in any of the films

Jaws Jump: A 3D gimmick is certainly one way to deliver the same formula while still putting popcorn stained bottoms into the seats

Influence: On the surface, 1999’s Final Destination seemed like any other outing with pretty people in peril but due to high production values, a great concept, and an excellent sense of self awareness, each entry has packed enough humor and scares to leave audiences--especially the dedicated horror crowd--thirsty for more. While not a huge cash cow in the Saw league, the series has been profitable enough and yet thankfully, the creators have been responsible to not rush into each production. I only wish more franchises would take a few lessons from Death’s messy mistakes.

Halloween

Status: Despite a disappointing opening weekend, a third/eleventh film (depending on your numbering system) is slated for a summer 2010 release, this time sans two-time director Rob Zombie 

Killer Key Features: October 31st, slutty babysitters, very large kitchen knives, trenchcoats, scores featuring heavy use of minor keys

Fresh Faced Pre-Fame Victims: Jamie Lee Curtis making her mark as the nerdiest scream queen; Paul Rudd fighting a satanic cult in the best-forgotten Part VI

High Points: Carpenter’s masterful camerawork and even more impressive original score; Part III’s attempt to reinvent the franchise bombed but has since developed its own following; Rob Zombie’s first half of his reboot nearly succeeds at innovating a tired genre

Low Points: Much like the fifth F13, Halloween V cheats the dark ending of Part 4 and follows it up with nothing worth watching; Tyra Banks’ offscreen death and Bustah Rhymes mean kung fu moves in the Big Brother-meets-the-Internet dreck in Resurrection; Zombie’s messy followup not knowing what kind of film it wants to be

Jaws Jump: The Halloween series is one of the most uneven of any major franchise and is best separated in pairs of two, where every other entry tries to find a new hook. Chapter 11 will finally resort to what feels like a last resort: 3D

Influence: The 1978 Halloween is, in many ways, the birthplace of the modern slasher, expanding on Hitchcock’s Psycho with a careful borrowing of 1974’s Black Christmas. Norman Bates may be the grandfather of 20th century villains, but consider Michael Meyers as the oldest child that had to go out and pave the way for others to follow. 

Nightmare On Elm Street

Status: The upcoming remake will mark Freddy’s 9th outing to Elm Street, but for the first time, a new hand (Watchmen’s Jackie Earle Haley) will don the rusty glove for an April release.

Killer Key Features: Christmas sweaters, boiler rooms, nightmares, use of the word ‘bitch’, surprisingly abundant availability of “stay awake” pills in typical households

Fresh Faced Pre-Fame Victims: Patricia Arquette, Laurence “Larry” Fishbourne, Breckin Meyer, Jack Sparrow

High Points: Tina’s savagely violent wall death in the original; the surreal imagery of Dream Warriors; Part 2‘s underrated gay analogy, undeservedly panned by just about everyone; the Kafkaesque kill of Part 4; death by hearing aide in Part 6

Low Points: Freddy’s open mike night comedy routines in Parts 4-7; lazy character development; the smart idea but boring execution of Wes Craven’s New Nightmare

Jaws Jump: The entrance of a child actor to any film can be detrimental. When said actor is put in a potato sack and cast as the unborn spawn of a heroine and/or demonic dream monster, the results are enough to make Part 5 the real beginning of the end

Influence: Did YOU have a Freddy notebook for math class in the first grade? Quite possibly, because while Michael gets the respect and Jason has the numbers, it was Freddy, with his janitor-meets-Sinatra style, that made merchandising a horror film a new market in itself

Friday the 13th

Status: The only franchise here to come one film behind The Land Before Time, a sequel to the ahem, reboot (if merely calling what’s simply another sequel a ‘remake’ means reboot, that is) is already in development

Killer Key Features: machetes, boobs, hockey masks, uptight surviving females, woods

Fresh Faced Pre-Fame Victims: Kevin Bacon, Crispin “So You Think You Can Dance” Glover, Corey Feldman, Kelly Hu

High Points: The twist of Part 1; the burlap sackhead of Part 2; some kickass and completely ridiculous kills in Jason X

Low Points: Aside from Parts 1-12, minus 11? Part V had a particularly sleazy haze, while my personal favorite (as a guilty pleasure), Jason Takes Manhattan, is laughably horrendous (yet wonderfully worth a watch for reasons I can’t explain in just a few lines)

Jaws Jump: By Part VII, Jason required a gimmick so telekinesis, tourism, soul-jumping, outer space, and the world’s best almost buddy comedy followed

Influence: Like Freddy, pop culture hasn’t quite been the same since Jason sliced  through his first non-virgin. The massive juggernaut that was (and still is) Friday the 13th can’t be dismissed. Browse through any 1980s catalogue of horror movies and note how many feature final girls, masked villains, and tepid sex. Jason wasn’t necessarily an innovator, but his persistence--both in the story and as a franchise--continues to fester its way into modern culture. 

...of the Dead

Status: After the ho-hum box office and fan-fueled distaste for George Romero’s Diary of the Dead, America’s favorite ponytailed director announced he would continue his series with a sixth film, Survival (not surprisingly) of the Dead.

Killer Key Features: shambling corpses, wooden acting, satirical undertones that become progressively more obvious

Fresh Faced Pre-Fame Victims: Tom Savini, genre favorite Ken Foree

High Points: the super savvy observations of 70s consumer culture in one of the greatest horror movies of all time; everything about Night; Day‘s opening shuffle

Low Points: performances that shoot dialogue out like BB pellets in Day; Land’s incongruous crispness; Diary’s stiffness

Jaws Jump: Although Bub is a lovable lug of a corpse, the humanization of the undead was continued a little too obviously in Land, which in turn made the return to newness of Diary feel that much more stale

Influence: Eh, nothing special. Just responsible for inspiring a few hundred zombie films, musicals, books, video games, comic books, Facebook applications, rock musician monikers, and...you get the point

Scream

Status: Ten years after the mild success of Scream 3, announcements have been made detailing the development of a fourth entry. Writer Kevin Williamson is working on the script, while a cast is mysteriously being collected. As of now, Courteny Cox, David Arquette, and Jamie Kennedy (because what else has he got to do?) are scheduled to return, with Neve Campbell’s presence still in the air.

Killer Key Features: trendy haircuts, teenagers with SAT acing vocabulary, stabbings, impressive cameos, squinting

Fresh Faced Pre-Fame Victims: While most of the leads were already semi-famous for television work, the series did help to give early breaks to Liev Schreiber, Portia De Rossi, and Emily Mortimer

High Points: The original’s opening was a tribute to 80s horror fans who knew the answer to Ghostface’s trivia; Rose McGowan’s garage-squished death was refreshingly visual for a studio film; Part 2’s script, with its witty cinema references and sequel-savvy wit

Low Points: Part 3’s overly Hollywoodizing felt pretentious, while most of the humor landed flat; the sparing of Dewey not once but thrice was clearly a cowardly plot move inspired by saddened test screening audiences

Jaws Jump: The attempts to tease us with a supernatural spin in Part 3, along with the convoluted, impossible to get ending, showed that the series was clearly in need of some new style

Influence: With theatrical horror undergoing a quiet hibernation in the mid 1990s, Scream successfully revived the slasher genre by welcoming new audiences while saluting loyal fans. Sadly few followups left much of a lasting impression on old or new audiences (although Final Destination and The Faculty maintain some well-deserved love). Young actors previously employed with the WB network (and currently for the CW) should certainly make daily blood sacrifices to Kevin Williamson for providing reliable employment opportunities for years to come. 

Personally, I prefer more unique stand alone films, but tradition is tradition and we all know we’ll fork over our cash for a few (or most) of these upcoming installments. Share which ones you’re excited for and which need to go the way of the Wolfman--oh wait. Scratch that. Just leave some comments.

Pretty In Blood

For better and worse, Wes Craven’s Scream was a landmark film for horror cinema. The 1996 sleeper renewed a mainstream interest in slashers, a tepid love affair that had basically laid dormant (in spirit) since Freddy pondered fatherhood and Jason tasted New York bagels. Well-versed genre fans chuckled at Kevin Williamson’s cracking self-aware dialogue and classic references while a new generation of Noxema-using young people hit the mall in search of similar fare. (As for me? As my 14 year old friends got lost in Skeet Ulrich’s big browns and snidely mocked Neve Campbell’s Kmart wardrobe, I ceased upon the opportunity to show “scary” movies at previously dull slumber parties; sadly my fellow eighth graders did not appreciate Mothers Day as quite the tongue-in-cheek comedy it was).


Most importantly, the echo of Scream inspired--well, that may be too artistic a word considering the result--studios to throw mid-ranged budgets at a slew of slashers starring fresh-faced WB stars (aw, a moment of silence please). Some, like the convoluted but not irredeemable I Know What You Did Last Summer, achieved decent success and birthed unfortunate Brandy-based and excessively wordy sequels, while others--like the dreadful Disturbing Behavior, starring a pre-Mrs. Cruise as a Goth girl--had shorter lifespans than a Tomogatchi pet in an emergency room full of Beanie Babies. Or something.


If I learned one thing this week, it’s that Scream’s effect was airborne and made its way across continents to the Land Down Under. Cut, a 2000 slasher with meta film intentions, is clearly surfing on the Ghostface-d wave. It utilizes a rubber-faced killer, cinema savvy victims, and lazy but affectionate film references ranging from to Shock Corridor to Jules and Jim.


Quick Plot:
Cammy from Street Fighter (aka pixie pop sensation Kylie Minogue) is a low level director trying to finish a mediocre horror film--a daunting cast when your lead is a divaliscious Molly Ringwald and your villain has the IQ of a pea. After insulting her male lead, Minogue meets her poorly edited end, leaving Ringwald to stave off the killer and rise to the minor stardom allowed to second string soap opera actresses.

Fast forward thirteen years to the Australian version of Scream 2’s film class. Budding director Raffi Carruthers and ambitious producing major Hester Ryan decide that the best way to ace their senior project while stepping into the public eye is to complete the infamously cursed slasher film, much to the brooding consternation of their mentor who has his own connection to Hot Blooded (the unfinished movie, sadly not the Foreigner song). They amass a blandly attractive crew, fly over former star Vanessa Turnbill (Princess Ringwald) in coach class, and roll the old reels to the original location of the ill-fated shoot. Will a superstrong but silent unidentified masked man pick off the snarky Aussies one by one, replacing prop garden shears with sharp weapons of decapitation? If you have to ask, you’re reading the wrong blog.

You won’t find humor up to Scream par, nor are the scares worthy of other on-set horror like John Carpenter’s Cigarette Burns. Cut, however, is not a total waste of time, particularly if you happened to have been raised on 80s slashers. I was reminded of films like Popcorn, which also had a dedicated spirit devoted to its own genre. The effects are passable enough, though the story could have used some sort of invigoration. One of the biggest barriers while watching a film like this is the responsibility you constantly feel to identify the killer before the plot does it for you. This isn’t necessarily Cut’s fault because (HELPFUL SPOILER) the villain is not among the introduced cast. Unfortunately, we don’t discover this until too late, so much of our own viewing time is wasted with unnecessary theorizing. Then again, that process may be what keeps films like this from boring us to our own bloody deaths.


High Points
Watching Ringwald channel her inner bitch truly is a joy

The decision to make the creative artists of the film female is a nice and refreshing touch, especially since it’s not overly pushed as being revolutionary


Low Points
While all the young actors are likable enough, none leave any sort of lingering impression or cause us to actually care about their fates


A minor character revelation is supposed to do something for the action, but once revealed, it’s never revisited and feels like a late attempt to give unneeded substance to a lite film


Lessons Learned
It’s hard to scream without a tongue


Stunt drivers are always expected, even when the only required driving is out of a driveway


Throwing garden shears is surprisingly easy


Today, hearing dialup onscreen is as quaint as watching the Amish churn butter


Rent/Bury/Buy
About a month ago, my brother texted me that he was in a discount store that had a bin of DVDs on sale for $2.50. I hadn’t heard of Cut, but a quick sneak on IMDB during work hours, along with the very presence of Ringwald at a rather unpredictable point in her career, was enough for me to approve the sale.


At that price, it’s hard to go wrong with any movie, much less a decent, occasionally clever slasher with an earnestly positive attitude about it. This is ultimately one of those unoffensive, but uneventful films that doesn’t really deserve your searching energy, but won’t hurt you when viewed in the background of a spring cleaning or miniature toy village assembly (I dunno, what DO you people do with your spare time?). Fans of 80s slashers will get a soft-toed kick out of its retro style and Rinwald devotees should revel in her diva performance. The effects are above par and the gore, though not extraordinary, doesn’t play chicken. For those horror lovers okay with the occasional imitation brand servings, give it a low expectation intentioned try. For the others, delve into the 80s and find something else.