How Lo Can You Go

Good-hearted films are a sweet treat. When you watch such a cornucopia of nihilism, exploitation, cash-cow quickies and uninspired sequels, it's easy to grow jaded on genre cinema. Thankfully, there are always hidden gems that dare to be different or, dare we say it, simply nice. Today's feature, Travis Betz's 2009 Lo, is such an example.

Quick Plot:

Awkward young man Justin (Ward Roberts) pulls the shades down in his apartment in order to best summon Lo, a crippled demon with a mean sense of humor. Why invite a squirmy evil thing that looks like the cross between BatBoy and Voldemort into your home? Mostly to see if the fuzzy beast can find April, Justin’s lady love who was recently dragged into hell, leaving only a Necronomicon-ish book behind dog-eared to Lo’s instruction page.

But who was this quirky redhead and what about her deserved eternal torment? Over the course of the brisk 80 minute running time, Justin slowly learns a few secrets as he crouches inside his protective circle with Lo, its musically inclined Nazi coworker, and a pair of tortured souls with their own tragedy to tell.

Lo is the definition of an independent genre film: cheaply made, bursting with heart, and occasionally, too quirky for its own good. Written and directed by rogue autuer Travis Betz, Lo toys with a light-hearted Evil Dead 2ish attitude mixed with the pathos and wit of Joss Whedon’s Buffy, The results aren’t always perfect--some of Robers’ Bruce Campbell-esque ‘talk to the hand’ fell flat for me--but the overall effect makes for something far more interesting and worthwile than your average straight-to-DVD horror film.

High Points

As the titular demon, Jeremiah Berkitt knows how to deliver a snappy one-liner while still coming off as genuinely evil

The twist (unspoiled) succeeds quite well: not only does it surprise the audience, it also takes the film to a much sadder place that feels so fitting to its mythological tone


A shadow-cast cameo from a hell-sentenced couple was my personal favorite scene, funny in dialogue but also disgusting and vital to showing just how scary a place hell is

Low Points

The first overly theatrical meet-cute flashback comes off as rather forced, trying way too hard to be clever and unique but possibly alienating some viewers in the process

Lessons Learned

When drawing a safety circle for demon summoning, be sure to give yourself enough leg room. And possibly, a chamber pot

Nazi demons have a soft spot for a sexy saxophone

Band-Aids were made for a reason

Rent/Bury/Buy

Though far from perfect, Lo is an innovative little Instant Watch more than deserving of 80 minutes of your life. Those with Anya-sized holes in their hearts following the end of Buffy (I know; that hole wouldn’t be very big since actress Emma Caulfield is just slightly wider than a pixie stick but still) will find a kindred spirit in Travis Betz. In that case, yes, it’s a tad cute and self-aware for its own good, but you’ll know within the first ten minutes or so if Lo is your cup of juice. Drink up.

Quick Thoughts: Paranormal Activity

So unless you’re one of the six people left with $12 in your pocket and 90 minutes of your life to spare, you’ve probably seen Paranormal Activity and finally, one month and one false start (as the 1:50 Sunday afternoon showing decided to not actually ‘show’ the film and simply play audio for the first five minutes), I have now whittled the number down to five. Since everyone and their hamster has reviewed the film with fairly universal critique--and mine don’t really differ too much from the masses--I’ll condense my thoughts to the following:

The highest point of my film viewing, I must say, was that I sat in a fairly crowded theater full of diverse ticket buyers and not one of them laughed at the talking baby eTrades commercial. In no way does this say anything about Paranormal Activity--I could have won $9 million dollars plus a lifetime supply of pumpkin ice cream served year round and I still would have been more impressed by the slow improvement on taste and humor in general audiences today.

I hate talking babies. Just cause their lips move as an adult makes inappropriate jokes does not mean they are funny.

Anyway, the movie.

I liked it. Felt edgy here and there, but not in the hyperventilating style of the either easily-frightened or chronically asthmatic teens a few rows behind me. Still, I found it effective enough and can honestly admit that the next day, I was a tad uncomfortable when my cat proceeded to sprint across my apartment trying to catch a ball of air, which I naturally have decided is my own personal demon named Simon that doesn’t like it when I watch basic cable. 

Some quick takes in SPOILER territory: I agree with the 2-Second-2-Long discussion cruising through the Interwebs. I jumped at the ‘first’ ending, was slightly haunted by the next shot, but found the final crawl a tad too long and unnecessary, especially in light of the suddenness of the creditless black screen.

Performances were fine. I believed the pair as a couple, although where a student and day trader got enough money to buy that house and spend the entire day inside it or basking in a Beverly Hills inground pool is beyond me. 

Stuff that worked? The tiny touches that built up possibility without ever shoving your face in eeriness. The broken picture. The found photo. The weirdness of those footprints. The image of someone standing for two hours. I even appreciated the subtle performance of the psychic and everything that his second visit implied. 

Basically, Paranormal Activity is a decent and effective little film that you can’t not root for in the face of its budget and scrappy climb to the top of the box office. Not the scariest film of the decade by any means, but certainly worth your time in a dark place with full attention. I’ll leave my thoughts there for now, save for a few lessons I simply can’t not impart.

Lessons Learned

Demons may haunt you for your whole life, but they won’t get violent until you move in with a really obnoxious yuppie

If you can afford a brand new convertible and a huge house in San Diego, you can afford to call a demonologist

Ouija boards have gotten much cooler looking in recent years

Saying “I have a plan” over and over again does not actually mean you have one

Tomorrow, my Pop Syndicate column will attempt to detail the hype around this and similar films and more importantly, some new methods for how to navigate unanimous praise or buildup and simply enjoy the film. Until then, here's a picture to remind us how frightening Carrot Top has become, and why no demon named Simon or Beelzebub or Sarah Palin can compare:

Death of a Cheerleader

 
It’s a rare Oscar winner that would follow and Academy awarded screenplay with a blood-soaked horror movie set in high school, but the prom queen of 2008’s Sundance did just that with Jennifer’s Body. Written by Juno scribe Diablo Cody and directed by Girlfight’s Karyn Kasuma, this bouncy pseudo horror has a refreshingly high dose of estrogen behind its production. 


That doesn't make it a particularly good (certainly not well directed) film, but despite the late-nite cable title, retro 80s poster art dying to make messy backseat love to a VHS (above, and I actually really dig it), and the abundance of near-nude Megan Fox skin, it's important to note that Jennifer's Body does try a few new things in marrying snappy high school humor with  a throwback horror style. 

Quick Plot: Despite their differences, mousey Needy (Amanda Seyfried) and hot cadet squad captain Jennifer (Megan Fox) remain lifelong BFFs, as proven by their matching heart necklaces. While Needy would prefer a quiet night in with her pet ferret or sweet boyfriend (you know he’s a catch because he went to Super Target to buy the spiral textured condoms so “it feels good for girls”), she agrees to accompany Jennifer to the local bar to see the hot new band from “the city” (which, from Long Island to the Alaska, is like, so the way suburban kids describe the nearest metropolis). Jennifer flirts her way into the sights of the lead singer (a hilarious Adam Brody) who in turn consults his drummer about the possible sexual history/non-history of the underage goupie-to-be. Offended, Needy dishonestly defends her friend’s honor before a fatal fire destroys the bar and makes extra crispy meat of most of its inhabitants. A shocked Jennifer ends up in the back of the band’s van, only to later show up in Needy’s kitchen with an appetite for Boston Market and an erupting blackened bloody wound in her chest. 

The next day, students and faculty mourn the town’s tragedy while Jennifer acts like a bitchy hot girl who craves the flesh of teenaged boys. And since she is cadet squad captain, she totally gets it. (Side note: once online for a roller coaster at Great Adventure, I overheard this pearly gem from a young blonde on a school trip: "I'm a cheerleader. That means I can do whatever the hell I want." Jennifer's Body comes extremely close to using this exact line).

Like a lot of current horror, Jennifer’s Body seemed to take some fan backlash when its very concept was announced. Diablo Cody’s style is pretty polarizing, and early trailers made the film look like 90 minutes of Fox teasing audiences with near nudity and sapphic innuendo. While the film is no masterpiece or milestone in the horror genre, it is an energetically enjoyable flick ripe for a Sunday afternoon viewing, sort of like a younger Drag Me To Hell with a little more Whedonesque puns tossed in. Amanda Seyfried proves that whether she’s slaying demons or singing to ABBA, she’s an incredibly likable and interesting onscreen presence (even if her “geek” look of flat hair and thick glasses is less believable than Rachael Lee Cook’s makeover in She’s All That). Megan Fox finds the right beats to prove herself more than capable of having fun with the kind of role she was born to play. Cody’s script is far less stylized than the every-line’s-a-pop-culture-quip of Juno, although a few dialogue duds land here and there. Still, the script is generally good fun without being forced.

But is it a good horror movie? Well, not in the scary sense, but that doesn’t mean Jennifer’s Body doesn’t fit its genre. This doesn’t come near the brilliance of something like Scream (which combined self-aware teenagedom with actual suspense in a way that’s hard to rival) but there’s a lot to enjoy, from the complex yet believable relationship between two mismatched best friends to the gleefully macabre humor around the world’s most satanically ambitious indie band since Black Roses. As far as actual fear factor goes, Jennifer’s Body is far more concerned with keeping its audience chuckling than inspiring nightmares, but those chuckles are sometimes quite nasty (and I mean that in the nicest way). It won't give you nightmares, but it will make you smile.

High Points

Neither gets much to do, but it’s still a treat to see Amy Sedaris and J.K. Simmons turning in shining little performances, plus an extra special cameo by one very genre friendly actor in the final scene

The actual sacrifice scene is filled with maniacally black humor 

Both Jennifer and Needy’s choice in promwear is gloriously horrendous. Whether this was an homage to the film’s 80s spirit or a comment on the misguided fashion sense of small town middle America, I like it

Low Points

Despite all the the cheer for the R-Rating, there’s nothing overwhelming or envelope pushing regarding the sex or violence

For all its buildup to the two climaxes, the finale(s) feel underwhelming and rushed. While we can laugh along with Jennifer and are certainly pulling for Seyfried's Needy, director Kasuma does not seem to have any control in building actual cinematic suspense

Lessons Learned

Small towns have bars; cool cities have clubs

Never chide a violent prison inmate for her dietary choices

Murderers of cheerleaders get a lot of fan mail


High school sex smells like Thai food

Bands that aspire to be Maroon 5 are never up to any good

See/Skip/Sneak In

I had a great time watching this movie, and only part of that came from the two 22 ounce glasses of pumpkin beer consumed one hour before showtime. That being said, there is definitely a segment of theatrical audiences--possibly a lot that are male--that will naturally have an aversion to mixing Mean Girls with demonic possession in a manner that tries a little too hard to wear its own cred in a too obvious (and acknowledged) placement of an Evil Dead t-shirt. This isn't the film anyone has been sacrificing puppies to see on the big screen, but it's a fun enough way to spend 90 minutes and a few months from now when it hits DVD, I can actually see some of the laughs landing more effectively. The fact that it seemed to bomb with theatrical audiences is something of a bummer; this isn't a new classic, but it's certainly more deserving of attention than something as trite and uninspired as Friday the 13th Part 12. 


Sigh. It always comes back to that for me, doesn't it.

Yes, Virginia, There Is a Film About a Killer Bed

Where does one even start when reviewing a film about a killer bed called, innovatively enough, Death Bed: The Bed That Eats? Is this the utmost proof that if something exists, a horror film can be made of it? That anything you touch can indeed try to kill you? Could it have inspired M. Knight Shayamalon to villainize the wind in the recent bucket of festering feces The Happening or have made Stephen King say, “you know what nobody’s done? Wrote a story about a killer laundromat, that’s what!”


I. Don’t. Know.


A good deal of the not-so-high number of people that have seen Death Bed learned about it from comedian Patton Oswalt’s rant. Here, Oswalt discusses how the mere existence of such a film means that anything is possible when it comes to film. Why is he having trouble finishing a screenplay if someone not only dreamt, but wrote, directed, edited, and ultimately distributed a movie about a homicidal piece of furniture? His point is valid (and actually inspirational), even if he does in fact misremember the title as Death Bed: The Bed That Eats People...largely inaccurate since we will soon learn that the Death Bed has the non-picky palate comparable only to Homer Simpson.

Quick Plot: The ghost of a painter is trapped behind one of his paintings, but he seems okay enough with this as he tells us the story of the Death Bed, his own murderer that sleeps, snores, and, of course, eats a few feet away from him in an abandoned stone house in the middle of the woods. Occasionally, a horny couple armed with that aphrodisiac bottle of wine and bucket of fried chicken may stop by, allowing Beddy Bye-Bye to pull their bodies inside its yellow bile interior and dissolve their flesh. Sometimes this act of breakfast is followed with a hearty dose of Pepto Bismol.

Eventually, our main characters??? pull up to house sit and are pleased to find that the large king-sized bed will fit three. I won’t go into too much detail on character, since the three women have no discernible ones to be found. There’s the driver, Diane, who seems sassy by Lampchop standards. Her friend, Sharon, whose crimped butt-length hair makes Locks of Love salivate and Suzan, Diane’s insecure co-worker who frets about existing and thankfully dies first.

Yes, they die, with little variation in style (Beddy is a bit of a one trick pony). In case you haven’t guessed it yet, this is a pretty damn bad film. What’s more interesting, or not, is just how oddly bad a bad movie Death Bed is. For one thing, none of the characters--or maybe actors--seem capable of actually speaking to one another. Nearly 98% of the film is done in voiceover, with one woman musing about how annoying she finds the other, the artist narrating with puffy snobbery, or Sharon (who is apparently a runaway, which sadly is far less interesting than it sounds)’s brother trying to figure out what may be going on. The 80 minute runtime feels far longer than seems possible, and it all ends with the discovery that in order to kill a death bed, one must revive the non-rotting corpse of a fair maiden that resembles your sister and have sex with it. Or something.


High Points
The montage of Beddy’s past victims, though not particularly well done, is not without humor. Bonus points for the old woman’s magazine choice (“Oral Lesbians”) and the fugitives poker game, featuring what may be the first time a film character shoots bath suds after getting dealt the world’s best grammatically questionable hand: Haha. You. Are. Dead. No Joker!


Whether it was meant for scares or laughs, what happens to the male character’s hands when he reaches inside the bed’s biley insides is pretty much fantastic

Low Points
I wouldn’t expect great audio quality, but the lack of subtitles makes it sometimes impossible to understand anything being said


When I said the characters don’t talk to each other, I really wasn’t kidding

Lessons Learned
One should remove all necklaces before going to sleep if not planning on being strangled by a bed

Sheets can make great lassos, but pillows are rather lazy accomplices

We may not know if androids dream of electric sheep, but Death Bed has taught us that demonic beds dream of spinning newspaper headlines chronicling their takeover of major cities


A great mustache does not a great actor make


Winning Line
“This place looks clean for having been abandoned so long. I hope there’s not a maniac around.”
Because maniacs are highly regarded for their impeccable homemaking skills


Rent/Bury/Buy
My recommendation for Death Bed will be in the same vein as my advice on Mahakaal, the Bollywood version of Nightmare On Elm Street. It’s not good enough to be worthy of your time or money, but if the very idea that this film actually exists fascinates you, you kind of have no choice but to rent it. The lone special feature is an interview with filmmaker George Barry, who does give a pretty intriguing back story to the film’s release. Watch if you must, but don’t say I didn’t warn you (that this is indeed a film about a bed that eats people).

Rock & Roll To Steal Your Soul

List of Things to Do Before I Die:


-Read Ulysses
-Catch a foul ball at CitiField
-Beat Zombies Ate My Neighbors on Super Nintendo

-Host a film party featuring a double showing of Hard Rock Zombies and Black Roses


Black Roses is not a good film, nor does it qualify as a so-bad-it's good stinker. In the cheerfully wide catalogue of 80s horror, Black Roses represents an average 90 minutes of decent rock, poor acting, and monsters that rotate between looking evil and resembling poor man's Muppets. Yes, it does mark the dubious film debut of Vincent Pastore, but worse crimes have been committed. If Hard Rock Zombies is a bowl of melted cheddar, Black Roses is the the liquid nacho topping that shoots out ingredients you can't pronounce onto your salty movie theater tortilla chips. It's always edible, but never quite delicious.


Quick Plot: A sleepy midwestern town is visited by the country's biggest metal band, Black Roses. The school board is mildly miffed by the offensiveness of hard rock but allow the band to play a few shows for the enjoyment of the very white teenage population. After the opening night performance, one lone high school teacher notices his students committing acts of violence and (gasp!) wearing muted colors to class. The only possible explanation would be that Black Roses are agents of Satan (or maybe Satan himself; it's unclear) set to collect the souls of America's youth, one Footloose-y town at a time.

Black Roses isn't quite as much fun as it sounds, but it has its moments. As Damien, the kooshball headed lead singer, Sal Vivianno fares somewhat better than the soft-spoken Jessie of Hard Rock Zombies, but demony puppets and killer turntables don't quite match cannibal Nazi dwarves in entertainment value. Lead actor John Martin has a decent presence, but none of the kids make strong enough impressions for us to really care about their fates. So ultimately, there's nothing mind or ear-blowing about Black Roses, except...well...it's a 1988 horror about a demonic hair metal band.


High Points
The variety of monster puppets shows some ingenuity, particularly in the opening scene music video

Props to actor John Martin, who manages to pull off the role of an overly caring high school teacher with female fans and a porno mustache without coming off as overly creepy

Low Points
Did the high school band perform the elaborate and not very appropriate score?


The final heroic pun is barely audible, which would make Buffy the Vampire Slayer shake her ponytail in shame


How does one set a climax at a rock concert and not end with a stage dive?

Lessons Learned
Underage breasts are quite versatile and inconsistently sized in small towns


In the 1980s, any girl named Tina was a slut


Tennis rackets, when used correctly, make excellent tools for demon bashing


Rent/Bury/Buy
There's something about these 80s high school horror flicks that's hard to resist, and Black Roses is certainly likable in its cheesiness. Under no definition is this a scary movie, but there's a lot of low budget heart to keep it watchable. A small selection of extras includes a compilation of Damien auditions, which surprisingly reveal that Vivianno may have been the best casting choice (at least from the drudge of a pool amassed in that collection). An affectionate audio commentary by director John Fasano, screenwriter Cindy Cirile, and their teenage children is joyfully humble and good-natured, but the overall rewatchability of Black Roses isn't quite as high as you would think. A rental should suffice.