I Know Who Spammed Me

A few weeks back, my email spammed a whole lot of people: friends, family, former employers, offices I had once applied to work in, renters on Craig's List, etc. While there may indeed be some people on that list welcoming a message about where to find top quality Viagra, I personally felt as though someone had stolen a piece of my identity, crawling around my inbox and mailing those who knew me with a poorly worded advertisement for something I’m not selling.

In modern banking terms, identity theft in a crime and nowhere is this more evident, frightening, or plain gross than horror cinema. Examine:

Possession

It's one thing to find someone else has been using your credit card, but feeling your body host an entirely different (usually evil) entity seems to violate just about every tenant of natural law. Pity The Exorcist's Regan, a mere teenager taken hostage by the cruel, kinky, and weak stomached demon Pazuzu. Similarly, entire towns seem to face a similar short term squatter menace in Wes Craven's Shocker, the Denzel Washington ripoff (face it) Fallen, and the weirdly experimental ninth installment of Friday the 13th. 

Complicated Disease

It’s not MY fault! The werewolf that bit me made me tear off my clothing and attack local loiterers! It’s an excuse used by a very unfortunate constituent of the lycanthropic population and really, how can you not sympathize with young Ginger Snaps, the confused Wolfman, and very tormented David in An American Werewolf In London? Yes, they all get to indulge their inner animal with a frolic in the nude, but as anybody who recognizes the name Rick Baker knows, those transformations just can’t be a scratch on the belly.

Bait & Switch

Perhaps the most physically complex and real estate-demanding identity theft can be seen in the four films (and assumedly counting) sci-fi series Invasion of the Body Snatchers, wherein imperialistic aliens harvest human-sized pods to grow replacement people that can continue your existence in monotone conformity. Those suffering from high blood pressure may see some benefits, but losing that emotion and individual spark means surrendering that quality that makes us human, for better and worse. Then again, the 2007 remake (shortened to The Invasion to best not confuse modern moviegoers) starred a plastic-faced Nicole Kidman as the feeling man’s last hope. So maybe the ability to show emotion doesn’t have so much weight after all.

Replacement Parts

And that leads us to another form of alternate you-ness that puts a whole lot of pressure on Ms. Kidman, the pop culture landmark The Stepford Wives. Based on the novel by Ira Levin, this satirical thriller of sexual politics in suburbia was made into one great film and another that challenges the English language to find words base enough to reflect a proper insult. The tale of Stepford is arguably the wrongest of all of these identity crimes because not only does it involve (spoilers) the murder/genocide of thinking women; it also means that after said strong women are dead, their names, faces, and bodies continue to be used in chauvinistic ways that would have made their living counterparts burn their bras in horror. 

Baby Swap ‘n Such

Due to the mysteries of human life and black and white limitations of ultrasounds, no woman can ever really know what’s brewing inside her uterus. Still, a consenting soon-to-be-mom generally assumes one guarantee: the child is a product of her and an identifiable male partner. Like any rule, there are always exceptions and one needs to look no further than the Rosemary’s Baby‘s Upper West Side, where poor Mia Farrow learns too late that her drunken night of lovemaking wasn’t exactly with the man in her wedding photo. A similar discovery befalls the illustrious Thorn family in 1976’s The Omen, when U.S. ambassador Gregory Peck trades his stillborn son for what he’s told is another innocent newborn. The next five years are then devoted to raising the antichrist. Hey, not everybody’s kid can be an honor student, but sometimes, it’s good to know what’s growing inside your home.

Species Conversion

As someone with a history of self-identifying as a morning person, I can’t imagine anything more horrifying than the biological constraints of vampirisim (well, maybe carrying Satan’s fetus but there are prenatal drugs for that). Aside from completely rearranging my natural schedule, the whole “loss of soul” thing is a viable reason to Just Say No to that handsome midnight caller with an unnatural ivory skin tone. One could make the same argument for zombiism, the disease to which no man or woman is immune. Looking past the obvious fear of being eaten, it’s the blankening of identity that makes this the horror genre’s favorite go-to monster. The idea that your mother could become your murderer is scary; that you would have no restraint at responding by hunting your own child is truly disturbing.

Recasted Sequels

In most cases, it’s the actor’s choice whether or not to reprise his or her role in a (usually) successful film’s followup, so it’s hard to ever feel sorry or concerned for the departing star. Still, it’s sometimes a lot to ask audiences to suddenly shift all sympathy to a replacement actor. Patricia Arquette’s Kristen backflipped her way through A Nightmare on Elm Street 3 only to morph into The Dream Master’s Tuesday Knight, a chain smoker who would probably cough up a lung before reaching the squatting position. Julianne Moore had the thankless task of inhabiting a newly redheaded Clarice Starling following Oscar winner Jodie Foster’s decline in Hannibal, and while Moore makes a believable FBI agent, it’s a jarringly confident makeover for our West Virginian brunette.

So how comfortable are you now in your own skin, and if given the choice, is it that bad to bid it adieu?

Gimme Five

You may have noticed that this blog’s poll has been stagnant now far longer than usual. I typically like to start each month with a fresh question that gauges my audience’s taste in one random field or another.

So why, you may be wondering, has May’s Cinco de Pollo not made a June exit? The cynical may say it’s due to slackerdom on my part, but those true of heart should trust in my powers to know I’m simply speechless over the recent results.

It’s an industrious little franchise that reaches the 5 mark. Also quite often, a stale one scrounging for spark. Looking at the choices I assembled, how in the Hellraiser: Inferno did Halloween 5 and Friday the 13th V: A New Beginning get so close to nipping at the tiny heels of Seed of Chucky?

Before I get ahead of myself, let’s take a quick moment to examine the runners-up:

Children of the Corn V: Fields of Terror (Zero votes)

A terrible title and a film I apparently watched on the SyFy Channel a few months back, yet have absolutely no memory of. Did the Men In Black stop by the Bronx, or is this really that forgettable? Hard to believe, considering IMDB includes David Carradine and my dream pimp, Fred Williamson in the cast. 

Hellraiser: Inferno (1%)

A film I definitely have never seen (and not just mentally blocked), this fifth installment has no Clive Barker backing but does star Nightbreed hunk Craig Sheffer and Ajax himself, James Remar. The latter makes me happy, but the latter also popped up for a scene or two in The Unborn  and look how well that turned out.

Leprechaun in Da Hood (3%)

As surprised as I was at the poor showing of this wannabe cult classic, I’ll chalk some of the sway over to that other (far superior) horror comedy starring a different vertically challenged redhead. Despite a superb premise, watching Warwick Davis rap is far less fun than should ever be possible.

A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child (4%)

Maybe not the worst of the series but certainly the dullest (though the more critically acclaimed New Nightmare works hard to take that title). You’d think that the complexity of fetal dreams could at least birth some subtext (even Freddy’s Revenge managed to salvage its awfulness via homosexual metaphors) but aside from the apparent pro-life stance taken so early, this fifth Freddy romp is devoid of just about anything interesting. Lisa Wilcox’s Alice enters with mild residual sympathy, but her new batch of everyone’s-got-a-gimmick friends don’t bring much weight to the saga. Aside from a neat-enough comic book inspired death, Nightmare 5 is a snooze.

Hannibal Rising (6%)

There was a time when I was really excited to see this film. Most of that yearning came from the fact that Dominic “McNulty” West and Kevin “Lucious Vorenus” McKidd were listed in the credits. Four of you readers out there in the world would, it would seem, convince me to indeed rekindle that urge I once had. Perhaps one day when I find myself with a meat craving, I shall.

Saw V (6%)

The worst of the series and the epitome of what people who haven’t seen the films (but really want to complain about them anyway) would use as ammunition. Convoluted plot, characters we have no investment in, various loose ends, and an uninspired setup that manages to recycle plot points from just about every film before it. Power to Saw VI  for rescuing a franchise I had almost declared dead (Donny Walberg head smash dead, not Dr. Gordon is-he-or-isn’t-he deadish).

Diary of the Dead (8%)

In my personal estimation, Romero’s fifth in his Dead quintology (well now, sextology? stop giggling) series receives some unfair panning. Its weaknesses are glaring, but so were Day of the Dead’s (actors without indoor voices anyone?) and I will argue to my death that were the monotone narration removed, this would be considered a genuinely okay film.

Halloween 5 (22%)

Danielle Harris returns to give another fine underage performance, but aside from that, I have absolutely no idea why 14 of you presumably smart, kind and beautiful readers find anything to love about this lesser slasher. Enlighten me. Please.

Friday the 13th Part V: A New Beginning (22%)

Much like Halloween 5, this (spoiler alert) Jason-free installment teases audiences with the possibility that the previous film’s child survivor is now donning a dime store mask to match a bloody weapon. It's a tease that doesn't pay off, and the film's sole interest point seems to be the utter sleaziness it proudly sports. Are there really people out there in the world that dare to cite this a superior film to Jason Takes Manhattan???

The Winner, thank goobers:

Seed of Chucky (25%)

I’ve yet to fully expand on why I love this gleefully camped-out entry, but for now, heed my recommendation that if you haven’t seen Seed of Chucky, you're missing out on something really neat. 

It’s funny. 

It’s gross. 

Touching. 

Rather adorable. 

Bizarre.

And John Waters gets a cameo. 

Get to it.

Lottos and Torture and Boars, Oh My!

The time has come.

Kind of.

On May 23rd, the world said goodbye to something very special. Scoff at unexplained physics, the mere presence of Nikki & Paulo, and the weekly questioning of “Why are you telling me this?” but for six years, LOST gave us a weekly viewing experience unlike anything else ever seen on television.

So how to fill that Hurley-sized void in your Island-less heart? One way ticket to Hawaii? Pricey. Enlistment in the Dharma Initiative? Perilous. New career as a con man/spinal surgeon/fertility doctor/rock star/protector of golden light? There has to be an easier way!

And naturally, there is and all you need are a few great horror movies. So dear Islanders and Tailies, Sideways inhabitants and Others, I give you a few key elements of your favorite ABC show and how you might fill them.

1. Terry O’Quinn

Even Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof couldn't let go of one of the industry’s longest underrated actors, a bald and enigmatic presence so vital to the universe that he took on a whole new role as Evil (maybe) Incarnate in the final two, post-dead John Locke seasons. So where does one go for that sparking blue-eyed smile that never quite feels right? The late 80s, naturally. In 1987’s The Stepfather (and its first sequel), O’Quinn plays--wait, who is he again? We’ll call him Jerry, the name he takes to woo a lovely widow and later, attempt to kill her and the family she has left. By far the second best way to see this charmer wield an oversized knife.

2. Torture

Sayid, you scamp! From the Iraqi National Guard to Sawyer’s fingernails, everyone’s favorite curly-haired loveboat was quite the expert when it came to inflicting pain. Life won’t quite be the same without his sad puppy dog eyes seeking validation or that petite Benjamin Linus accepting that sweaty fist in his cheek, but thanks to the 21st century trend of torture porn, you can at least pretend their spirits live on. Sure, you could go standard and find a cheap boxed set of Saw or Hostel, but why not make like Charles Widmore sipping aged scotch and go classy with the philosophical genre twisting Martyrs. Yes, you’ll have to read subtitles (unless you decide to wait for the American remake, brought to you by the people who made Twilight which is sure to be the best thing you can possibly ever in your life witness) and yes, the film isn’t for everyone, but much like Lost, Pascal Laugier’s Martyrs takes viewers on an ambiguous, poetic, and post-death journey (maybe) that happens to be accompanied by a whole lot of blood and beatings.

3. Crazy French Woman Trying to Steal Your Baby

Danielle Rousseau, we hardly knew ye, but one thing we were sure of was just how much you missed your little girl. Left alone for 16 years with nothing but surprisingly tame bangs and a rifle, this shipwrecked mother wanted nothing more than her child back in her arms...even if (briefly), she had to take someone else’s. Where to find that special mother with a hole in her heart? Easy: Inside. Beatrice Dalle’s La Femme. Basically, it’s the same exact thing. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

4. Surgeons Under the Influence

From Jack’s shaky pain medicated hands to his dad’s functional alcoholism, Lost was never a role model for hospital interns. Now that Dr. Shepard squared has gone on to a better, hopefully less accident-prone place, where will we fans ever find our illegal and falsified prescriptions of malpracticing hunks? Canada, naturally. In David Cronenberg’s 1988 masterpiece Dead Ringers, Jeremy Irons plays--whaddya know--two related gynecologists slowly slipping into a drug addicted depression. While wielding medical instruments. On women’s vaginas. Wow. This makes a mere 18-hour spinal cord rebuilding look like a romp on the beach.

5. Undoing the Past

“What happened, happened!” shouted so many an island survivor, but Lost’s final season tried awfully hard to put us in a reality where it didn’t. For a somewhat similar plot thread, check out 2004’sThe Butterfly Effect, an ambitiously flawed sci-fi love story of sorts that also shared a few random Lost ties: leading men temporarily bound to wheelchairs, likable dogs, surprise bombs with devastating results, and black-and-white journals that also serve as vouchers for time traveling.

6. Boars

John Locke instantly proved his worth by serving up porkchops his first week as a castaway, but Gary Oldman found himself on the wrong side of dinner when his wheelchair-bound--whoa! double link!--millionaire molester reunited with Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lector.

7. Smoke Monster

Gray precipitation that moistens the air and summons ghosts? Call your lawyer, John Carpenter! Though Smokey, aka The Man In Black When Mobile didn’t have a whole lot in common with the pirate ghoulies of 1980’s The Fog, there are plenty of random links: shipwrecks, radio towers, Maggie Grace (a few steps removed of course). But hey. It’s John Carpenter’s The Fog. Do you really need another reason?

8. The Lottery

Ever say to yourself “If my numbers would just come up, all my problems would be solved!” Then you watched Hugo “Hurley” Reyes lose his friends, grandfather, and sanity in a pile of green and said, “Well, A LOT of my other problems would still be solved!” Maybe you need a harsher lesson in the fickle nature of Lady Luck. If that’s the case, queue up Final Destination 2 for a reality check, where one newly minted motorcyclist learns the hard way that money may buy gold rings and frozen dinners, but it won’t pay off Death to spare you from an eye gouging via fire escape.

9. Plane Crash

First class or coach, passengers on Oceanic Flight 815 started the series with a horror movie of their own, a crash that had the nerve to menace them even on land (pity the poor sucked-into-engine pilot). For the big screen, few films have ever quite matched the chaotic horror of 1993’s Alive, a crash made all the more terrifying by the fact that it actually happened.

10. The Numbers

Though we never learned the true significance of 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, and 42, just knowing such digits held mystical and/or electromagnet powers was enough to keep us constantly ruminating on their place in the world (and on our own lottery tickets). What better companion piece is there then, than Vincenzo Natali's low budget 1997 mystery Cube, a film which shares Lost’s penchant for ambiguity, mismatched people forced to work together, and characters named after something they vaguely represent (in this case, American prisons). Also, savvy mathematicians (which thankfully includes one of Cube’s leads) are quick to latch onto the numerals found inside each cubic doorway, decoding their meaning and thus providing Losies with their own fan-fiction fantasy answer involving square roots and booby traps. 

We're Gonna Have a MONTAGE!

I wasn’t going to say it. 

I was going to let it go. 

After two weeks devoted to film awards an Oscar politics, I truly expected to wake up Monday morning with a new topic on my mind. I could block out The Blind Side’s Sandra Bullock blindsiding worthier, non-nominated actresses like Antichrist’s Charlotte Gainsbourg. As long as the Academy let me bask in Kathryn Bigelow’s victory--to which I could easily rewrite in my head as actually being an honor of Near Dark, sort of like how Scorcese’s The Departed trophy actually just says Goodfellas--I could move on. Hey, there was even a special montage reserved to acknowledge the fact that horror is a legitimate genre of film!

...‘bout that...

To begin: Kristen Stewart. Taylor Lautner. On switch.

Now I refuse to enter into a debate about whether vampires do indeed shimmer or Kristen Stewart’s personality exists. Twilight gets teenagers reading and theater seats filled, so anger is aimed not at those young, possibly empty heads on far too pretty bodies. No. Let’s look to the general planners of the Oscar ceremony, who somehow take not one minute to consider the fact that a pair of teen actors starring in a franchise aimed at 14 year old girls did not, in any real way, honor the horror genre.

Giving Roger Corman, the man responsible for hundreds of films and dozens of genuine filmmakers (including Academy Award winners themselves like Ron Howard) an honorary Oscar for lifetime achievement? Yes, that’s nice. Know what would have been nicer? Hearing him speak.

My other favorite part followed Kristen Stewart’s premature smoker’s cough: “It’s been 37 years since horror had its place on this show.” What “place” that is remains unclear. The Exorcist, cited as the last horror film allowed to have anything to do with the Oscars, picked up trophies for Screenplay and Sound, in which, presumably, the recipients stepped on stage and had their moment on television. Much like the men and women responsible for the following wins for work in horror cinema:

Jaws*:Sound, Editing, Score

The Omen*: Score

Alien*:Visual Effects

An American Werewolf in London: Makeup

Aliens*: Visual Effects, Sound Effects Editing

Beetlejuice*: Makeup

Bram Stoker’s Dracula*: Costume Design, Sound Effects Editing, Makeup,

Sleepy Hollow*: Art Direction

Sweeney Todd:Art Direction

*Films actually referenced in the montage

So The Exorcist won Best Screenplay, which is an admitted major accomplishment not generally reserved for genre cinema, and a technical award, well-deserved and something, as you can see from the list, nine subsequent “horror” films went on to win as well. Not to mention The Sixth Sense and Jaws--both featured in the montage--were nominated for Best Picture, and a slew more genre films boasted nods in the acting categories

Oh! And did I forget something? Because the Academy did. Mostly the first film since Once Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest to win the qui-fecta of Best Screenplay (much like The Exorcist), Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress, and oh yeah, Best Picture.

Don’t try to tell me Silence of the Lambs is not a horror movie, particularly if you then plan on including multiple clips of it in a five minute montage called “A Salute to Horror Films.” 

Few viewers were happier than yours truly to see the likes of Chucky, the blood-dripping (but sadly not rappin’) Leprechaun, Leatherface, and Baby Jane herself sharing the stage later graced by Oscar royalty and designer gowns. But something about the whole segment felt both pandering and patronizing. Hearing the barely legal Lautner and couldn’t-care-less Stewart talk about horror as if was the fat girl at the prom just felt insulting, made far worse by the simple lack of sense in any of the teleprompter script.

I admire the choice to throw a bone to the industry’s most under-appreciated genre. If only the nominations could ever prove that this odd affirmative action type time filler was unnecessary to give it the respect it deserved.

Fair is Foul This Friday

Last Thursday marked the 445th birthday of one William Shakespeare. I imagine thou art wondering what this doth have to do with um, thou. Easy as a Cliffs Notes cheat sheet: The Bard not only mastered iambic pentameter, but he also created quite a few tales for modern horror filmmakers to make their own. 

Macbeth

Perhaps Shakespeare’s most famous tragedy is, conveniently enough, one of his bloodiest. Theatre geeks shudder in fear at the very sound of its name, while the audience gets treated to talk of a premature C-section 500 years before Inside and the kind of shriveled old witches that set the standard for side characters in films like Clash of the Titans and Deadtime Stories. Ghosts, child murderers, and one of the greatest female villains in fictional history round out the original work, so it’s not surprise that horror helmers have taken their shots at the ambitious lord and lady and their Scottish plotting. For a fairly faithful but also generously gory pick, I’d go with Roman Polanski’s 1971 adaptation. Shot two years after the horrific murder of Sharon Tate, Polanski’s Macbeth has a genuine darkness, squeezing the horror out of Shakespeare’s words and discarding some of the lighter moments. Heterosexual male viewers will be happy to learn that Playboy co-financed the film, resulting in some gratuitous (and some plot-required) female nudity.

Titus Andronicus

I don’t mean to assume anything about my readers, but if you’re a genre fan, am I correct in guessing you enjoy your share of cinematic cannibalism and dismemberment with the occasional rape and human sacrifice tossed in? If so, look no further than Julie Taymor’s 1999 visually gluttonous adaptation of Shakespeare’s first big hit. Some literary snobs have attempted to distance their beloved bard from penning the equivalent of Elizabethan exploitation, but Shakespeare’s elegant language and intricate storytelling is there, albeit to teach a lesson about vengeance with gruesome humor and black humor. Much like modern filmmakers who cut their teeth in the horror genre, young William broke out with this tale of Romans and Goths (historical, not Hot Topic-al) and Taymor spares no feelings or PG13 rating in ripping through the fall of a great general at the macabre bidding of a charismatic sociopath. Taymor brilliantly casts a tongue-in-cheek Anthony Hopkins, who basically channels Hannibal Lector after a few too many Chiantis. Yes, the words are Willy’s, but the Virgin Queen wouldn’t be wearing white to her non-existent wedding after watching this one.

Romeo & Juliet

What’s more horrifying than the film that made a star out of Claire Danes, essentially ending production of My So-Called Life and beginning the tragic de-hunkifying downward spiral of the man formerly known as Jordan Catalano? Okay, so Baz Lurhmann’s Florida rave-ish re-staging may not be what you’re looking for, but those trying to avoid memories of 9th grade English class need not fear: for every simple story with a title ripe for punning, there is a Lloyd Kauffman. That’s right: Tromeo & Juliet, a tale of forbidden romance with piggishly deformed lovers, is Troma Studio’s retelling of Shakespeare’s best known weepfest, with the characters you know and the gross-out humor you long for. It’s probably not the film to cite on your midterm, but it does provide more mutations than the typical high school production.

Othello

This is commonly known as Shakespeare’s racial drama, but my filmic recommendation ignores that aspect and focuses instead on the poisonous nature of jealousy and distrust. And roller skates. That’s right: bring on the Jezebels.  As Quentin Tarantino points out in the special edition DVD, Jack Hill’s 1975 Switchblade Sisters is a fairly straightforward re-imaging of Othello. The powerful yet insecure Lace takes on the part of the doomed Moor, as her Iago-esque friend Patch whispers suspicions in the gang leader’s little ear, forcing Lace to question new sister Maggie and her intentions towards Domonic’s Desdemona. True, Shakespeare didn’t script shootouts or forced nerd prostitution, but Switchblade Sisters proves that a good story is timeless--even if the fashion is not.

With the financial success of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, I figure it’s only a matter of time before Hamlet is dusted off to be played by an angsty Twilight alum. In the meantime, feel classy and cultured the old fashioned way and share your thoughts below. Bonus points for anyone that puts their comments in sonnet form.