Charlotte's Web

As I've said before, Amazon Prime is a wild minefield when it comes to horror. Its newer indie output is usually less than stellar, but after the joy of Crush the Skull, I've been more and more willing to take a chance on its recommendations. Since nine years of The Shortening has made it harder and harder to find anything featuring killers under 4', to the trenches we go!

Quick Plot: A teenage babysitter has just put her charge to bed and decides to kill the rest of her time on duty watching Night of the Living Dead (shout out to public domain!) and chatting with her horny boyfriend. Unfortunately for her, the creepy doll hanging out in the living room has other plans.

Before you can say "I guess the doll's name is Charlotte because that's what the film's cover art implied even though it's never mentioned in the rest of the movie and Charlotte is the name of a character in one story only", Charlotte (yes, I'm now calling the doll Charlotte for convenience) has the young woman bound and gagged. Her punishment? Being forced to watch a collection of horror shorts.

I realize most of what I've said thus far in this review sounds negative, but to my shock, I kind of enjoyed Charlotte. Like every anthology not named Creepshow, the segments vary wildly in quality, but for what I have to assume was a next-to-nothing budget, the overall product worked far better than expected.

Unfortunately, IMDB lists just about nothing about this film other than the names of the multiple directors (Colin Campbell, John Edward Lee, Calvin Main, Corey Norman, Patrick Rea, and April Wright). Hence, expect little and inaccurate detail as I sum up the stories:

1- My favorite of the bunch, a tale of jealous twin sisters whose rivalry over a doll as children festers into something far more sinister as petty adults. Fun, quick, and clever in its twists.

2- A fairly straightforward, but decently told story about a couple who receive a strange grown woman dressed as a doll as a trick or treater, and the hell that follows.

3- Another babysitter-with-a-boyfriend story. In this case, a young woman teases a little boy with tales of a foot-eating troll, only to meet the monster herself.

4- A strange, rather payoff-less quickie about a man embarking on a demonic sacrifice. Fingers are eaten. That is that.

5- The strongest in the bunch, a light-hearted dark comedy about persistent Girl Scouts--er, "Adventure Girls"-- and their nefarious cookie plans.

6- A wildly different tale in terms of tone, this follows a woman waking up in a basement out of Jigsaw's design guide to find a pedophile murderer tied up at her disposal. It involves a lot of shouting and I kind of hated it.

7- Starring one of the women who didn't win season 1 of VH1's Scream Queens (SIDE NOTE! REMEMBER THAT JAMES GUNN AND SHAWNEE SMITH ONCE HOSTED A REALITY COMPETITION TO PICK SOMEONE TO DIE IN SAW VI???), this story follows a lonely little girl who mysteriously receives a doll who, you might guess, has bad things in mind for the woman who didn't win Scream Queens (Sarah Agor).

8- The final segment centers on a savvy kid who wants to sneak into a horror marathon at a mysterious, meat-filled theater. With a fun and playful twist, it's the right note to end on.

What can you say about eight unrelated short films loosely tied together? That Charlotte works on any level is something of an achievement. None of the segments succeed as actual scary horror tales, but all are quick, and for the most part, offer something mildly new. Considering the dregs of anthology segments I've sat through, that's impressive.

Lessons Learned
Contrary to popular cultural portrayals, trolls actually resemble burn victims with tiny Trump hands

Suburban walls are incredibly soundproof

Evil dolls are terrible influences on young girls, especially in how they make them worry about gluten

Every babysitter will try to have sex while on duty

Rent/Bury/Buy
There are better horror anthologies out there, but as we've seen time and time again, there are a whole lot worse too. Charlotte is a wild mixed bag, but the worst segments go by quickly and the best have some neat fun. It's worth a casual watch, especially compared to some of its Amazon Prime competition.

I See No Aliens! No Really: They're Invisible, I Don't See Them

When TCM Underground airs a film whose description boils down to "alien zombies in business suits," you're not going to get much of an argument out of me.

Quick Plot: In the years following the nuclear devastation of World War II, many scientists became hesitant to continue exploring atomic physics. After his colleague Karol Noymann is killed in a lab explosion, Dr. Adam Penner decides to step away from science altogether. 

Things change significantly when Adam is visited by Karol's reanimated corpse, now occupied by an alien invader issuing a warning: tell the world to surrender or his space companions will take over the rest earth's dead bodies and wreak havoc upon the entire planet. We are invisible aliens who have been living on the moon, and now, we want to eff you up.

Shockingly, the general public doesn't quite buy the initial message.

A few demonstrations are in order, as the aliens make some pit stops at large sporting events to spread their message. For added dramatic effect, they also begin destroying major buildings, bridges, and dams across the world. Worst of all, they make good on their promise to take over recent corpses, lumbering through the streets in the guise of the deceased.

Yes indeed, Invisible Aliens is an early zombie film, and surprisingly good one at that. While the selling point for me may have indeed been "alien zombies in business suits," the final product is creepy, quick, and rewarding. Director Edward Cahn attacks the material from a smart and timely standpoint, making our main characters an interesting assortment of post-war types. We start with the scientists dealing with the guilt of atomic warfare and now having to re-enter the aggressive developments to save the world again. Later, a regular ol’ American soldier becomes a key player in addressing the morality of zombie/ghost/alien warfare.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Invisible Aliens--this here early zombie film that I’ve never heard mentioned in film discussion before--was viewed by a young George Romero some time before hauling a film crew to Pittsburgh. While there were certainly zombie movies prior to this one, the shambling corpses on display here are easily the closest thing I’ve seen a genuine precursor to Night of the Living Dead. When you smartly stuff that narrative into a swift 67 minutes, you’re doing a lot right. 

High Points

While the effects are certainly dated, the basic concept and design of these invisible corpse renting invaders is quite unnerving 

Low Points

This really has nothing to do with the film, but when I google image search “invisible aliens,” all that comes up first are stills from what might be the most infuriating film I’ve ever reviewed here, The Darkest Hour. Yes, it has invisible aliens, but it’s also THE STUPIDEST THING YOU SHOULD NEVER SEE.

Rant. Over.

Lessons Learned

It's pretty difficult to convince the American public that the planet is about to be invaded by invisible space invaders who possess corpses without a hint of evidence

Invisible moon people do not lift their feet when they walk

The best place to start spreading a message of planetary invasion is Syracuse, NY

Rent/Bury/Buy

Any zombie lover who hasn’t seen Invisible Aliens should definitely carve out a whopping 67 minutes to sneak it in. This isn’t the best sci-fi horror film to come out of the ‘50s, but it’s far better than many and offers a whole lot to enjoy in its brief running time. In the current open encyclopediac culture of cinema, I’m surprised it’s not discussed more often. 

Oh Hai George

As some of you might know, the ponytailed national (turned Canadian) treasure is responsible for my favorite film of all time, a little slice of zombie mayhem and mall madness known as Dawn of the Dead. Regarding the rest of his filmography, I can simply say it’s a mixed trick-or-treating pillow case from an economically challenged neighborhood, filled with some tasty, if cheaper store-brand candy, slick but tasteless Good ‘N Plenty, and a heavy percentage of frustrating Milk Duds.

To give a brief summary of my estimation of the Dead sextology, so you know where I’m coming from in reviewing Survival:

Night: Classic, brutal, groundbreaking and still effective. The modern horror movie.

Dawn: I hug it once a day, just so that it knows I still love everything about it.

Day: Though it's grown on me over the years, I still declare Day to be overrated and kind of obnoxious, filled with good ideas (Dr. Frankenstein), amazingly crafted zombies, and a batch of characters I would like to shoot myself

Land: Underrated, the kind of film that gets progressively better for me on repeat viewings. Once I got over my initial excitement-met-with-disappointment in the theaters, I’ve been able to watch this much more objectively to say it’s far more relevant and better made than I had initially thought

Diary: A mess, but not as embarrassing (in my estimation) as others make it out to be. I like the idea of going back to the start with a comparably low budget and believe it or not, I even like some of the themes. Unfortunately, Romero insists on molding said themes into a giant orb and bashing us over the head with it via a bland and awful narrator.

And thusly do we enter 2009’s Survival of the Dead, a continuation of sorts of Diary that mixes shambling “deadheads” with feuding Irish clans off the coast of Delaware (I’m serious). Let us begin.

Quick Plot: AWOL from the National Guard, Sarge (Diary cameo-er Alan Van Sprang) and a few of his cohorts decide to follow a suspicious ‘Net (yup, the same entity that robbed Sandra Bullock of her identity in 1995) advertisement to an island paradise off the coast of...Delaware (cue Wayne’s World clip of "Hi! I'm in...Delaware"). 

En route, the team picks up a moody, if efficient teenager and lands at the dock. Not surprisingly, they meet some opposition from both zombies and humans, in this case, Patrick O’Flynn, an exiled old man looking to send some trouble the way of his former home. I think. 

Anyway, a fairly interesting boat escape sends our gang on a ferry, O’Flynn hopping onboard to give proper directions to the oddly leprechaun-less island. Romero starts to have a little fun setting up the strange society fashioned by O’Flynn’s rival, Seamus Muldoon. Where O’Flynn had attempted to purge his land of all the undead, shooting any soul with gray skin, Muldoon sought to preserve all victims in their former state with the hopes that one day, some smart Frankensoul might discover a cure.

Such a conflict is interesting in itself, especially when we get a peek at chained zombie mailmen delivering some bills and undead farmers fruitlessly plowing the fields. Yes, it’s ridiculous for a rotting corpse to maintain enough tension in her body to ride a horse for three weeks (don’t those ankles give out, Mr. Romero?) but I honestly don’t mind a seasoned, somewhat bored filmmaker trying out new tricks with the genre he created.

Of course, ‘not minding’ the idea of experimentation doesn’t mean anything when it’s executed so poorly. Survival is a weirdly awful film, one that tries to be funny without telling any good jokes, then attempts to make a statement by forcing its who-cares narrator (another narrator? HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING FROM DIARY OF THE DEAD???) to deliver a lazy diatribe on What It All Means. The final image of Survival is interesting; it didn’t have to explain itself.

You can understand the uncomfortably picklish Catch-22 Mr. Romero has found himself in. For forty years, film fans have been crying for more zombie movies, but by most accounts, Romero ended that era with Day of the Dead. He found new ground with Land then, I imagine, realized he was out of gas once more. Rebooting the zombie myth with Diary made sense...it was just poorly done. So now, at the age of 70, everybody's favorite newly declared expat seems to say "Whatever. I like Westerns. They like zombies. Here's my compromise." The attitude is refreshing. The film is not.

By far, the worse thing about Survival is not necessarily its acting--none of which is particularly good, but hey: Romero’s always been more about presence than performance--but the ridiculous broad nature of its characters. It’s fine to have a diverse cast, but not when each is defined by their ‘thing.’ You know you’re in a bad low budget film, for example, not when there’s a lesbian character, but when said lesbian insists on telling you with every line of dialogue that she likes to have sex with women. Are all lesbians as horny as they come off in bad horror movies?

High Points

Considering the vast use of stereotypes to define virtually every character onscreen, I’ll give Romero minor credit for having a spunky Irish brunette that wasn't named, as most spunky Irish brunettes in film are, Kate. Also, it would have been so easy to add a leprechaun so you know...restraint.

At first, "Survival" of the Dead seems like an arbitrary word pulled from a dictionary to replace the already used times of day in the title. However, I will say that it actually fits the film and its storyline. So that's something.

Low Points

I don't want to hop on the boo-hoo-CGI train, especially since I think most of the Survival zombie kills looked fine. But did the first major headshot have to be more digitalized than something out of Left For Dead?

SPOILERS

I understand that ever since Barbra whined her way through the farmhouse and silly Judy went up in flames, George Romero has attempted to atone for Night's not-too-bright-or-brave female characters. Still, aside from Gaylen Ross's Franny, has there ever been a realistic or likable woman to survive his dead films? Making your female tough doesn't make her real, a trend continued here with the ridiculous, bland, and aggressively butch (and obviously named) Tomboy, played by Athena Karkanis (Saw IV-VI).

THUS ENDETH SPOILERS

Lessons Learned

With that, just in case you didn't know, this movie taught me that lesbians dig hot chicks

Handguns do indeed work after being submerged in water

People who grow up in Alabama will not in any way develop a trace of a deep Southern accent. Perhaps it's beaten out of you in the National Guard

Um. Zombies bite people. Just in case you forgot, despite living on an island with them for three months


Killing yourself is a one way ticket to hell

There is a magical Irish-filled isle off the coast of Delaware where all inhabitants dress like John Wayne or extras in the Oregon Trail

Rent/Bury/Buy

I so wanted to like, or at least not mind this film. Sigh. Maybe hybrid fans of cheesy Saturday morning Westerns and old school zombies will get the humor. I didn't. Then again, I do believe Romero, unlike someone more stuck in a bygone era of filmmaking like Argento, has a weird Cassandra-like power of making movies that look and feel better twenty years down the road. I do indeed cite Land (now 5 years old) as a prime example of a film that is simply stronger with so much time between its initial release. Perhaps Survival will follow?

So do I recommend the film? I can't tell you not to watch it:it's a Romero zombie movie for goodness sake. But be prepared to be baffled. Those who simply hate the idea of a childhood hero now slumming in a weird land of make believe may want to skip it. Better yet, if you were a Star Wars fan who considers the prequels to be dangerous to your health, then avoid Survival of the Dead. At the same time, you're a curious movie fan who needs to open Pandora's box. Maybe it won't be that bad. For you.


--

You Know You've Made the Naughty List When You Meet Santa Claws

One of the difference between films and flicks (according to Emily Intravia's Encyclopedia of Filmic Knowledge, copyright pending) is that a film stands on any ground while a flick is made--sometimes exclusively--for a very specific audience. I often look to movies classified in the children’s section as prime examples: I wasn’t charmed by The Lion King 2: Simba's Pride, but the kids I babysat for in the 90s could easily watch it all day long, while WALL-E and The Muppet Movie remain triumphant masterpieces for viewers of any age. As much as I'd like to, I find it hard to tear apart something like Beverly Hills Chihuahua; some films simply aren’t mine to destroy.

Santa Claws, a 1996 direct-to-video release, was not made with someone like me in mind, mostly because I’m not fourteen, male, or a Cinemax subscriber. It may be directed by none other than Night of the Living Dead’s screenwriter John A. Russo and feature several familiar horror faces, but this is not, I repeat, NOT the kind of film any old genre bug should rent on a whim and expect satisfaction.

Quick Plot: Scream Queen Illustrated is branching out for the holiday season with a new video series starring busty models rubbing gift boxes over their tanning booth certified skin. Star Raven Quinn (Debbie Rochon) is a tad distracted by her crumbing marriage to a greasy photographer. Thankfully, her kindly neighbor Wayne is harnessing a fatal attraction so he’s always around to babysit her daughters and sedate them with spiked hot cocoa.

Now surpisingly, Wayne’s infatuation grows to homicidal proportions. This has something to do with him once witnessing his mother and a Santa hat-clad stepfather doing it on Christmas Eve and promptly shooting them dead. Such a childhood experience will apparently inspire young men to don Street Fighter’s Vega-esque gloves made from a garden weasel and hunt down softcore porn stars with a fiery (eh, slightly warmed) hatred.

This is the kind of film with interesting enough cover art that any attentive video store clerk would simply refuse to rent out. There’s a mildly interesting (in theory) story thread about horror conventions and the potentially dangerous fandom/adoration they birth in lonely men, but you have to pretend that gigantic glass of heavily rummed eggnog is more than halfway full to consider any of the film worthwhile. It's not. In any way. At all.

High Points

Debbie Rochon is no Cate Blanchett, but she does put forth an enthusiastic energy that makes at least some of Santa Claws watchable enough, and her interview in the DVD's extras do prove her an intelligent and articulate performer deserving of far better work in film

Don’t be fooled by the two hour running time listed on the Netflix’s DVD jacket. If Santa Claws has nothing else going for it, at least it only clocks in at 80 minutes (about 30 of which are devoted to naked women gently violating stuffed animals,  another 15 to low rent Christmas songs played while characters drive, and 80 to a film that just should not be viewed)

Low Points

I didn’t really need elaborate striptease sequences, but if the whole appeal of the female cast is that they’re “scream queens,” wouldn’t it be more appropriate if the nudity had something to do with horror? A witches hat and broom don’t count.

There’s just about nothing remotely clever regarding any of the dialogue. Sample villain’s threat: "Seasons greetings. Santa Claws is coming to town!” Really? That’s all you got? 

Lessons Learned

Children are easily entertained by rather tragic stories of alcoholics stalking their mothers

A lot of people like looking at skin, especially when it’s mostly artificial and dry humping a teddy bear

Uptight in-laws have nothing better to do than wait at home to judge you

When your Santa suit needs some badass makeover, grab a can of spray paint

Rent/Bury/Buy

Um. I guess if you like watching women throw packing peanuts over their fake breasts as electric music plays on loop, this is the film for you. Plain old fashioned horror fans should stay as far away as absolutely possible, as there’s nothing but an uncomfortable actor muffling dialogue under a ski mask and occasionally hugging lax security guards to death. Even porn enthusiasts should be worn: while the writing seems catered to establishing boring conversations that will quickly escalate into X territory, there’s no actual sex scenes to not enjoy. Unless you need to stuff some DVD equivalent of coal in someone’s stocking, stay far away. 

America, Eff Yeah (or something something)

As my fellow Americans and I prepare to gorge ourselves on hamburgers and s’mores (side note: does a s’more hamburger sound good, or am I just really hungry?), I thought it would be patriotic--or, well, timely--to round up a few installments of my favorite genre that represent some aspect of United States history. A complete timeline wasn’t possible because a) as far as I know, we’re still waiting for the proper Columbus-as-Godzilla analogy of my dreams and b) there aren’t nearly enough (that I know of) films set in the past. 

Still, I did manage to pull a few titles/notable time periods for your movie marathon. No matter what color passport you may keep, feel free to add more below. Based on some of my picks, we need all the help we can to make history not repeat itself.

Puritannia!

Truth be told, I can’t think of any great American horror films that truly capture the restrictiveness of Christian culture. Peter Weir’s brilliantly haunting Picnic At Hanging Rock does an incredible job of exploring the unnatural atmosphere of Victorian society, but, well, that classic is set in the 1900s on another British colony that begins with A. For colonial horror of a more cerebral ilk, one could check out the we’re-the-real-monsters A-list headed The Crucible, starring a horny Winona Ryder, a brooding Daniel Day Lewis, and lots of black magic loving teenagers who scream more than all Jason’s final girls combined or an entire cycle’s worth of America’s Next Top Model contestants. If so-bad-it’s-still-not-good films are your cup of tea, then sit yourself down for an MST3K zinger-ready viewing of Demi Moore’s Oscar-baiting, Razzie winning performance as Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter. It teaches some important national lessons, such as don’t have sex with priests even if they are Gary Goldman and never under any circumstances overestimate your acting ability.

Manifest Destiny

Go west, young man! And if in doubt, eat your fatter travel companions. The infamous Donnor Party of the 1840s ventured into unchartered territory by heading across the country in search of gold and good settling ground, but they’re far more remembered for their survival spirit and taste in good old fashioned American red meat. American citizen meat, that is. Short on supplies and near starvation, these ill-fated pioneers eventually began eating their fellow (dead, I believe) travelers, thus beginning our national tradition of cannibalistic antiheroes. Without them, would Anthony Hopkins have ever won an Oscar? (probably). For totally unfaithful adaptations of this event, see the well-made Ravenous or Trey Parker and Matt Stone’s Tromarrific Cannibal! The Musical. Warning: you will be singing about baked potatoes, snowmen, and trackers for weeks without fail. And you may want to eat people. I honestly don’t know which is worse. 

The Civil War

The bloodiest event in American history pitted brother against brother, North against South, and twangs against Yank speak. In terms of body count, it’s our most devastating war, although oddly enough, you won’t find a large amount of horror films addressing the subject. Near Dark adds an excellently evil layer to Lance Henrickson’s vampire by giving him a Confederate backstory (slavery supporting AND undead? shudders). One of my favorite forgotten horror anthologies, the Vincent Price starring From a Whisper to a Scream (aka The Offspring) sets its final segment during the last days of the Civil War, when a group of children orphaned by the North’s dominance find their own method of Reconstruction (hint: it involves a lot of pieces). The amateur acting is spotty, but the gritty barrenness of a war-torn society (rarely seen in the U.S. but sadly far more common elsewhere) is explored in a truly frightening way.

The 1960s

In 1968, George Romero changed American (and international) cinema with the gore-filled, hero lacking Night of the Living Dead. Aside from introducing the world to unlimited hours of entertainment in planning zombie escape plans, this little black and white horror captured a changing tide in national sentiment. The blatant acknowledgement of unequal treatment of blacks, the inefficiency of government authorities, and the disenchantment with the American heroism by the reality of Vietnam  has aged well in the 40 years since it’s midnight premiere. It won’t make you proud of this country, but it remains one of its most important cinematic milestones.

Getting depressed by the state of the red white and blue? For an all-American palette cleanser, check out 1997’s low budget, high body count Uncle Sam. Yes, it’s pretty much 85 minutes of patriotic kills using every implement you’ll touch this July 4th (flag pole? check; bbq? check; firecrackers? you get the point) and no, it’s not good. But with American heroes Isaac Hayes and Robert Forster on board, plus the most aggressive potato sack race ever put on film, you’ll get much more enjoyment than, say, watching televised fireworks scored to the Last House On the Left-like raping of John Philip Sousa’s legacy by high school marching bands. 

Fangoria Friday

Kane Hodder=Rock Star





The taller man is Jason VII-X's slightly larger brother, who seems equally awesome. Framed between is my lovely friend Erica, who wow'd the Bros. Voohrees with her eyes. I'm the squished little head on the right being lovingly squeezed by an arm that has once crunched through many a promiscuous teen.


Other events of note: buying too many movies (including, finally, the 2-disc Battle Royale (although the salesman didn't know if there was a question mark following the death of a certain female character, so I'm hoping I got the non-terribly subtitled version), a few movie posters (The Ewok Adventure II: The Battle For Endor--in Italian!!!), and some random gifts for those parts of the family that might appreciate them. I don't know if Fango is bigger in other locations, but the NYC Javitz Center was so large that it felt a tad empty. In a way, this made mingling a little easier, although I do feel for Guillermo Del Toro speaking to a quarter-filled room way too early on a Friday night. A few Last House on the Left cast members gave an enjoyable panel and Tom Savini did his usual moody Saviniscious convention kick (which involved playfully messing a little with Hodder's table then scooting away when a fan had to reload his camera).


I chatted a little with the lovely Robin Sherwood of Tourist Trap, the vocal George Kosana and John Russo, who both had their Night of the Living Dead trivia to impart (Kosana was quite insistent about taking credit for improvising Night's most famous line, "They're dead, they're all messed up"), and filmmaker David Gregory, whose new film Plague Town, will be reviewed here shortly.


The biggest tragedy of the weekend? I won't get to see Jack Ketchum's panel on Offspring due to other commitments. Should my cable guy come early on Sunday and not drag me to a drumstick feast at Medieval Times, I may flirt with the idea of a Sunday visit, but that's looking less and less likely (the Fangoria part; I'm still holding out for a Jim Carrey-esque adventure with Cablevision's installation crew). I do urge anyone in the area to check it out. Tickets are $20, and the floor was loose enough that you could wander and chat with a few notable names without feeling compelled to fork out another $20 for an autograph.


And if you do find your way to the way too clean basement on the West Side of Manhattan, tell Mr. & Mr. Hodder that the ladies with firm handshakes say hey. But do it in a sexy voice.