Sugar & Spice & Slaughter

Give a dame like me an evil child and you end up with one happy, happy dame. Give that happy happy dame an extra dose of William Katt and, well,

you get it.

Quick Plot: Jodi is a troubled 8-year-old who loves her toymaker daddy and little else. As you might guess, little Jody does not take kindly to anyone trying to get in between them. Considering Daddy is played by the luscious William Katt, you can almost understand her jealousy. 

No one is safe from Jody’s ire. Not her grandmother (Days of Our Lives matriarch Peggy McKay/Caroline Brady), who survives a near-Drano prune juice poisoning only to take a deadly tumble down the stairs. Not her social worker, who all-too-slowly starts to see the pattern of her Electra complex, and certainly not her mother's best friend/divorce attorney who happens to also be keen on lending advice that could drive Daddy away to a condo.

Jody doesn't quite have the charm of a Rhoda Penmark, but she's still a rather ridiculously over-the-top killer kid. With fire engine red hair that would make Chucky green with envy, little Gabrielle Boni gets to scrunch her face in fury and deliver stiff one-liners after each homicide with relish. It's a ridiculous performance from a ridiculous character in a ridiculous film. Naturally, I was thrilled.

Directed by Silent Night Deadly Night 5's Martin Kitrosser (more on that later), Daddy's Girl has the feel of a more daring Lifetime thriller. I can't seem to track down exactly what station it was made for (and IMDB doesn't give it the "TV Movie" tag, so it may have even been theatrical) but its quick 90 minute packaging leads me to believe this had to be seeking a televised audience, particularly since the violence doesn't come near a Bloody Birthday or Mikey. Even so, Daddy's Girl is a little meaner than your average No One Would Tell in just how relentless it goes about making its young antagonist. 

I am not complaining.

High Points

The score that plays over the opening credits might be the most aggressively ominous music to come out of the '90s. Bless you, Daddy's Girl

Low Points

I guess it would have been nice to have some actual resolution as to where the characters go from here, if you want to be all picky about it

Lessons Learned

Chekhov’s law of Drano states that anytime you start with a closeup of said plumbing product, you will most certainly have at least one attempted murder by said plumbing product

Murder is best rewarded with ice cream and soda

When parents get divorced, daddies move to Oregon

Director Trademark

Apparently, Martin Kitrosser is really interested in the men who design toys, at least if they're to be played by a savage Mickey Rooney or a smooth William Katt

Because You're Wondering...

First, the fantastic Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt made it impossible to drink Pinot Noir without breaking into song. Now I realize they've done the same with Daddy's Boy: The Musical. Damn you Tina Fey!

Rent/Bury/Buy

Daddy's Girl is exactly the kind of movie I look for when programming The Shortening, and thusly does it make a fine closing on another great year. Like many that have come before it, Daddy's Girl is fun, not good, ridiculous, not scary, and memorable for mostly the wrong reasons. 

It's a winner.

Needs More Katt

I seem to have bad luck with the House sequels.

See, you probably don’t know this, but quite a few months ago, I sat down to watch The Horror Show with the full intention of sharing my thoughts in this familiar place. I was even more enthused when I realized it was occasionally considered an in-name-only threequel to the bouncy William Kattastic House. 

(Random thought: the next installment should indeed be about a haunted bouncy house)

For whatever reason, I just couldn’t get a review written. I bumbled around a little bit, learned one lesson (“If a foot’s frying in one deep fryer, you can probably guess the rest of the parts are frying in another”) and decided to abandon ship, leaving Lance Henrikson and Michelle Pfeiffer’s less famous sister on their own.

Cut to a few months later when the horror comedy mood struck me hard enough to queue up the ACTUAL House sequel, a film that proves its pedigree by a) sharing its predecessor’s theme and b) also featuring a barfly from Cheers. Although House II: The Second Story (possible favorite subtitle ever) doesn’t actually connect to the original in terms of character, it is a little more official in terms of its franchise pedigree.

And once again, I feel incredibly apathetic writing about it.

Quick Plot: Our prologue introduces us to a married couple handing off their infant son to another while they return to their Victorian style home to confront what can only be described as a ghost cowboy looking for a crystal skull.

Already better than Indy 4

When the pair refuses him, our ghost cowboy shoots them both and sends us 25 years later to the rocking ‘80s present, where Jesse (Ellen’s Arye Gross) and his girlfriend Kate (the telepathic heroine of the seventh Friday the 13th) are now moving into the long-abandoned home. Before they even have a chance to find the nearest pizza delivery, their pals Charlie and pre-Problem Child Amy Yasbeck drunkenly drive on over to open up all sorts of house secrets, including the burial location of Jesse’s namesake and great grandpa.

Because alcohol generally makes us do really awesome things, Jesse and Charlie grab some shovels and exhume Gramps (played with the same bumpkin swagger as Royal Dano’s one year later role in Killer Klowns From Outer Space) in the hopes of finding the famed skull. Gramps turns out to be rather spry--if a bit crusty--and turns into the life of the Halloween party, stealing the show from a young Bill Maher. When a big beefy leotarded giant crashes the festivities to hijack the relic, Jesse and Charlie end up traversing the alternate dimensions hidden within the house.

Stop motion animated monsters wander, weird dino bird things squawk, and the cutest worm since Labyrinth barks its way around to help protect Gramps from the ghost cowboy he apparently killed a hundred years or so earlier. There’s also a random time warp into an Incan virgin sacrifice (maybe?), a blond being traded for another and back again, a whole lot of slapsticky skull dropping, and time travel.

You might say this is a busy film.

House II: The Second Story shares the same horror comedy vibe as its original, minus the whole PTSD Vietnam veteran angle and dead kid thing. In other words, it’s a little lighter. With its cartoon violence and colorful creatures, House II actually feels more in line with an episode of Pee-Wee’s Playhouse than The Evil Dead.

I should like House II, and I’m fairly certain that on another day, I just might. Like the original, it boasts a gleeful assortment of bizarrely fun practical monsters, plus an even goofier tone that just begs to be contagious. For whatever reason though, I found the antics somewhat tiresome. Most days, the sight of a prehistoric worm dog would make me smile. Today, I just yawned.

High Points

Prehistoric worm dog!

Aside from the prehistoric worm dog, House II’s best moments come courtesy of Cliff Clifton himself, John Ratzenberger playing the world’s most efficient electrician who also happens to have Michonne-like skills when fencing Incan spirits

Low Points

A gal can only watch so many interceptions via dinosaur of magical crystal skulls before she just stops caring

Lessons Learned

Even in the late 80s, car phones got no reception in haunted locations

Neither mummies nor baby pterodactyls make for a good excuse when caught getting friendly with your ex

‘Sir’ is a term reserved for politicians

All old folksy men played by Royal Dano in the late '80s had a lot of questions for tarnation

Rent/Bury/Buy

House II fits a very particular niche of ‘80s horror comedies, and by those terms, it’s a fun watch. I would certainly recommend fans of that era check this one out via Instant Watch, even if I seemed in this viewing to be immune to its considerable charms. I’ll chalk it up to the weather, because on a typical day, I fully endorse old grizzled zombie prospectors going on Abe Simpson-esque rants while being fueled by endless liquor. Maybe I’m the weirdo in this scenario.

KattHouse

House is one of those ‘80s VHS staples that nobody actually seems to remember. While few could forget those luscious mulleted curls exploding out of William Katt’s head, the movie itself always felt more relevant as a perennial fixture (along with its three sequels) on video store shelves. We all THOUGHT we saw it at one point in time, but did we care?

Quick Plot: William Golden God Katt plays Roger Corbett, a successful horror novelist stuck with writer’s block as he struggles to pen his memoirs of his dark secrets in Vietnam. Following the earlier death of his son and subsequent divorce from his primetime soap star wife, Roger moves into the mysterious (and titular) house of his aunt, a batty artist who hanged herself in the film’s prologue.

It doesn’t take long for gooey monsters to pop out of closets and mounted trophy swordfish to flop about-

-yes, just like Billy Bass

It's tough being a writer, as Roger now has to balance ghost hunting/tolerating with remembering his days of combat beside good old genre stalwart Richard Moll. Despite the amusing/annoying aide of nosy neighbor George Wendt, the misdirected flirtations of a sexy foreign neighbor, and the sympathy of his ex-wife, Roger can’t seem to catch a break.

House is a most definite horror comedy, a subgenre that can degrade faster than almost any other with the passage of time. Any comeror or horromedy (yeah, I’ll stop doing that) generally relies on the gameness of its cast and willingness of its audience to let loose and laugh at what, with the removal of a few musical cues or altered facial expressions, is expected to incite fear in another title. 

Does House work? Yes and no. Released in an age rife with haunted homes on camera (the Amityville series and Poltergeist were already sequels in), House has plenty of fun poking around at the squishy goblins and floating tools so identified with ‘80s suburban horror. The monster designs aren’t aiming for a Thing-like iconography, but there’s a great sense of personality about their look that finds a nice balance between the scary and silly. William Katt is one of those innately likable actors with a natural charisma that makes him easy to watch, an important factor since he’s in every scene of the film.

So what doesn’t work? Well, it’s not so much about what fails as much as it is what doesn’t go far enough. House is a tame film, one working hard for chuckles rather than laughs. Directed by Friday the 13th Parts 2 & 3 and Halloween: H20’s Steve Miner, it plays in the shallow end of the gorgeously kept inground pool without daring to cross the deeper territory of Evil Dead 2 or Dead Alive. That’s fine, as an attempt for all-out goofiness that fails can be painful for all involved. But ultimately, it makes House--which went on to slowly reap three sequel(ishe)s--fairly forgettable entertainment.

High Points

Even though he doesn’t get to have quite as much fun as I’d like to see, it’s always pleasant to see Richard Moll working in a film not tarnished by grain on a Mill Creek transfer

There’s a wonderful passing moment where Roger sits down to watch his wife’s Dynasty-like soap, a fine reminder of how great those storylines could be. Sample line of dialogue: “I can’t hide the fact that I’ve been a male prostitute for most of my life.” Can I watch THAT movie please?

Low Points

The tone is more than a bit confusing, especially when we consider the fact that there’s suicide, Vietnam trauma, and a dead child lurking around the peripheral of House’s main plotline

Lessons Learned

The best way to get over an ex you still harbor feelings for? Shoot a monster wearing its clothing

Solitude is always better with someone

When the sexy blond neighbor asks you if you like to play, she might indeed be referring to Chutes & Ladders or Hide ‘n Seek

Fashion Alert

Hey able-bodied men: whenever you’re ready, the world is welcoming of the sexy deep V-neck sweater to make its triumphant return

Rent/Bury/Buy

House is currently streaming on Netflix Instant, which makes it fine for a fluffy afternoon with the kids (minus the suicide and PTSD). It’s light, goofy, but not over the top comedy with the look of a horror film. Nostalgic ‘80s fans will certainly appreciate some of its references, while younger audiences may just find it on their level. Don’t ring the bell expecting to be scared, but do take comfort in knowing you’ll be staring at William Katt’s baby blue eyes for 90 minutes. 

To each her own.

Wait, you mean there are SNAKES on this 'Snake Island?'

Some people are simple-minded. Give them giant 3D robots or Paul Blart: Mall Cop and they’re happier than my cat Mookie sleeping inside a tiny box.

If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging with enthusiasm and pleasure.

What I’m getting at, you see, is that as much as I like to look down those who throw hard-earned cash on films that give me headaches or rashes, I’m someone who audibly squealed in joy when I discovered there was a movie called “Snake Island” streaming on Netflix.

Quick Plot: A gaggle of tourists embarks on a luxury vacation in Africa. Destination: Snake Island, a newly opened resort headed by the superbly named Jake Malloy (played by director Wayne Crawford). Sure, (deepen voice) Jake Malloy has a steamy late night sexy flick name and all, but we can’t call him the main attraction when William Katt’s on call! The blond heartthrob plays Malcolm Page, a famed novelist stuck on vacation with a pair of stiff British newlyweds, a smart and sex-ready lawyer named Heather, and a whole lot of hotel employees (the female type of which are really excited to get naked).

You should probably worry about your investments when your resort has more staff members than guests, but if you count the snakes, then there’s no vacancy whatsoever. 

Because by golly, thar be LOTS of snakes! Red ones, green ones, skinny ones and fat ones. Cobras, anacondas, lil squiggly ones and slytherines (that’s a type, right?). 

You might think ‘WOW! So many snakes! This is awesome!’ But we haven’t even gotten started. See, the snakes really display their charm during one of the stranger montages I’ve seen in recent times, one involving two topless women dancing with a slowly shirt unbuttoning William Katt while the polygamist employee chuckles, the lawyer gets it on in the water with (deep voice) Jake Malloy, and the portly snake-shooting assistant gets attacked by snakes...and then more snakes....and a few more snakes. So apparently, it’s either female nipples or the very threat of William Katt’s nipples that awaken the aggressiveness in the serpentine kingdom. 

You would think this is the high point of the film because frankly, when a scene involving dancing loose women, William Katt’s bare chest, water sex and a snake attack plays to techno music, WHAT ELSE COULD POSSIBLY BE BETTER? I was ready to turn Snake Island off at that point for fear of its next hour failing to POSSIBLY match that potential (witness Drive-Thru) but after a bunch of other snakings, something else wonderful happens. And it’s even better than snakes dancing to club music.

Because it’s a snake singing. SINGING! SNAKINGING! And making up his own lyrics as such:

“We hate people yes we do

As far as we’re concerned, 

They’re just something to ...

CHEW!”

Isn’t that ADORABLE? Positively Shel Silverstein in style! Sure, the snake throws in a token ‘bitch’ jibe just because snakes are known for being natural misogynists, but it’s still a singing snake and I’m still in love.

Then our lawyer with pleasant boobs and common sense (though not enough to not sleep with the rather daft Jake Malloy) wakes up and the snake stops singing and I start being sad.

There’s a climax, and it involves snakes. Lots of snakes. Because in case you haven’t caught on, there are about as much snakes in Snake Island as there were chains in Chain Letter. 

That epiphany suddenly seems like the most important discovery since a stoner listened to Dark Side of the Moon while his grandmother watched The Wizard of Oz.

High Points

Sometimes they’re rubber and sometimes they’re made from computer pixels, but for much of Snake Island’s big snake scenes, we’re treated to living and slithering genuine snakes, the kind that make the ASPCA visit the set to ensure their safety if the producers want a disclaimer in their credits. Neato.

Low Points

It’s more a personal pet peeve than actual detriment of the film, but I simply despise people who take a bite of something mysterious, savor its deliciousness, then spit it out in disgust when they discover it’s something as odious as snake. Really lady, I’m sure you’ve had eel stuffed in your sushi. What’s the difference?

Lessons Learned

In Africa, things bite

Having five wives makes you an expert on all things women-related

Resort employees have a wonderfully audience-convenient habit of talking to themselves in great detail

African blonds get incredibly offended when no one will sleep with them. They also dress in the kind of Sexy Policewoman costumes generally reserved for Halloween stores or adult shops

Repeated Phrase of the Philm

A drinking game could easily made to coincide with how many times a character utters the disclaimer “I’m not an expert in ______, but...” Fill-ins include snakes and malaria, though I imagine one could easily find in the deleted scenes a montage of characters substituting the following at different points in the film:

running a hotel

tying knots

snake dance styles

montages

Rent/Bury/Buy

Look, I’m not saying Snake Island is any any possible way a good movie, but heck, it’s set on an island and it has a lot of snakes. And they kill. And they’re colorful. And occasionally, they sing and dance. And then kill. 

What else have you done in life?