Post Christmas Blues Get Better With Action (& Cop Dog)

Sure, decorations may be half priced and Santa still nursing that milk hangover, but just because it's December 28th is no reason to believe Christmas is over! To keep that yule log crackling--and to postpone the inevitable impossible decision I face in crowning a winner or two for the Infinite Giveaway Contest Extraordinaire, allow me to direct you to an audio stocking stuffer. Over at the Action Attraction Podcast, host with the most Metal Mikey has been hard at work throwing Skype parties with such main courses as Masters of the Universe and Die Harder for his guests to ravage like a bag of chestnuts. I saved my ravaging for the best:

You know it. On the latest episode, you can hear Mikey, Silva & Gold's one and only Doctor Zom, and myself discuss the 1996 Christmas classic, Santa With Muscles, a forgotten cubic zirconium starring after-his-heyday Hulk Hogan, before-her-Black-Swanning Mila Kunis, post-Chocolate-Chip-Charlie Garrett Morris, The Most Annoying Child Actress of All Time Who Eventually Had a Line In The Muppets, and When Is He NOT In His Prime? Clint Howard, all directed by Jim "Cop Dog" Murlowski. The movie is fairly--SPOILER ALERT--awful, but our 2+ hour conversation does cover rarely touched topics including:

-Hidden head cheese secrets of Hair Club For Men

-Kuma the God, aka star of Cop Dog

-Lasers

-What pumpkin ice cream and Clint Howard's semen have in common

And believe me, all are far more horrifying than you can possibly imagine. Head to iTunes or visit this link for a very merry Christmas indeed!

Or just go watch Cop Dog.

Your choice.

See No Eye Scream

Much like office settings or Halloween, it often shocks me to realize how little the seemingly natural marriage of professional wrestling and horror cinema occurs. There's a built-in fan-base eager for the crossover, big burly men that make perfect villains or believable foes, merchandising opportunities from restaurants to Barbie's boyfriends, and the added convenience of getting actors/stunt men/fight choreographers at one relatively low price.

For these reasons, I’m sure today’s Doll’s House special was heralded as a brilliant idea back in 2006. Take a successful human franchise (in this case, WWE star Kane), give him a dark backstory and killing gimmick (eyeball plucking), toss in some pretty and/or annoying victims (all with vaguely disguised Australian accents) dirty up a pristine warehouse, turn on your computer, insert CGI effects and metal music, and BAM! Movie!

Kinda.

Quick Plot: A pair of beat cops enter a dingy home to discover an eyeless woman screaming for help. Because "there's NO TIME!" to call for backup, one of them gets axed, while the other gets his arm axed but also manages to blow a hole in the axist's head. I call that an even trade.

Flash forward four years, where the one-armed axee is now peeing in a toilet bowl (the movie thinks this is important, so I'm passing it on) and working as a mentor to troubled youths. On this sunny weekend during which the film takes place, mentoring troubled youths means busing a batch of attractive juvenile delinquents to an abandoned hotel, where they're assigned to clean the place up in order to transform it into a homeless shelter. On hand to help is a creepy old lady whose creepiness means nothing at all, right?

Eh, who needs to suspect anything about the creepy old lady when it's coed juvenile delinquent party time! You think I'm kidding, don't you? 

Nah-uhhhhh. When you’ve got a “tofu-munching ass” lab dog liberator, a blond brat just asking to have her own cell phone stuffed down her throat, a money obsessed fast-talker with his Seventh Deadly Sin practically tattooed on his dollar bill eyeballs, you know a creative killer will have fun. All the youngins--these plus a few bland more who barely register, except when dead--are introduced, in true lazy filmmaking form, with some superimposed text to explain their rap sheet. It’d be nice if these crimes--which range from assault to possession--actually built these kids as a force to be reckoned with. Sadly, much like the mark-missing Battle Royale II, the idea of teenage rebels never progresses beyond them giving dirty looks to authority figures. Really, they’re just a bunch of pretty twentysomethings playing mildly troubled high schoolers who deserve to have their eyes plucked out, if only for being dull.

And pluck they do! See, See No Evil--originally titled the much more hilarious Eye Scream Man--is about not seeing evil, and the best way to do that is pop out eyeballs. As a young boy, Kane--Jacob Goonight, but let’s just call him Kane, since the movie never says Jacob and the name ‘Jacob Goodnight’ is almost as stupid as the Eye Scream Man--was raised by a crazy Christian mom who would abuse him for doing such evil things as masturbating. Yes, we get to see that, though (sorry boys) no female nudity despite the fact this was directed by Gregory The Devil In Miss Jones Parts 3 to 5 Dark. As a result, Kane naturally grows up to pluck out people’s eyeballs. Unless they have religious tattoos. Then they’re cool. And worth masturbating to.

Because if there's one thing a film starring a WWE actor with a huge fanbase needs, it's an awkward masturbation scene. I think we can safely assume the lack of this explains why No Holds Barred was not the biggest blockbuster of 1989.

Or maybe not.

Debuting in 2006, See No Evil is a clear Lions Gate leftover born in the heyday of Saw, when seemingly all one needed to make a financially successful horror film was an artificially dingy house, fast editing, loud metal music, and a few gross-out scenes showing the after-violence carnage. Now I've spent many a day defending the Saw franchise as being a little more intelligent than most filmgoers estimate, but its ripoffs (I see you, Nine Dead and Are You Scared) are generally less justifiable. With See No Evil, it's quite clear that you had a studio crafting a project around a hopeful horror star but never stepping back to think about exactly what it was doing. Kane can obviously be a scary dude, but saddle him with a Leatherface-lite backstory whose biggest threat is a one-armed middle aged retired beat cop and it's hard to take him seriously. 

Then again, this is a professional wrestler who previously entered the ring as a Christmas tree and disgruntled dentist, so things could definitely have been worse.

High Points

The DVD for See No Evil is loaded with special features, but most importantly, it opens with a trailer for William Friedken’s incredibly disturbing and painfully underrated Bug. So that’s a good thing

I won’t spoil it here, but one of the first major death scenes offers a nice surprise

Low Points

I had absolutely no idea that Kane was anywhere near 7' tall while watching See No Evil. This in itself should tell you how skillful the film is at making a ready-made force of intimidation not scary in the least. 

SPOILER!

Three survivors? THREE SURVIVORS? What is this, Resident Evil 2?

Lessons Learned

It’s perfectly acceptable for violent juvenile delinquents to carry razors and apparently, very expensive shampoo. On the other hand, it’s not acceptable at all for juvies to carry condoms because--wait, don’t we want our teenagers to know about and possibly carry condoms? I’m confused

When describing a killer to a cop, be sure to list his size, whether he has a chain, and if there's a hole inside of his head. Most law enforcement employees will nail that one on the first try

Accepting a marriage proposal is the first step towards having your eyeballs ripped out in an elevator

Kane’s Laws

Taser me once, shame on me. Taser me twice and I’ll crush you with a safe

IMDB Con of the Day

According to everyone’s most informative (but worst commented on) website, actor Steve Vidler was on 19 episodes of Jeopardy. Initially, I was impressed as I naturally would be with anyone who won 18 episodes of my favorite gameshow. Turns out Jeopardy without an exclamation point is just some British TV show called Jeopardy. What a bummer

Credits Curiosity

Following the incredible post-credits-tag (wherein a stray dog stops by to pee inside Kane's empty eye socket, and no, I didn't make that up), there was no way I was going to stop See No Evil until the final best boy had been acknowledged, just in case there was ANYTHING else to miss. As a result, I had the occasionally entertaining opportunity to observe some of the other people involved in making the film, including Art Department: Tim Allen. Now I’m sure—mostly—this had nothing to do with Tim the Tool Man Taylor, but don’t you dream that it did?

Award of Ubiquity

Also known as the 2009 Jude Law Jam or 2011 Jessica Chastain Takeover, this honor goes to actor Michael J. Pagan for appearing as "The Black Guy" in no less than three--this, Chain Letter, and House of Fears--films reviewed this fall here at the Doll's House. I'm not sure who in our relationship is stalking whom, but I'm pointing it out first, making me the not-creepy one

Rent/Bodyslam/Buy

See No Evil is not a good or scary or so bad it's scarily good movie, but it's also not quite as atrocious as I was hoping expecting. Fans of mid-aught horror (there aren't many I know of) will find it perfectly passable, while trash connoisseurs will enjoy the scraps of camp (including the best credit capper ever). The DVD is almost embarrassingly loaded with extras, including two commentary tracks and a batch of mini-making of featurettes. Kane’s commentary (along with a producer) is oozing with manically enthusiastic tidbits, including compliments on some of the younger actors’ chokehold skills and a far less excitable comment about how they invited him out for beers but “That never happened...” This doesn’t come off as creepy or menacing--despite ANOTHER featurette where the younger actors were clearly instructed to pretend Kane was actually scary on set--but more awkward than anything else, like they gave him the wrong meetup address and then didn’t feel that bad about it the next day.

Oh well. At least the stray dog didn't chew off his testicles before peeing in his empty eye socket, as the script originally had planned. I'm sure Kane is thankful for that.

I Said Brrrrr! It's Cold In Here. There Must Be Some Chiller Theatre In the Atmosphere

No, I shouldn't even try a fake cheer. Just know that this past weekend was the biannual Chiller Theatre Convention in New Jersey so naturally, I put on my best pair of sneakers to troll crowded vendor floors and tiptoe around celebrities I wanted to ogle without paying.


This installment was by far one of my favorite experiences, and only part of that involved the toasted coconut pancakes eaten twenty minutes before entering the elegant halls of the Parsippany Hilton. Highlights, plain and simple:

1. Telling Ruggero Deodato that I loved The Barbarians, and hearing his enthusiastic response that the film is finally going to be available on DVD in the near future. Also, I think I referred to Cannibal Holocaust as "beautiful." Thankfully, he did not respond by offering me turtle meat.

2. Telling his table buddy Sergio Martino that I loved Hands of Steel  (I'm sure he gets that ALL the time) and finding out that his next film is supposed to shoot somewhere in Pennsylvania. For some reason, that disturbed me.

3. Buying these:

One of which stars a wrestler from G.L.O.W. (Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling, for those uninformed), one of which is post-apocalyptic and involves rollerskating, and finally, a film I can't believe I didn't know existed, The Refrigerator, something I'm sure will put Death Bed: The Bed That Eats to the napping hall of shame.


4. Having a strange interaction with Lou Ferrigno (at the urging of Dear Friends Erica and Lisa) where we got a Polaroid photo (taken by a stranger just wandering the room) with the Hulk then spent about 20 minutes trying to decipher what he actually signed. Theories include "Lou the Hulk," "Love the Hulk," "Lou something Hulk," and "Lou Diamond Philips." Either way, I got to tell him that I loved his work in ...And God Spoke, and he smiled.

5. The highlight, by far:

Now obviously, Killer Klowns From Outer Space is in the treasure chest here at the Doll's House so the idea of meeting Grant Cramer (aka Mike Tobacco) evoked all sorts of inner swoons. What really creamed my pie, however, was how gosh darn nice a dude he was. This was apparently Mr. Cramer's first convention outing, and he seemed to be having an enjoyable time, or at least he tolerated my gushing, theorizing, and explanation of why Killer Klowns and The Happening should never share the same sentence. Best of all, my head nearly exploded when I learned that the Chiodo Brothers and Mr. Cramer have been developing a--hold your breath--SEQUEL to what is, quite simply, the definitive cult film of my generation. It seems a ways off but something that actually may indeed hopefully maybe yes indeed I hope I said I hope will get made someday. Sadly, it's not based on my idea for Klowns In Space , but hey, after 22 and counting years, I'll take anything.

So that was my lovely Sunday, capped by the debut recording of a lil cupcake called the gleeKast . Looking forward, I now order you to mark your calendars for the August 20-22, when Monster Mania mashes into Cherry Hill, New Jersey, and I attempt to befriend special guest Tim Curry via my own reenactment of the entire plot of Clue.

Hippity Hoppity Homicide

Controversial, religious, or rainy, Easter weekend is more than just an excuse to gorge yourself on Cadbury Creme Eggs. Namely, it’s a time to watch seasonal horror movies! A few recommendations:

Critters 2: The Main Course

One of the few genre films specifically set during Easter and for a very good reason: critters hatch from eggs, and what better way to feast upon an idyllic small town than by Trojan horse-plowing your way into the homes and baskets of tasty locals?

Jesus Christ: Vampire Hunter

And on the third day, Jesus rose...to kick some undead ass. According to this affectionally campy musical/action/horror/wrestling romp, Christ will sing, dance, and spin kick through sunglass-wearing gangs of blood drinkers, especially if the monsters are on the prowl to purge the world of its lesbian population. It’s as silly as its title suggests (note that I haven’t even mentioned the luchador sidekick or voice-of-god speaking through an ice cream sundae) but this low budget oddity is a surprisingly good time and way more fun than Sunday mass.

Night of the Lepus

I often take issues with fear snobs sneering at the threat of killer dolls, but I’ll confidently eat my Easter bonnet to say bunnies are not, never were, and can never be scary. Perhaps the best proof is offered in this infamous flop(fy eared) 1972 monster flick, in which giant rabbits wreak havoc on mankind and Janet Leigh. It’s adorable.

Fear No Evil


I usually recommend this 1981 entry into the antichrist subgenre for its see-it-to-believe-it death by dodgeball, but to be timely, we could also cite the subplot passion play for the perfect Easter Sunday (or Good Friday) viewing. A smiling actor playing an actor playing Jesus (and fittingly voiced by the director in one of the best cameos since Hitchcock) gets more than church community adoration when Satan’s teenage son accepts his legacy at the town’s annual celebration. Needless to say, next time you subject yourself to theatrical crucifixion, it’s best to ask for a stunt double.

Black Sheep

Zombies moan. Body snatchers shriek. Asian ghost girls make strange clicking sounds. But only genetically altered New Zealand lambs bleat, as this 2006 horror comedy proudly proves. While I’ve always been a tad reluctant to chow down on the lamb chops my grandmother made on Easter (particularly when cardboard sheep were smiling in decoration form around the kitchen), the man-eating mammals here remove any guilt I have dishing out seconds.

Fatal Attraction

In keeping with the theme, one could easily argue that Glen Close’s golden perm bears a striking resemblance to Lampchop herself. Plus, a bunny stew served by an obsessive murderess is the perfect Easter dinner, particularly for psychopaths in need of solid protein for another night of stalking.

Arachnophobia

Okay, so there’s no Mega Spider vs. Giant Bunny action here, but the main threat in this likable 1990 creature features is a nest of hidden eggs. What’s more festive than that?

Did I pass over any of your favorites? (See what I did there, Pass-ov--never mind) . Bad punning or not, add or your own and have a great Peeps-At-Half-Price Monday!

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Jewish Saint

We’re told a lot of lies in our youth. The ice cream truck is empty. Long division is important. Sparky moved to the farm.  Worst of all is the master conspiracy that is Santa Claus. It’s bad enough that children are forced to live in constant fear of an all-knowing magician obsessed with judging their character, only to eventually discover (often at the cruel insensitivity of cooler kids on the playground) that such an entity is a mere illusion created to separate the gullible geeks from the faster developed in-crowd.

But let’s just say there really is a portly gentleman who spends one night a year breaking into billions of homes to deposit a few new toys and eat lots of sugar cookies. How does HE feel about his image being encapsulated in snowglobes, having his name tossed about in lazy lyrics or receiving constant junk mail written in crayon? 

For a new spin on the 2000 year old holiday, there’s Santa’s Slay, a black comedy directed by newcomer David Steiman,  the former long-suffering personal assistant to Brett Ratner (I don’t know he actually suffered; I’m just going with conventional wisdom that Ratner is kind of a drag). Starring proudly Jewish WWE champ Bill Goldberg, this 2005 horror features plenty of pile drives and Nutcracker antics for the whole family, especially if you like your family well enough, but don’t want to spoil them with something overly wonderful.

Quick Plot: We open with a star-studded Christmas dinner for two wealthy families, connected perhaps by an affair or, more likely, the amount of famous names Steiman could assemble in one room for a day of shooting. Don’t get too attached to Rebecca Gayheart, Fran Drescher, Chris Kattan (because of course, you were totally in danger of that) and James Caan (yes, James Caan), as they all receive festive slayings within five minutes.

We’re soon introduced to our young teen protagonists, Nicholas Yuleson (get it? of course you do. Cause you’re not an idiot) and Mary (Lost’s Emilie de Ravin), employees of the world’s friendliest kosher butcher’s shop. Nicholas has lived his short life sans Christmas spirit, mostly because his wacky old grandpa knows the truth behind December 25th. See, back in ye olden days, Santa (Goldberg) was pretty much a jerk, possibly because he had to share his immaculately concepted birthday with golden boy Jesus Christ. Fed up with watching the grizzly sadist slice his way through innocent humans, a kindly angel wagered Santa 1000 years of hellish torment (i.e., burning in Satan’s estate or delivering joy across the world) to be decided in a friendly match of curling.

As any Miracle on 34th St. shopper might deduce, Santa’s curling could have used some coaching. 2005, however, marks the end of his losing conditions and thus, it’s time for the big guy to ride into Hell Township on his one-bison sleigh and celebrate his newfound freedom with a massacre in a strip joint possibly co-owned by Rob Zombie. Ornaments impale, wreaths strangle, pomeranians are hurled into ceiling fans and 80s style street punks die at the pointy ends of candy canes. 

Santa’s Slay is a fun film built on a pile of regifted presents and best enjoyed with store brand eggnog. Watching Santa Claus use ring-worthy moves on burly bouncers and electrocute bartenders with a stripper’s pole is exactly as amusing as it sounds. While no actor is gunning for a Golden Globe, the performances are good-natured and well-aware of how best to deliver the material...

...which is by far the weakest part of Santa’s Slay. While some lines land with clever holiday cheer, there are a lot more that thud loudly without sharp nuance. It doesn’t mean Santa’s Slay isn’t funny; it’s just not quite as funny as it would like to be and for those such as myself who are deeply annoyed by forced comedy, Santa’s Slay toes a thin line between naughty and nice. 

High Points

While not overly memorable, the score is quite a pleasing mashup of well-known carols, humorously modern Santa jingles, and touches of ambition, such as the one measure nod to Fiddler On the Roof cued as a group of Hasidic Jews pass by

A well-placed stop-motion animated flashback to the origin of “good” St. Nick is wonderfully reminiscent of classic Rankin/Bass specials of yore, straight down to the Cornelius Vanderbilt expression on Santa Claus’s face

Low Points

Sorry Mr. Steiman, but contrary to your commentary track, old people swearing and fart jokes are not necessarily always funny by themselves

While I loved the over-the-top insanity of the opening scene, why, why I ask with fists raised to the sky, did Chris Kattan receive the least offensive death?

Although there are plenty of memorable one liners (see below for my favorite), some of the dialogue is just one draft short of snapping. Example: “I’m as happy as a Make-a-Wish kid,” our hero says upon receiving a pretty kickass pistol Transformer. If you think about it, a Make-a-Wish kid isn’t actually happy. He/she is probably in a lot of pain until a wish is actually granted. Edit: “I’m happier than a Make-a-WIsh kid cutting the line to Space Mountain.” A mere reference isn’t funny in itself. It requires honing.

Lessons Learned

Santa Claus and Jesus Christ are birthday buddies

Jewish butchers are closed on Christmas but like to hang out in their shops to make sure people know that

If you live in hell, you shouldn’t use the lord’s name in vain so indiscriminately 

In the 364 days he’s unemployed, Santa Claus spends his time working out and studying the Crypt Keeper's how-to book on the art of punning 

The going rate for a rocket launcher in 2005 was one lung

Winning Line

“Christmas can sure scare the Dickens out of people!”

Funny because a) it’s shouted with such enthusiasm by a WWE champion and b) he’s holding a copy of A Christmas Carol as he says this

Rent/Bury/Buy

Having now watched three homicidal Santa Claus cut their way through the naughty in the last week, my rosy cheeked glee at watching carolers scream in fear is beginning to pale. Still Santa’s Slay is, much like ThanksKilling, a film that understands why holiday horror is such a beloved seasonal tradition. It’s a bit of a mess made by someone still learning the trade, but there is a lot of wackiness to give you a pleasantly offbeat 90 minutes. By no means is this a new classic along the lines of Jack Frost (yes, I’m aware that I’ve just called the mutant killer snowman movie a “classic”), but it’s enjoyable enough to get you through an evening of gift wrapping. You could certainly do better than stale writing and multiple uses of foul-mouthed senior citizenry, but hearing Bill Goldberg try to deliver a monologue in medieval Nordic is something many a connoisseur of cheese can enjoy.