God Told Me To Tell You To See This Movie

Few things are more frightening than everyday people committing heinous acts of violence. It's part of why I recently found myself explaining how haunting Gus Van Sant's Elephant is. For 90 minutes, you meander through high school walls and eavesdrop on its 'real life' teenaged conversations. Then, right between the afternoon sun and the lunch bell, a pair of 16 year olds march inside and open fire on everyone from the head cheerleader to the shy library aide. Yes, it's disturbing for being so close to the actual Columbine massacre, but it's also the non-Hollywood look and sound of amateur actors role playing a situation that hardly seems forced.


The great Larry Cohen's God Told Me To begins with a scene of almost documentary-esque violence, setting viewers up in a recognizable universe where general rules of safety and conduct are no longer guaranteed. For the first half or so, this is the terrifying environment we find ourselves in. Once plot points are revealed, Cohen takes us in an equally interesting, if slightly less primal place. The end result is memorable and will make you think; the opening is unsettling and will give you nightmares.


Quick Plot: A typical workday in NYC comes to a bloody halt when a rifleman perched on a water tower starts gunning down passing strangers. Detective Peter Nicholas (Tony Lo Bianco) attempts to talk the shooter down face to face. Not surprisingly, he’s unsuccessful, but this strict Catholic cop does get an answer when he inquires about the motive: “God told me to.”

Later that week, Manhattan preps itself for the annual beerfest--I mean, St. Patrick’s Day Parade. A phoned warning hints that one of NY’s own Finest will open fire on 5th Avenue, but being as “The Irish have waited all year for this!”, the march continues and none other than a fresh-faced Andy Kaufman in uniform goes postal before the world knew what city employees were capable of. Dying words? See title.

To continue with a plot description leads me into dangerously spoiler filled terrain I dare not enter. There’s a lot of directions you’d expect this film to take, but I’m fairly certain most viewers will be surprised by where God Told Me To goes and how it gets there. Cohen wisely grounds his story in Lo Bianco’s Catholic detective, a Catholic struggling with his own decisions who ends up on a journey far more terrifying and weird than one would expect.


God Told Me To is not an explicit horror film along the lines of It’s Alive, nor is it a fluffier piece of satirical insanity like the Dolls House favorite The Stuff. This early Cohen piece has, not surprisingly, its own unique mood aided by the gritty beauty of NYC in its glorious gritty 70sness. The action, however, is hardly limited to 42nd St sleaze. I'm biting my tongue to not give away the force behind the lordly commands, but let's just say it's transcends the Tri-State area in ways only a restrained Larry Cohen could conjure.

High Points
An early scene wherein a murderous father calmly explains how and why he slaughtered his family is one of the most quietly disturbing monolgues I’ve heard on film

Likewise, Sylvia Sydney turns in a strong one-scene performance that succeeds in revealing a surprising, potentially laughable plot point and making it into something sad and scary


The relationship between Pete's two loves plays out in an intriguing and honest way, avoiding the cliches we'd expect from a mistress/ex-wife meetup. Their discussion is well-acted and reveals a few more chilling details


Low Points
Perhaps there’s a better DVD out there (more about that later), but much of the dialogue was muffled. This was especially frustrating since my Netflix’d copy lacked any subtitles


I imagine the low budget had some say here, but it would have been nice to get a liitle more of how the rash of killings were affecting the city of New York


Just as it’s hard to watch any John Carpenter movie and not wish for a dose of Kurt Russell, any Cohen flick without the weirdly charismatic presence of Michael Moriarity also feels a tad incomplete

Lessons Learned
Never let your son hang out with a dirty long-haired hippie...particularly if said bad influence possesses an angelic glow and oddly placed vaginal opening


It’s easy to sweet talk a nun


Speaking to God will make you rapidly age ten years before your 22nd birthday; other side effects include going on a killing spree

When a man calls in a serious terrorism threat and begins his warning with “Don’t ask who I am,” the first thing you should not do is ask who’s speaking


Never date a married Catholic. Soooooo much guilt there


Rent/Bury/Buy
Like most of Larry Cohen’s work, God Told Me To is rich in ideas and a little less wealthy in execution. Still, the central themes about faith and free will combined with fairly wacky (yet somehow very grounded) story twists overcome some of the awkward plotting and low budget restraints. The performances are top notch all around and most of the early scenes are truly frightening in how they depict random violence hitting everyday urbanites.


A note on the DVD: It seems as though there are a few versions of this film floating about on those fragile little discs, and should you purchase this film (which you should), be sure to get the right release. My Netflix edition was disappointingly bare bones and the transfer was messy and muddled. Look for the Blue Underground edition which features a Cohen/Bill Lustig commentary (yes, that is the team that gave us the sadly inferior, yet gleefully patriotic Uncle Sam). Be sure to tell ‘em God sent ya.

The Good Daughter

I love the taste of liquid butter when accompanied with a fresh theatrical horror release and for that reason and several others, I heart Jaume Collet-Serra’s Orphan.


You’ve seen the posters. Maybe read some wildly mixed reviews, which range from a glowing 3.5 Ebert enhanced stars to The New York Times’ raging dismissal. Now just see the movie


...after reading this:


Quick Plot: Well-off Connecticut couple Kate (Vera Farmiga) and John (Peter Sarsgaard) are trying to recover from a few more-than-unpleasant recent events: the stillborn birth of their third child, the near drowning of young daughter Max, and the unsteady acknowledgment of Kate’s alcoholism (“I didn’t go to AA. I just stopped drinking.”). Naturally, they’re in the perfect position to adopt a child.

The lucky orphaness is none other than Esther, a well-spoken and well-dressed (for the Victorian era) Russian lass who survived a mysterious house fire that not suspiciously took the rest of her family. A talented little artist, Esther charms her new dad with paintings that would totally kick the skinny hipster ass of Ethan Hawke’s tortured Great Expectations hack while quickly bonding with Max by learning the complete sign language dictionary in the time it takes eat a fun-sized Milky Way.


Life would be fine and fairy tale happy if, you know, this wasn’t a horror film. Thankfully, Orphan has plenty of tension to build thanks a good deal in part to Farmiga’s Kate. You might recognize her as the token what-do-I-do-with-her female in Scorcesse’s overrated The Departed (a good film, but more a cheap attempt to apologize for snubbing Goodfellas than a Best Picture and Director earner). Here, Farmiga creates a completely believable and complicated woman. Sarsgaard is somewhat burdened with the doofier role, but in their shared scenes, these two create a realistic married couple who love one another, but must at times deal with personal distrust and the fact that they both simply love their children more.

It’s not that Orphan is revolutionary in its approach to the bad seed formula. If anything, there are certain set pieces that just scream to be used in the final act and leave you little surprised at their execution. At the same time, Orphan is richer than Esther’s velvety choker when it comes to tossing in some shockingly bizarre oh-no-they-didn’t moments. Most importantly, the entire cast equips itself with full dedication in bringing to life a nice enough family and the incredibly evil presence about to invade it.

I wasn’t entirely sold on the film’s resolution, but for two hours, I was amused, a little disturbed, a moment or two frightened, and entirely entertained.


High Points
Young Aryanna Engineer is both angelic and sympathetically real as Max, the sweet but far too trusting little sister-to-be

Orphan’s opening sequence is unsettling in more ways than one; yes, there’s the whole scary childbirthing blood, but it’s the Freudian role play that makes it work on a deeper level. I’ve never given birth, but I imagine that during such an experience, I too would cast the father of my outcoming fetus in a rather villainous role


Farmiga gives Kate her all throughout the film, but my personal favorite moment of her performance comes the morning after Esther causes a slight coitus interruptus. The hopeful look on Farmiga’s face after her clearly rehearsed explanation of what sex means to adults is pitch perfect

Low Points
There’s a whole lot of predictability throughout Orphan, which definitely whittles down its scare factor by a bit


I get that the film is trying to hold onto bloodthirsty viewers during its non-violent middle chunk, but quick cut jump scares involving bathroom mirrors feel far too forced


Lessons Learned
Fantastical treehouses that could only exist in cinema and television (just how did Bart or Homer build such a sturdy little cabin anyway?) are as flammable as they are impressive

Snorphan jokes are funny, but a tad tasteless when said on the way to adopting a child


Setting a film in winter will automatically earn it bonus points because peacoats, precariously iced over ponds, and clumsy gloves are naturally good scare factors

Connecticut cops are not prompt


See/Skip/Sneak Into
Skip two days of iced cappuccinos and see this movie. Not only does it deliver $10 worth of entertainment ($12.50 if you reside in that darned NYC) but enough fans paying for original horror sends a positive message to creativity-challenged studios about what we really want.


My motives for seeing Orphan were in no small part due to one Mr. Matt-suzaka, whose thoroughly splendiforous new blog featured a truly inspiring horror call to arms, which is not to go unread or unheeded. His post actually forced my Merrill sneakers to hit the subway and see what indeed was wrong with Esther, and for that I’m quite thankful.

Hot Child In the Cinema

Sure, we know that Angela Baker and Jason Voorhees are eternally guarding the sleepaway camp gates, but what about all the other joys of summer? Here’s a roundup of other treats to be enjoyed between June and September, which the Farmer’s Almanac constantly rates as the peak time of year to slaughter young people in cinematic ways. 

Tanning

I’m the kind of pasty white woman who spends an extra $1.50 to raise my SPF to 50, so the very idea of laying encased in an electrified tomb simply to get a little brown is horrifying in itself. Hence, I'll always appreciate the most ingenious death scene of Final Destination 3, in which two sweetly bubblegum airheads meet their end via a poorly designed tanning salon. Plus, it incorporates another staple of July, Slurpee-ish drinks! Double death, double points. 

Carnivals

There’s something incredibly joyful about riding a temporary feris wheel operated by a toothless nomad trying desperately to flirt with underage locals.  Of course, it’s even more fun when such an evening involves homicide. Tobe Hooper’s 1981 The Funhouse is an excellent little slasher that utilizes its carnival setting to kill a few disrespectful teens. That’s right kids: no matter how tempting it may be, spending a night inside a temporary amusement park will run you the risk of being hanged, raped, or mocked by an animatronic fat lady. 

Lazy Days

In between camp and softball practice, my childhood summer was generally spent in a pool, in front of a VCR, or on a bike pretending to sniff out an exciting adventure that often involved Ewoks. Maybe that’s because I grew up in a kinder, simpler time where kids could be kids...as opposed to the sadistic era of poodle skirts, jukeboxes, and Jack Ketchum’s novel turned film, The Girl Next Door. Instead of playing stickball or hiking across town to view a corpse like normal kids, these young Americans of prefer kinky tag, drinking cheap beer with mom, and sexually violating the new girl in town. Sure, they occasionally celebrate hot weather with an ice pop or betting on red vs. black ant wars, but this is one neighborhood that needs to hall its delinquents to the teenage wasteland of  Sleepaway Camp III.

School’s Out

As Tiny Tim once said, the true meaning of summer is not having to go to school. Sadly this thrill wears away when you join the typical workforce, but thankfully, we’ll always have horror films that cast well-past-graduation aged actors as horny teenagers without a care in the world come June. The soon-to-finally-be-released-and-seen-by-every-American-horror-fan-complaining-about-the-lack-of-good-original-movies All the Boys Love Mandy Lane captures this hedonistic innocence by driving a group of pretty high school juniors to a sprawling ranch for a start-of-summer party. Once there, the boys plot to woo the titular beauty while the girls judge each others’ appearances and ...well, I’ll say no more for fear of spoilage. But lots of stuff happens, none of which involves friendship circles or marshmallows.

Ring Ring

What’s that sound? A mobile merry-go-round? A really loud music box? \nGoodness no! It’s the Good Humor Man! Or the creepy, inexplicably living creature with a head that somehow stays solid under the summer sun, Mr. Softee! Or--wait. This guy looks different. A little short. A tad ratty. Familiar in a character actor sort of way. \n\nBecause, of course, it’s none other than Clint Howard playing the world’s most evil purveyor of dairy delights. Sure, Masters of Horror’s We All Scream For Ice Cream gave this summer staple a nice follow up, but it’s the lesser Howard Brother’s star turn that truly made ice cream trucks vehicles to fear. Or find mildly revolting and extremely hilarious. Either way, this is the film that clinched Howard’s MTV Lifetime Achievement Award, so you know it has to be brilliant. And it is.

I’m skipping the beach because a) I burn easily and b) I simply refuse to mention the most mentioned summer horror classic in this column. Oh fine: Jaws IV: The Revenge is by far the best film to ever unit sand, sharks, and Mario Von Peebles. Happy now?

More To Love

A few weeks back, I devoted some Pop Syndicate time to lamenting the lack of obesity themed horror films floating out there in the slim, space conscious world of DVDs. Thankfully, I received the perfect recommendation and promptly added Brett Leonard's 2005 Feed to my queue.


Feed is a frustating and daring film that raises far more questions than it has the patience or attention span to answer. That being said, it's ambitious, original, and as rich in black humor as it is in plot messiness and Red Bull spiked with Pixie Stix-fueled editing choices.


Quick Plot: Aussie detective Philip Jackson (Patrick Thompson) specializes in catching sexual predators lurking about that back alley otherwise known as the Internet. Coming off a successful ripped-from-the-headlines self-cannibalism case in Germany, his next endeavor is to delve into the sugar-coated, high carb world of feeders and gainers. A few Google searches and heavily edited closeups of alternative porn and keyboard dancing later, Philip is narrowing his eyes at a tattooed and trim American fattening up a 600+ pound woman who gleefully smiles for the camera with crumbs on her third chin.

International police tactics are abused as Philip battles jet lag, fast cuts, and an obnoxiously horny girlfriend to hunt down renown feeder Michael Carter (Alex O'Loughlin, also the man behind the original story idea) in the heftily populated (not really; that should be 'populated by hefty people' but that doesn't roll off the fingers quite as well) Ohio. What, exactly, Philip is planning on doing to or with Michael is unclear. Sure, continuously feeding obese women donuts and um, protein shakes is rather unhealthy, but there are much more odious and evil crimes being committed in the world we live in.


Feed's biggest problem--and it has many--is the confusing construction of its "hero." Philip's motives seem pure enough, but what kind of qualified police officer expects to carry out any form of justice when he’s breaking every single elementary regulation in an investigation he has no actual power to pursue? A few deleted scenes reveal a little more exposition regarding Philip's big cannibalism case, but we still don't understand his weirdly violent and/or kinky relationship with his girlfriend. Perhaps I blinked during the first sex montage and missed exactly what it was that broke them up.


On the other hand, Michael's role is fascinating...and incomplete. Just when we think we've figured out what he gets from dancing to the oldies on 200 pound thighs, a new character arrives to point him in a different direction. And like many plot points in Feed, said surprise character has no real grounding and ends up ill-defined and self-contradictory.

And yet despite these complaints, Feed held my absolute attention. I wanted it to be better, but I can't say it's not interesting.


High Points
I’m amazed at how quickly movies that heavily rely on Internet technology age and date themselves, but Feed feels appropriate to the current time and particularly relevant in the age of Craig's List Lechery


O'Loughlin gives an effectively creepy and surprisingly understated performance as Michael; we expect a Norman Bates-esque loner but end up with something much smoother and almost more disturbing


While I couldn't really find myself liking the character, I like the fact that the main 'gainer' isn't portrayed as a sweet (and sweet-loving) victim; she's whiny and unpleasant, yet you really do believe her joy at having this Ken dollish specimen at her service and how hard she tries in her own way to please him


Low Points
No film should include three fast-paced montages in its first 30 minutes. While the stylized music covers are sometimes clever, the mix of aggressive pop, sliding reels, and orangey coloring is enough to give you a headache well before the gluttonous gore tries to turn your stomach


An example of how hard the editing tries to impress: when Philip lands in the U.S., an overlay of the American flag is cut into the shot as Hendrix version of the Star Spangled Banner plays for a verse. We get it. It's not Australia.

The gimmicky ending makes me think that the filmmakers got to a certain point and decided to see just how bizarre and inane the final shots could be; an alternate ending on the extras shows that amazingly enough, they could have gone one step further (and dumber)


Lessons Learned
Sydney is kind of near Japan


Do I need to say it? Never, under any circumstances, eat or drink something from the hands of a sociopathic stranger


In Ohio, an Australian accent and hoodie are the next best thing to having a police badge


The only way to pull off sexiness when covered in baked beans is to be Ann Margaret

Rent/Bury/Buy
If the concept interests you, then I can’t recommend Feed highly enough. Despite widespread obesity rates, there really aren’t many films that even try to explore the subject, much less its sexual association. You have to get past obnoxious film tricks, some extremely uncomfortable visuals, and the lack of a truly likable character, but Feed is ultimately one of those films to watch and think about, rather than enjoy. The DVD is nicely packed with a few interviews and deleted scenes but I'd recommend a rent before putting down full price. This is not a film I expect to turn on for a good time or as background filler. I would rewatch it, however, to spend a little more time considering its themes on sexuality and more importantly, because it just may be the best appetizer suppressant I've seen since watching David Hasselhoff dangle a cheeseburger over his bare chest.

Someone Famous Presents Something Less Famous

“From the special effects masters behind Hellraiser and Hellbound” reads the tagline for the strategically titled 1989 horror film Hellgate. Aside from the titular first four letters, Hellgate would never, under any circumstances in this or any other dimension, be confused with Clive Barker’s visionary nightmare soon to not be remade by Pascal Laugier. Hellraiser and its first and best sequel Hellbound utilize innovative costume design, gooey yet restrained makeup, and grandly horrific sets that put the cheap puppetry and Disneyesque ghost town of Hellgate to shame. 

I didn’t rent Hellgate for its pedigree (my real motive was the fact that it was on a double DVD with The Pit, a surprisingly lesser film that featured an evil teddy bear and forest trolls) but I did end up quite happy with the Scooby Doo feel and spontaneously combusting sea creatures it featured. That being said, the desperate ad line for Hellgate got me thinking of how some films--particularly horror--are buttered up for prospective audiences using a randomly hot industry name that may have stopped by the set one day to snag a Kraft Service donut. The most recent examples to my knowledge:

Craven Something Better

Wes Craven is something of the Krusty the Klown of the horror industry: a fine entertainer in his own right, but a little loose when it comes to lending out his name. For these reasons, the man owes me $11.50. Yes, I was one of those six people that attended the opening of Wes Craven Presents Dracula 2000, a limping update of Bram Stoker’s classic starring a pre-300, pre-personality Gerard Butler. This is only slightly less offensive than the $4 I lost renting They. Don’t bother looking for it and getting confused by its similar title to the classic giant ant movie and recent terrifying French thriller. This bland little film came and went in 2002 with less impression than leading man Marc Blucas ever made as Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s most despised love interest Riley. Yes, Wes Craven presented another opportunity for Marc Blucas to dig deep into his soul for some serious lip biting emoting. The horror is there, just not the way you expect it.

It’s Good to Be King

Stephen King has been associated with quite a large pile of...less than stellar film reels, but even he has his limits when it comes to using putting his name on unsanctioned adaptations. While he takes full credit for gleefully bad missteps like (he even cameo’d in Thinner, King tightened down on quality control in the early 90s. Thus poor Jeff Fahey’s starring role as a landscaping savant in 1992’s The Lawnmower Man may have lost a bit of its prospective audience when Maine’s most prominent author sued the producers for associating the film with his original short story. One year later, the country’s most ubiquitous horror writer’s name was nowhere to be found on Children of the Corn II: The Final Sacrifice, the not that terrible sequel to one of his most popular pieces-turned-feature. A good deal of the King film canon may not be good, but at least we generally know it came with his lawyer stamped approval.

The Unborn of Whom?

The trailer for this early 2009 release (the third Un -titled film of the month) was fairly promising until Michael Bay’s name made its bow. I suppose there were a few hungry Transformers fans lured to theaters by the Pavlovian connection, but did The Most Hated Man By Critics In America really have that much say in the making of this film? At least “The writer of Batman Begins and The Dark Knight” directed (although David Goyer does get a mere story credit for the more popular sequel). Having not yet seen The Unborn, I’m not qualified to say whether either marketing ploy is accurate. It was, however, extremely timely and convenient. 

Trust In the Toro

Guillermo Del Toro is a man whose name most genre fans trust, and thankfully, he wields his power well. A few years back, you may have found yourself explaining to a less cinematic friend that the new creepy looking Spanish film about kids in sack masks was not actually directed by that cuddly hobbit-to-be who made such an impression with Pan’s Labyrinth. The Orphanage is one of the better--almost best--horror films of the last ten years and shares a lot of the spirit found Del Toro’s masterful The Devil’s Backbone. It is, however, directed by a lesser known, but very talented Juan Antonio Bayona...whose name generally appears nowhere on the cover art. Still, Del Toro’s producing credit--milked for all its gooey attraction--is at least fitting and probably helped to make this little import a box office success. 

These are just a few forced to natural marketing connections of recent years. I imagine the list is unending, so please share you own discoveries and disappointments in the misadvertising of genre film. And by the way: unless my skimming and scanning skills are failing me, I can't seem to find a single connection on IMDB between Hellgate and its much more prominent near namesake. 

Drag Me to Hellgate

Hellgate is a gift to every adult who ever found him or herself wondering why the makers of Scooby Doo never grew up.


That’s right. In this film you will find:
-a spooky amusement park
-reanimated animal puppets
-an orangy blond male and dark-haired tomboy
-a fully choreographed dance number of the Can-Can


It's as silly as it sounds, and then a little more so. You take the goofy charms of a cartoon world and add some nudity and spontaneously combustible undead animals. In the end, you don't get a classic but you sure do have a guiltily good time.


Quick Plot:
An incredibly unaffectionate couple and their poor man’s Molly Ringwald friend await the arrival of Ron Palilo (yes, the former Horshak) in an unexciting country house. To pass the time, the trio tells a few charmingly nostalgic ghost stories set in the nearby town of Hellgate, a sort of permanent carnival eternally garbed in Christmas lights. According to local lore, tragedy struck in the 1950s, an otherwise gleeful era filled with neon-lit diners and gum-snapping waitresses.


The flashback/story intermixes itself through the opening credits and early scenes as we are introduced to a viciously denim-clad biker gang big on making homoerotic glances in each others' direction and sexually harassing restaurant employees. All would be fine and 50s had these overly aggressive gentlemen not kidnapped Josie, the pretty young daughter of a surprisingly talented pickax hurler. A laughably tragic accident turns the bland bombshell into something of a ghost (although she’s also referred to as a zombie, so who really knows) and creates a toxic fortress of solitude filled with laser shooting crystals. I think.


Yeah, it doesn’t make much more sense onscreen either, but that’s a good thing. An old-school prospector stumble upon the glistening cave and brings a piece to a man (who may also be the grieving father; it's unclear) who beholds one of the greatest mustaches in film history (Super Mario would be seething with envy). Turns out, the crystals can revive the dead by transforming it into puffy puppets that will, in ten seconds, spontaneously combust. And then we move on.


What else...I think we jump back to the present/real time, where Palilo picks up the healthily reanimated (and horny) Josie for...directions. There's no perverted chuckle behind that statement: he turns down the supermodelish apparition to get back to his beloved girlfriend and wow the lass with enough bedroom talent to make her eyes cross. Thankfully, we're spared the details.


It's hard to actually synopsize Hellgate when the plot has such a bumpy flow. Eventually, our heroes find themselves in the titular town where beheadings occur, seductions are foiled, and disembodied refrigerated heads call out for their lower halves. In other words, wacky hijinks ensue. Nothing's particularly scary, but almost all of it is rather fun in a not-very-good way. And hey, did I mention the spontaneously combusting sea creatures?


High Points
The intermixing of the kids' narrated ghost stories with the present day action isn't exactly clear, but it does make the opening a little intriguing


This movie contains a spontaneously combustible zombie turtle. The very presence of such a creature makes everything associated with Hellgate rather awesome.


The core characters are more intelligent than your typical young-people-in-peril


Low Points
...but none are particularly likeable


How much public doman music can one film dare to squeeze into its score? Hellgate is the one that dares to find out


Lessons Learned
When recently revived from the dead, one's sense of what is sexually attractive may be questionable


John Travolta was not the only sex symbol produced by Welcome Back Kotter...or so the producers of Hellgate would realllllly like us to believe


In the battle of axe vs. chain, axe wins


When in need of a quick ghost effect and cursed with a low budget, lease a player piano


Rent/Bury/Buy
There’s something truly joyful about Hellgate that is certainly worth a watch if 80s cheese is your cup of...well, liquid Cheez Whiz. Like The Pit (the flipside of this double DVD), Hellgate knows not to take itself remotely seriously. I guess you shouldn’t expect anything more from the director of Blackenstein & Wham Bam Thank You Spaceman (aka Erotic Encounters of the 4th Kind), so enjoy the tamed mullets, gratuitous nudity, kickline performance, and everything else Velma and Daphne were too shy to try.

Trollog La La Laaa

The Pit is the kind of movie creative preteens write on their first brainstorming session slumber party. It’s bad, but in a somewhat heartfelt, let’s-make-a-horror-and-use-our-toys-and-friends kind of way. Which would be great if indeed it was a film made by eleven year olds.


Prime example: the film opens on Halloween with our soon-to-be anti-hero dressed like a ghost. Naturally, such a costume involves the draping of a sheet with eye holes cut out. Please, real cyberspace people, tell me this: have you ever seen a child wear a sheet and call himself a ghost on Halloween? And no, Charlie Brown and Willow Rosenberg do not count. Maybe I haven't been trick-or-treating on the right blocks, but I truly do believe such a costume choice is reserved exclusively for the fictional media world.

The world of The Pit, however, is not quite the cliche it could be. Sure, there are snotty red-headed girls and gobbling wood creatures to be found, but it would be unfair to call this odd little 1981 non-classic trite. It's terrible in many ways, but with exception, I can't deny the sheer weirdness that went into every frame.


Quick Plot: Sixth grader Jamie (Sammy Snyders) is a bit of a troublemaker, but not quite in an innocent Bart Simpson way (although his school punishments do indeed include writing his wrongs on the chalkboard after class). Peeping on neighbors, cutting out naughty pictures from library artbooks, and sexually harassing every female over the age of eighteen are just a few of his boyish quirks, so naturally his parents decide to take an extended vacation and leave him in the care of a well-permed college student. All would be fine (well, maybe just slightly awkward, as we do have to sit through an inappropriate bath scene that predates even the birth of the young actor in Nicole Kidman’s Birth by twelve years), were it not for...The Pit!

Deep in the woods, a very precariously placed hole has captured Jamie’s attention. Inside live the trogs or trollogs or very cheaply made molish monsters with glowing eyes and num-num voices. With the help of his sinister teddy bear, Jamie realizes that in order to keep his only friends happy, he’ll need to deliver some fresh and live meat.


You’d be amazed how easy it is to trick a few locals into certain death. Once the thrill of crank calling kidnapping threats and luring librarians into stripping wears off, Jamie moves onto nastier pranks, like tipping wheelchair-bound old biddies, football captains, and mean-spirited bullies into the mouths of his carnivorous prehistoric pals. Yes, this plot point produces the best ten minutes of screentime (certainly of the movie; possibly of 1981) and no, the budget was not big enough to actually show us any of the munching.

I imagine The Pit began as an earnest horror film before its filmmakers realized their artistic and monetary limitations. Instead, the film wiggles into black comedy, although the humor is never sharp enough to get earned laughs. Still, it does involve an evil kid, ominous teddy bear, and trollogs. Were you expecting Casablanca?


High Points
The death of a seemingly protected heroic character is a pleasant surprise


A wicked little ending almost makes it worth holding out for the last scene


Low Points
The trollogs are, not surprisingly, MST3K-ready. Remember those popular Halloween costumes from the late 80s, which were basically cheap jumpsuits paired with what were most likely toxic plastic masks? If this weren’t 1981 and five years before its premiere, I would swear that the trollog design was just a dressed up version of a Kmart quality Critters outfit

An evil teddy bear? Why else would I rent this movie? Hence, I was more than a tad disappointed that Teddy (because what other name could he have?) didn’t do much more than speak in Jamie’s narrated voice


Lessons Learned
Abergail may sound like an interesting name to bestow upon your child, but before you sign that birth certificate, try to hear it said in a whiny prepubescent voice and consider just how annoying it is


Three children can disappear in a small town, but the authorities only step in when a cute babysitter is involved

Trollogs see in sepia


For a local sheriff, nothing is more embarrassing than calling the feds in to investigate missing persons; asking the local townspeople for some vigilante backup is far more reasonable


Rent/Bury/Buy
Not smart enough to be disturbing and not quite dumb enough for so-good-it’s-bad nostalgia, The Pit is reserved for an audience that prefers a grungy Cathy’s Curse to a slick Dolly Dearest . It’s a dreadful film, but its pure bizarreness and shy sleaze makes it somewhat interesting. Best of all, The Pit is on a double DVD with another goofily subpar (and somewhat more watchable; review forthcoming) 80s horror film, Hellgate. As cheap cheerful crap goes, you could certainly do worse.