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.

D'oh! So That's Why I'm Dead

Devoted horror fans put up with a lot. Bad acting and clunky dialogue are often standard, while roving misogyny and special effects made during arts ‘n’ crafts class are not uncommon. Worse of all, we find ourselves constantly defending a genre littered with characters that make Jessica Simpson look like a Rhodes Scholar.

Sadly even good horror films are not immune. Let’s look at a few examples where seemingly smart characters doom themselves with stupid decisions. 

Mapping The Blair Witch Project

From the plain-faced actors to the music-less sounds of autumn, The Blair Witch Project achieved a sense of realism so true, gullible fans formed vigilant search missions to save the ill-fated (and fictional) filmmaker trio. For all its clever plotting and subtle scenes, however, there is one glaring plot flaw that could make even the most loyal fan say, “At least Book of Shadows didn’t do that.

"I kicked the map into the river!"proclaims the giggling, near hysteric Mike. It’s certainly understandable that being lost in the woods and low on food would play with our characters’ heads here and there, but could it also transform a once smart man into a total idiot? Granted, the map would probably have served no other purpose than becoming a sharp paper airplane to jab into Heather’s eye, but still: making a character that careless cuts our sympathies by a granola bar portion.

The Beyond Stupidity

It’s easy to watch a zombie film these days with a sense of superiority. After experiencing hundreds encounters with shamblers, sprinters, talkers, and every other varietal, most discerning fans know the only way to survive a meeting with an undead warrior is to shoot him or her in the head. Of course, in 1981, this wasn’t quite universal knowledge and thus, David Warbek’s heroic doctor in Lucio Fulci’s surreal classic is somewhat excused for firing a few stray rounds. For an untrained marksman, the head is not always the most obvious target.

Of course, all that should change when, after shooting a bunch of rotting corpses to no effect in the stomach, a head shot finally takes one down. Most people--especially those with enough intelligence to pass medical school--would probably reason that repeating said shot could defeat the approaching monsters. This guy? Not so much. Then again, he does load his rifle by dropping bullets down the barrel, so maybe he just knows something we don’t.

Taking Advantage of The Ruins

Stranded on an abandoned temple, surrounded by gun-wielding natives, and running out of food and water, the five pretty young people of 2008’s surprisingly good little horror film have little hope for survival. Well, they do have one weapon but despite the fair amount of intelligence present in these young college educated characters, no one thinks to take advantage of the one piece of leverage they have against their human antagonists: the villainous plants. 

When Jenna Malone breaks down, she hurls a loose piece of greenery straight at her captors. It brushes a young boy and before you can say poison ivy, another local soldier instantly shoots the unlucky fellow. Logic would follow that tossing a few more flowers in their direction could buy a little time by inciting a shootout, perhaps providing enough chaos for a frantic escape. I guess our party girls and boys slept through Logic and Survival Skills 101 freshman year.

That Darned Pet Sematary

Mary Lamber’s 1989 adaptation of Stephen King’s novel has produced its share of nightmares (in mine, Gage and Chucky would teamed up against me as the world’s scariest duo with a combined height under four feet) but in order to truly  be frightened, the audience is forced to endure not one but three character decisions that defy basic logic.

The kindly retired Hermann Munster/author of wonderful children’s books Fred Gwynne plays a weathered old man who knows his home town well. Upon the death of the new neighbors’ beloved kitty, Gwynne’s Jud encourages Mr. Creed to bury it in the local pet graveyard, knowing full well that what goes into the ground will come up...different. And never good.

Not surprisingly, the feline Church returns with an extremely unreasonable dose of cattitude. You’d think the young father had learned his lesson, but then true tragedy strikes, killing his young son. Naturally, the best idea seems to be a post-mortem move back into the old neighborhood. This not-so-bright decision can certainly be excused when taking into account the grief of losing a child, so I’ll cut the grieving father some slack. However, upon being widowed (whaddya know, by the very monster he helped to create), Mr. Creed returns again to the clearly cursed pet cemetery to bury his late wife. Because surely three times is the charm.

Really? Sure, your daughter is conveniently stashed away at Grandma’s, but if you think this move is going to inspire a second honeymoon, prepare for some serious disappointment.

Dumbness in Dawn of the Dead ’04

I spent several years working in the pet care industry and have owned dogs and cats my whole life. I know how deeply love can run with the canine species. 

I’m also not an idiot.

According to Zack Snyder and James Gunn’s revision of the zombie rules, freshly spry corpses run faster than Ricky Henderson in his prime. They’re also pickier eaters than the average supermodel, preferring an Atkins friendly menu of human meat with no cheats allowed on puppy ribs. Hence, when border collie Chips is dispatched to bring a few sandwiches to the sharpshooting Andy, he doesn’t need protection. 

Tell that to the whiny redhead who puts several lives in danger attempting to rescue the completely safe dog.

So am I being too hard on these intellectually inferior (and massively unlucky) characters, or should they all invest in a few good books? And which other casts would you nominate for Darwin Awards and certain death?

Help Me Shop

As I struggle to find that free 90-120 minutes to watch what hopefully will yield deep writable impressions on my twisted little mind, I didn't want to go too long a stretch with no content. Hence, today's most selfish post where I solicit free advice regarding which poster for The Wicker Man I should throw my bid into ebay for. If it helps, the current decorating scheme of my very adult and mature apartment includes artwork for Night of the Living Dead, The Ewoks 2: Battle For Endor, Battle Royale, and a three-in-one of Carrie, Burnt Offerings, and Aubrey Rose.





or




Your choice and explanation are highly valued and will be rewarded with happy thoughts from my cats.

Meanwhile, I've succumbed to the evil addictive force that is Flickchart. Total Recall vs. Rushmore? Halloween vs. Ed Wood? It's like masochist porn for film lovers, only neverending and free. You can friend me over there where I'm listed as deadlydolls.

And don't judge me on those rankings just yet. Million Dollar Baby at no. 3? Only when it continuously has to battle weaklings like My Best Friend's Wedding and the headache-inducing Who Framed Roger Rabbit?.

I'm hoping to get back to some good old fashioned reviewing in another few days, so until then, return your Netflix DVDs in a reasonable time period, don't litter, and visit your local library.

Consider my community service done.