Friday, October 14, 2011

Rock Me! Shock Me! Paracineme!

Yo, Wuhstah! You know what goes down this weekend? 




Clearly all sorts of amazing things, if a still from A Nightmare On Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge is involved. So dig out your Revolutionary War memorabilia and Red Sox gear for Massachusetts' annual horror convention, Rock 'N Shock!*




*Yes, I've been told that Worchester is actually not near Boston, but what else does Massachusetts have going on that I'm supposed to know about?


The point is, if you're anywhere near the DCU Center & Palladium this weekend, come on over to meet the likes of Robert Englund, Lance Henrikson, Roddy Piper, Gary Busey AND his son, and the aforepictured Mark Patton or really, ME!


Don't worry. I'm no longer blond. Or sporting a Jareth bulge.


I'll be heading up with my GleeKast cohostess Erica, The Podcast Podcast's Fozziebare, and Buried In a Book Crypt's Ashlee to roam the floors on Saturday and Sunday.  Outside the Cinema will be streaming all weekend with an open chat room, so if you can't make the trip, pop on there to see the festivities. It's sort of like watching Joan and Melissa Rivers on the red carpet, but with clown makeup and rubber masks.




Which is sort of like watching Joan and Melissa Rivers on the red carpet anyway.


If you're heading to Rock 'n Shock, be sure to say hullo or else once I find out you were THERE and didn't, I'll fear that I fell into a Silent Hill-esque alternate dimension that will forever keep me away from Sean Bean. No one wants that. 




Stop by the Outside the Cinema table or shoot me an email (deadlydollshouse at gmail.com). Now that I have an iPhone, I can know about the Interverse when not connected to my computer. Although I also just upgraded my settings and will probably not actually be able to work it so if nothing else, look out for the short brunette with the loud voice and Merrell Sneakers.
Greatest shoe design of all time.
But juggalo sighting and bootleg DVD shopping isn't all you have to look forward to this weekend. Over yonder at Paracinema, the makers of the greatest genre magazine of our time are feeling awfully generous. If you purchase any issue between today and Sunday (October 16th) you'll be entered to win a free (and awesome) t-shirt! THIS ONE!


I own one myself, and it's comfy AND kickin'. Plus I also own A LOT of Paracinema magazines and they're smart, funny, informative and fascinating. Head to their website and skim through back issues for one that catches your eye, or pick up the new one complete with writeups on Inside, Bela Lugosi, censorship, Turkish ripoffs and much much more. Travel back in time to The Women's Issue (#11), composed entirely of writing by females (including my own take on George Romero's misplaced feminism). Issue 8 is a Tommy Wiseau fan's own bouquet of roses, while Issue 10 has perhaps the writing I'm personally most proud of, my article on Victor Salva's Clownhouse. Browse your choices and pick your raffle ticket, or get an actual subscription to keep you clothed and smart for years to come!


Excitement! 

Thursday, October 13, 2011

It's a World of Pure Imagination (or just unconventional zombies)


Having recently read Shock Value, the fine and thorough study of the men behind some of the latter 20th century’s most genre-defining films, I’ve come to the realization that I should really watch more films touched by Dan O’Bannon. 1981’s Dead and Buried comes with his name (among others) on the screenplay, plus it’s a Netflix Instant Watch, so fate was predetermined.


Of course, a little research (or informed opinions from the good people over at the Palavr forums) let me know that Dan O'Bannon had absolutely nothing to do with Dead and Buried, save for selling his name to smack on the title after the success of Alien. So that's that.
Quick Plot: We open on a beach in Potters Bluff with the very strange flirtation between a photographer and random blond, who figures a chance meeting with a man and his camera could guarantee a modeling career. It helps when you show him your boobs.


Unfortunately for the almost-lucky stranger (whom the blond insists on calling Freddy), the day isn’t quite as peachy as a naked beauty would lead you to believe. Just as he moves in for a kiss, a herd of townsfolk (including a young Robert Englund) knocks him out, dragging him to a post to burn him alive. 

Dating is HARD.
Elsewhere in town we meet Sheriff Dan Gillis as he investigates the mysterious death of the unidentified passerby. On hand to help (sorta) is the town mortician Dobbs, played with extreme grumpiness by Grandpa Joe himself, Jack Albertson. See, Dobbs loves his art of repairing mauled or burnt or blown apart faces, and the fact that his town keeps giving him closed casket funerals is like asking Gordon Ramsay to turn country fair winning pig meat into ballpark hot dogs.

When another non-Potters Bluffian is found dead, Gillis’ suspicions grow to extreme levels of scowling. You can’t blame him, especially when the barely surviving and hospitalized “Freddy” is murdered in his mummy body wrapped immobile state, only to later reappear as a cheerful gas station attendant. Throw in the slightly odd behavior of Gillis’ own wife (Flash Gordon’s Melody Anderson) and you have some eerie mystery building, 1980s small seaside town style.

Dead and Buried is an interesting little film, one that never seemed to find any cult status. On one hand, I can see why: while it has some surprising actors and a neat premise, it’s a slow trail. Then again, so is Dan O’Bannon frenemy John Carpenter’s The Fog, a film with a very similar tone and style and one of which I never quite understood the intense genre adoration for.

I don’t know that Dead and Buried is necessarily better than The Fog, but it might be just as good. There are some genuinely tense scenes--witness the nighttime shadow attack on a young family with the nerve to make a bathroom break in a mystery town--and lots of macabre humor, most of which comes courtesy of the hilariously crotchety Grandpa Joe and his pride in corpse transformation. The makeup effects are credited to Stan Winston, and while they certainly look makeup effecty, they also boast that late 70s/early 80s charm that marks a film with a specific time stamp so near and dear to many of our hearts.

Ultimately, Dead and Buried was a far more interesting film than I was expecting, although its slow pacing in revealing the not terribly well-kept secret certainly kept me from feeling overly impressed. Director Gary Sherman has an uneven but not boring resume, beginning with the enjoyable subway slaughter film Raw Meat and stretching through the not-as-bad-as-it-quite-is Poltergeist III. His touch on Dead and Buried works well, blending odd humor with horror in an effectively creepy village setting. The film dragged for me, but that’s probably more due to that halfway through it, I realized there was a new episode of Hell’s Kitchen AND the annual Miss Universe Pageant to watch. That will make anything feel too long.

High Points
The central death of the film--I won’t spoil whose--is done with an outstanding balance of horror and sadness
Low Points
While I liked the reveal of what’s been plaguing Potters Bluff, I found something lacking in how it unfolded. We already suspected most of the secret, but the ultimate explanation just seemed clumsy

Lessons Learned
Photographers don’t get famous in St. Louis
You can always count on a diner waitress to be named Midge. Also, for her to burn people alive
Shells = bullets
1980s Alert!
An attractive but ill-fated hitchhiker dares to hop into a grungy truck. Remember folks, VHS tapes were still new and kids back then didn’t have the luxury of watching so many horror movies that they learned important (or Doll’s House official) life lessons explaining the horrors of hitchhiking in a movie
Overacting Drunk Alert!
I just adore any actor with the guts to go all-out slurry. So thank you, dude playing a drunk in Dead and Buried. Thank. You.

Rent/Bury/Buy
I liked Dead and Buried quite a bit. I did. I just really wanted to watch living mannequins known as pageant girls parading in Barbie gowns while attempting to incorporate God into their 10 seconds of allowed non-quiet time. It’s one of my many fatal flaws. Hence, Dead and Buried doesn’t get the fairest shake from me, since I just really wanted it to end for reasons that weren’t *necessary* its fault. I did like this movie and recommend a viewing (probably just a rental/stream) so long as you’re in the mood for something early 80s, something slow, and something starring Grandpa Joe.


Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Woops! They Forgot the H


Awareness is a dying art. Take, for example, my complete ignorance over the fact that in the fall of 1992 there existed a light-hearted sitcom set after the accidental release of nuclear missiles destroyed the majority of mankind. Because let’s face it: if there’s one subject that screams for ringing laughter courtesy of a studio audience, it’s the apocalypse.

Thanks to YouTube, that same wondrous creation that gave us Rebecca Black, Wicker Man compilations, and kittens playing the piano, FOX’s quickly cancelled Woops! remains as alive as the six lucky surviving stock characters it starred. Like many conventional sitcoms of its era, the show hasn’t aged well, but that doesn’t make it any less bizarrely fascinating, so much so that THE spokesman and president of the Dead 2 Rights (motto: Changing minds, not eating them) and myself just had to tackle this failed comedic exercise.
If you’re not familiar with Wayne Kotke, then let our co-discussion on Woops! be your entryway into a world of wonder. Wayne is a blogger, musician, comic scribe, and all-around superstar whose talents pretty much defy description. To learn more of this zombie--er, living impaired gentleman of whom I bestow my fondest praise, head over to his home base where you can find daily Zomby comics (just like another unlucky big-nosed Z-named character, but funny and dead) told with Wayne’s unique voice. Over yonder is the link to our Woops! writeup, complete with streaming links to the special Christmas episode.

What, you thought there’s no Christmas in the apocalypse? Santa DOES have a bomb shelter you know. And survivor’s guilt. 
Get to it!

Sunday, October 9, 2011

In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki House of Fears


Time and time it’s been proven that if you dangle a movie poster involving a psychotic clown on my Netflix Instant Watch menu, I will watch it. 
House of Fears continues to support that theory.
Quick Plot: Somewhere in Africa, a man and woman find a funky monkey statue artifact amid a cave of corpses. 
It gets through customs.

Back in the states, newly united stepsisters Haily and Samantha attend a typical high school party where the trendily named Carter and Zane convince them and a make-out-happy couple to change things up by sneaking into the local funhou--er, I mean, haunted house. Once there, the doors lock them inside and guess what? The house proves to be--sit down folks--REALLY haunted.

Blame it all on a The Brady Bunch Goes to Hawaii style African tiki. Before you can say surfing accident, our pretty young heroes are being chased by bald vampires, ugly clowns, nasty scarecrows and sand. 
And that’s about all there is to say of the storyline inside House of Fears, a slick but decent little horror movie that makes good use of its naturally memorable beasties. Sure, it’s really just a simple way to throw out a few moments of  evil clown giggles and electrocution, but sometimes, that’s all a film really calls for and House of Fears delivers it without too many complications.
High Points
Hey, any film that units clowns AND scarecrows to kill pretty young people with stupid names like Zane can’t be that bad, right?

Low Points
The constant harping to call the lead actress ‘the dowdy one’ would have been even mildly more effective if actress Corri English didnt’ bare such a striking resemblance to a still-pretty Crossroads era Britney Spears


Lessons Learned
When hanging out in an actual haunted haunted house, try to avoid revealing any major life secrets that might make your inevitable death a tad more painful, such as “I’m absolutely terrified of dying by suffocation.” That will come back to you, no matter how shiny your hair may be

“I say we just go back to your house and make out” might SOUND sexy in your head, but saying it out loud will most certainly lead instead to a group date
Dates don’t generally appreciated being swapped halfway through the date

Rent/Bury/Buy
House of Fears does nothing overly special, but it does most of itself quite well for a straight-to-DVD horror film. It’s about on par with another clown-stalking-pretty-people film, Amusement, a movie that’s more than passable entertainment even if it doesn’t offer anything new to its audience. As an instant watch when your mind is working at half its level, it’s not a bad way to not think too hard.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Isn't It Funny When We End Up Killing Our Peers?


April Fools contains the same premise as about 9,218 other films. It just happens to do it with a mostly-black cast. So that’s something, right?
Quick Plot: A group of 17-year-olds play a typically cruel prank on Melvin, a bespectacled nerd and apparent “V-Boy” (it means exactly what you think it does). After Melvin is cock-teased and humiliated, the gang rustles football-star-to-be Scoop into throwing a football at the suffering dweeb’s rear, not realizing that Melvin just so happens to be leaning over something sharp and pointy. He lands throat-first, prompting the kids to rehash the opening scene of I Know What You Did Last Summer to perfection.

Why does this picture look so familiar?
“We’re graduating next year! Girl One has an academic scholarship! Girl 2 is going to work for her parents while managing her very own dance troupe! Guy 1 has a full ride to play football! Girl 3 is going to be a doctor! Guy 2 and myself are going to get entry level jobs and stay out of prison! We can’t tell the cops!”
I’m paraphrasing, but not by that much. The gang agrees that the only possible solution--despite one of the members being the good-girl daughter of the chief police detective--is to shoot Melvin in the head and stage the scene as a drive-by. Since there are apparently no pedestrians at all hanging out ever on the streets of Chicago, they do so without a hitch.

Fast forward to spring of the next year--you know, the titular anniversary of the previous April Fools--where everyone seems on track. It’s the perfect time to kickstart a slasher formula, with The Girl Who Was Going To Be A Doctor meeting her slow-motioned stabbing fate in the basement of a mortuary. The Good Girl Who Has A Full Academic Scholarship grows immediately suspicious and voices her concerns to Eva, The Only Girl Whose Name I Wrote Down and who is also known as The Girl Who Will Work For Her Parents While Managing Her Very Own Dance Troupe. 


The dance troupe is important, you see, because it a) allows us to watch synchronized dancing, a la the only moment of worth in She’s All That, b) it provides a much-needed moment of camel-toe and c) it offers the cameraman the hilarious challenge of trying to frame Eva’s behind during an intense close-up of booty shaking. 
Perhaps in exasperation at the very thought of watching Eva’s rear end continue to have a seizure, the script kills her next with similar slow-motioned fanfare. Cut to the Spring Jam, hosted by Special Guest Star Li’l Flip*, where the kids get shaking and Stabby McStabberson continues to get slow motioned stabby.
You may have noticed that he words ‘slow motion’ have been repeated several times in the running of this post. It is, perhaps, the definitive style of April Fools and while we’ve seen it in plenty of slashers, my theory on why it’s so prevalent is a little more utilitarian: April Fools runs at just 72 minutes long, and that’s including two dance sequences, several flashbacks to the opening death, several establishing shots that show location signs then carefully zoom in on them, a pre-credits film recap, and post-credits blooper reel. Between those things, about 40% of the film’s action is shown in slow motion. To be kind, it’s a bit stretched.

But is the film awful? Well yes, but so are most Pretty People In Peril slashers of its ilk. There’s something of a mystery with WHO the killer might be, though as the body count rises and suspect list gets shorter, the answer becomes obvious. The script uses some filler to round out the Final Girl’s character, mostly with the “I’ve never seen this before!” subplot that her mother recently died of cancer and her dad works too much. We get the obligatory “I wish mom were still alive!” tantrum, plus a lecture by the brilliantly named Obba Babatunde’s lecture on the perils of peer pressure. Once the killer reveals him or herself, there’s a mildly tense--and not at all mildly slow motioned--final chase and battle, capped with some nursery rhymes that I suppose seemed fairly menacing on paper. 

Best. Semi-related. Image. Ever.
The film is not menacing in the least, but hey: it’s 72 minutes long. There are moments of unintentional hilarity and even MORE moments of unintentional hilarity via slow motion, but first-time director Nancy Norman could certainly have made a worse film. This ain’t as polished as the not-good-but-competent Chain Letter, but it also wasn’t Unborn Sins-level bad. As slashers go, the fact that the cast was primarily black is certainly something interesting, though the story and execution are as rote as they come.
*High Points
The opening credits announced a “Special Appearance By Li’l Flip” as if it were quite special and more importantly, as if I was supposed to know who Li’l Flip was. It was worrisome that I would sit through all 72 minutes of April Fools without ever catching this celebrity. You can then imagine my relief when Li’l Flip plays himself and the film makes it incredibly obvious and special that we get the proper introduction to just who this petite flip is.

Low Points
There’s a reason I don’t really remember anybody’s name, and an increasing amount of alcohol in my veins ain’t one of them
Lessons Learned
When you don’t have the rights to use the word ‘coke’ or ‘Pepsi’ on film, ‘pop’ and ‘cola’ will serve your purpose well enough


It’s incredibly difficult to find a good tutor in the Chicago public schooling system
Diener is German for servant...and there’s nothing weird about a white doctor pointedly telling that to his black assistant


Open Question To Mortician Readers
Is it just standard to EXPECT that on April Fool’s Day, someone will play the whole ‘This corpse is ALIVE’ prank?

Rent/Bury/Buy
April Fools is as by the book as slashers come, save for the fact that it features a more diverse cast than the Hollywood norm. That doesn’t make it good in any way, but at least it has something going for it other than a brief running time. As an Instant Watch, you might get a few laughs out of it, but there’s certainly nothing overly special...even in its 72 minutes.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Oh My October!

You have no idea how horrified I am to realize that we're FOUR DAYS into the greatest time of the year and I haven't done a thing to acknowledge it. Sure, there are candy corn crumbs dripping out of my mouth and slowly eroding my teeth as I type and yes, I've crunched through some fall leaves and tightened the scarf around my neck but my office is nowhere near being appropriately decorated, my costume not remotely decided, and my annual viewing of Halloween III far from sil-VER sham-rocking its way onto my television.

You might say I'm a tad stressed.
This silly thing called LIFE, you see, has been trick or treating its way into daily and weekly being like it has some right to exist or something. There are these things called 'best friends' who have the nerve to do this thing called 'getting married,' and as a result I have to, can you believe it, do actual STUFF that takes away from such life-affirming medicine as watching and writing about horror movies. For shame, me. For. Shame.

Luckily the world will slowly return to its natural status, meaning my feet will be freed from those torture devices known as high heels and my fingers will surrender their grasp on wine glasses long enough to instead work hard at typing (or just clutching a pumpkin beer). October here at the Doll's House will mostly be a month like any other (i.e., filled with talk on the good and tragically bad of cinema) but note that other bloggers are working harder at capturing the true essence of orange and black. The esteemed Mattsuzaka returns with Chucktober over at Chuck Norris Ate My Baby, while the venerable Vicar of VHS tackles a film a day over at Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies and my good pal Zach tackles the devil himself THIRTEEN TIMES over at The Lightning Bugg’s Lair. On the audio end, ShowShow is gathering up the coffee and Ritalin for another round of the Spooktacular, wherein Miles, Katie & Co. put out a podcast EVERY DAY. Stay tuned for what will be their epic discussion of a few Doll's House favorites, including the unofficial winner of February's Attack of the Shorties, Unborn Sins!

Oh and there are MOVIES! A few of my favorite new independent films are hitting DVD shelves near you (or your computer). Barbara Stepansky's fine feminine ghost story (of sorts) Fugue is now available for purchase from iTunes, Amazon, or the film’s official website. I reviewed it last year for Rogue Cinema and found it to be absolutely excellent all around with strong performances and unique storytelling. You can learn more about director Stepansky by reading our interview from last year or take the audio route by listening to my good pal Cortez the Killer’s Planet of Terror Podcast, where Ms. Stepansky guested on Episode 4.


Also on its way is Seve Schelenz’s SKEW, an eerie found footage saga with some truly chilling moments and breezy streaming availability on Netflix. I also reviewed SKEW for Rogue Cinema a few months back and found it had an effectively chilly atmosphere that would work quite well on a crisp autumn evening. For more info, take a gander at my interview with Mr. Schelenz or just add it to your queue and save it for a quiet night.

Lastly, this being October, it's my annual chance to remind you all that the time has come to clear out some weekends for the convention circuit! In two weeks, Rock 'n Shock hits Worchester, MA, which means so do I. Expect to see such luminaries as my GleeKast cohostess Erica, The Podcast Podcast's Fozziebare, Buried In a Book Crypt's Ashlee, and the Outside the Cinema team roaming the floors. As always, I can't wait, then I get sad when it's over, but then comfort myself with the knowledge that one month later, I get the massively epic HorrorHound Weekend to invade Cincinnati. If you're planning on attending either convention, shoot me an email for some coordinated dance-offs.

So while that doesn’t get me any closer to knowing who or what I’ll be in 27 days, it’s a start. After all, there’s only...
27 Days Til Hall-o-Ween
Hall-o-Ween
27 Days Til--
You get my point.