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DAYBREAKERS (2009) movie review

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Daybreakers (2009) d. Spierig, Michael/Spierig, Peter (Australia/USA)

The boys from Down Under follow up their high-energy, low-budget zombie flick Undead with a vampire epic that starts off with such promising and well-developed mythology that it’s more than a little disappointing when it devolves into “small band of rebels vs. the all-controlling corporate powers” action clichés, complete with predictable last minute double crosses and irksome jump scares (in this case, in the form of annoying vampire bat shrieks).




This is not to say Daybreakers is a bad movie, because it isn’t. Filled with capable performances from Ethan Hawke, Sam Neill, Claudia Karvan (the Famke Janssen ringer who appeared in 2008’s Long Weekend update) and an especially enthusiastic Willem Dafoe, as well as gorgeously stylized cinematography and production design, there’s a lot to admire from the Spierig Brothers in terms of presentation. But with two variations on all-too-familiar themes under their belts, one hopes that their next venture exhibits more than just inspired repackaging.


MADHOUSE (1974) movie review

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Madhouse (1974) d. Clark, Jim (UK)

Vincent Price takes center stage as a hammy horror star sidelined when someone lops off his fiancée’s head at a fancy dinner party (rude, that), resulting in a decade-long rest in the booby hatch. When sleazy producer Robert Quarry decides to resurrect Price’s “Dr. Death” character in a new series of films, the aging icon returns…only to encounter his cast and crew being mysteriously murdered one by one – with himself the prime suspect.

Director Clark struggles to find an appropriate tone, attempting to play the terror straight, then detouring into the campy macabre fun of the successful Phibes series. The result is a meandering, languorous and predictable programmer, mechanically punctuated by not-gory-enough set pieces.

While it’s a treat to see Price sharing screen time with Peter Cushing, their scenes are few and far between, with the real surprise Adrienne Corri’s go-for-broke performance as a faded starlet gone bananas – her scenes of dallying with tarantulas whilst fingering her pancaked features seem transported from another movie, one you may wish you were watching instead. With Linda Hayden.

TURISTAS (2006) movie review

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Turistas (2006) d. Stockwell, John (USA)

Billed by pundits as “Hostel: South American Style,” this yawn-worthy would-be slaughterfest starts off promisingly enough with a wingding of a bus crash that strands a multinational crew of tourists in the middle of Brazil. Walking down to the seashore, they discover a local cantina where the water is warm, the beer is cold and the tanned rippling flesh is everywhere.



However, a few drugged drinks later, they wake up to find themselves robbed of their belongings and several of their party missing. When a friendly native offers to help out, they find themselves taken further into the jungles, eventually winding up as unwilling candidates for a black market organ-harvesting ring.


While Michael Ross’ slim plot has potential, Blue Crush director John Stockwell regrettably has no idea how to generate or maintain tension, as evidenced by his frequent excursions into underwater sightseeing. Stockwell does make the best of the exotic Brazilian landscape, but the thoroughly obnoxious characters grate unbearably on viewers’ nerves and by the time they start getting bumped off, the only feeling is one of “get on with it, then.” As our dull leads, Melissa George gets the opportunity to show off her native Australian accent and her bikini-bod, while generic hero-type Josh Duhamel scowls and flexes for all he’s worth. Hardly worth the trip.

THE SEA SERPENT (1984) movie review

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Sea Serpent, The (aka Hydra) (1984) d. di Ossorio, Amando (Spain)

After U.S. Forces drop a bomb into the Atlantic during a training exercise off the coast of Portugal, a giant slumbering sea serpent is awakened from its centuries-long slumber. Mayhem and hilarity ensue. The only thing faker than the titular menace, which rivals Reptilicus for sheer goofy monster puppetry, are the horrendous acting stylings of garishly miscast WASP Timothy Bottoms as a crusty sea salt tough guy captain (named Pedro, no less!) and Taryn Power’s fetching socialite, whose facial expressions upon seeing her American friend gobbled up resemble that of a heartburn sufferer.


Blind Dead impresario Amando di Ossorio directs under the non-de-plume of Graham Green, an apt pseudonym considering how much recycling he does: In addition to repeating the same shot of the watery beastie rising out of the water with its ear-shattering shriek over and over again, he lifts John Williams’ Jaws theme nearly note for note as well as the lighthouse scene from Beast from 20,000 Fathoms. Ray Milland, in his final big screen role, seems to be enjoying himself (or at least his overseas working vacation), though one can still sense the “I used to be an Oscar winner” wistfulness in his eyes as he attempts to outsmart the dragon of the damp.


Semi-noteworthy in the annals of giant monster movies for the fact that our overgrown sock puppet is allowed to survive past the final credits.

SPLATTER UNIVERSITY (1984) movie review

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Splatter University
(1984)
d. Haines, Richard D.

When a maniac escapes from an insane asylum (you’d think these folks would learn the value of added security one day), he infiltrates a nearby university’s faculty, posing as one of the staff and bumping off random students and professors alike. Plucky Francine Forbes, with her bright smile and Breck girl hair, makes for a likeable heroine, newly hired to replace one of the last semester’s recently demised.


While most of the characters and red herrings are pretty transparent, Splatter makes good on its name by providing abundant gouts and geysers of the red stuff, blasting the blood-balloons with gusto. Produced and distributed by Troma, there’s a fair amount of homespun charm, and anyone who has seen their fair share of low budget slasher flicks should not be terribly put off by the wonky acting and scattershot cinematography. In fact, the four-headed screenwriting team deserves a passing grade simply on the strength of their refreshing final-act tweaking of Final Girl genre conventions. Writer/producer/director Haines would go on to co-direct the Troma underground classic, Class of Nuke ‘Em High.

OCTAMAN (1971) movie review

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Octaman
(1971)
d. Essex, Harry (USA)

One of special f/x maestro and multiple Oscar-winner Rick Baker’s early efforts and one that he’d probably like most of us to forget, which might account for its relative obscurity. However, thanks to Fred Olen Ray, the much-beloved limb-swinging creation finally made its home video premiere last year in a stunning widescreen print that leaves your darker-than-pitch TV broadcast bootlegs in the dust. Now you can actually see Baker's many-limbed creation as it stumbles along attacking a crew (headed by former Sinbad Kerwin Mathews) investigating the effects of pollution and radiation on a small Hispanic village - whether that's a good thing or not is open to debate.


With writer/director Essex taking more than a few pages from the Creature from the Black Lagoon playbook, the eight-legged cephalopod wonder takes a fancy to Mathews’ sexy gal pal Pier Angeli and before long is marauding throughout the Mexican countryside trying to capture her. Even at a measly 76 minutes, this is a clunker of the highest order, made all the more interminable by a superfluous spelunking scene that advances the plot not one iota. Even as a throwback to the 50s “man in a suit” flicks, this is pretty suckery, er, sucky stuff.

KILLDOZER (1974) movie review

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Killdozer
(1974)
d. London, Jerry (USA)

TV-movie notable for predating 1977’s The Car in the pantheon of possessed pedal pushers, although in this case it’s not that pesky Satan behind the wheel but a kind of extraterrestrial blue light that endows the titular heavy equipment (upon making contact with a recently unearthed meteorite) with a murderous mean streak. Clint Walker, as the foreman of a construction crew assigned to create a landing strip on an isolated Pacific island, plays his role with a steel jaw and stone face, ruthlessly pushing his frantic crew (including Neville Brand, Carl Betz, and a pre-Vega$ Robert Urich) to continue their efforts while they are bumped off one by one.


In addition to its snappy title and high (if lowbrow) concept, Gil Melle’s insistent “boo-weer-boo-weer” electronic score sets teeth on edge as the biomechanical behemoth starts rockslides, levels campsites, and anticipates its human adversaries’ every move. The penultimate action set piece, pitting a steam shovel against the demonic ‘dozer, takes the silver medal to Dinosaurus! when it comes to machinery melees, but remains amusing enough. Fun in a '70s 3rd grader kind of way, especially with Ed MacKillop and Theodore Sturgeon’s cornball dialogue (based on Theodore Sturgeon's novella) greasing the treads.

30 DAYS OF NIGHT (2007) movie review

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30 Days of Night
(2007)
d. Slade, David (USA)

Based upon the graphic novel by Steve Niles (who also worked on the screenplay) and Ben Templesmith, this big budget adaptation from Sam Raimi’s Ghost House Pictures suffers mightily from the realization of how good it could have been, which unfortunately obscures how often it manages to deliver the goods.



Beginning with its brilliant high-concept plot (an Alaskan village is waylaid by vampires during the month-long period during which the sun fails to rise), there is much to enjoy here. Director(Hard Candy) Slade’s visual style provides some striking imagery – the overhead shots of the first night’s carnage are both horrifying and poetic – while the individual performances are strong on both sides of the undead fence, including Josh Hartnett’s small town sheriff, Melissa George as his spirited, estranged spouse, Danny Huston’s natty head vampire and Ben Foster’s show-stealing turn as “The Stranger.”


Additionally, the vicious band of bloodsuckers themselves, outfitted with rows of saw-like teeth, are a welcome change from the time-honored capes and fangs.


However, on the downside, Slade totally drops the ball in conveying the passage of time, and not just due to the lack of sunrises. What is sorely lacking is any sense of the mundane and the excruciating waiting for the day when the sun will finally rise, replaced instead by jump cuts to longer facial hair on the male cast members.


Also, with the savagery of the first night’s massacre, one wonders why they needed a 30-day time frame if they were going to wipe out the population in one night. Not a big fan of the extensive shaky-cam either (horror directors take note: it’s time for a new technique).

The overall impression is that of a missed opportunity for what could have been an amazing and original vampire classic instead just a pretty decent one.

BEAST BENEATH (2011) movie review

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Beast Beneath
(2011)
d. Higgins, Julian (USA)

Also known as The Curse of Griffith Park (the title that comes up during the closing credits) and The Wrath (which actually boasts its own 2007 IMDb credit), this long-shelved creature feature purports to be “based on the terrifying true tale” of the ghost of Don Antonio Feliz, the original owner of the Los Angeles property eventually purchased by Col. Griffith J. Griffith in 1882.


But in Hollywood, as we all know, “based on” takes on a very liberal definition – here, father/son writing team of Bertie and Julian Higgins would have us believe that Feliz’s ghost also manifests itself as a big sorta wolfie thing with big claws and great gnashing teeth living in Bronson Canyon (in the old BatCave, no less). To further inflate the whopper, we’re introduced to Feliz’s great grand-niece Angelina (Kristina Morales) who possesses an old family heirloom music box – wouldn’t you know it, inside said tune cube is a map written in ancient Spanish dialect directing the reader to a hidden treasure, yep, in the BatCave.



Angelina and her gringo boyfriend Derek (Daniel Bonjour) are now on the hunt, inadvertently tipping off a duplicitous linguistics professor (Kurt Sinclair) when they visit him for translation assistance. The race is on to see who will find the buried booty and who will end up as beast nibblings. Oh, did I mention that the entire affair is handled as a wraparound campfire ghost tale from a father to his son?



The old fashioned goofiness of the yarn is actually one of its stronger suits; to be honest, things start off relatively promising with a fully realized and beautifully shot flashback sequence showing Don Antonio on his deathbed as his family is fleeced out of their inheritance by a crooked solicitor (Luis Fernandez-Gil).


When the will is challenged in court, a crookeder judge upholds the flim-flam artist’s ruling. Shamed and helpless, the remaining Feliz child, Soledad (Gloria Casteneda), curses the court and its inhabitants. Soon the judge keels over, the solicitor shoots his partner, and is subsequently attacked by a large scruffy hellhound. You don’t mess with the Feliz clan, folks.


It’s in the modern sequences, which constitute the majority of the feature, that Beast slowly and inexorably runs out of juice. The story might have withstood its creakiness had the performances been a little stronger, but from the get-go it’s clearly amateur hour with the primary offender being none other than our producer/co-writer Higgins the Elder.


As “Homeless George,” Bertie jumps and giggles and prances and mugs and rolls his eyes until you want to reach into the screen and throttle him into submission. The other performances all simmer at the endurable level, especially for the low budget constraints, but one wishes Julian would have kept a tighter rein on the old man. (Watching the campfire scene between real-life father/son Mike and Philip Agresta, I had to wonder if the strained conviviality of the two generations of Higgins were being accurately portrayed. “Sure, dad, whatever you want to do…”)


This all could have been a moot point had Larry Bones’ special effects not been so underwhelming. His latex wound work definitely passes muster, even if it rarely distinguishes itself, but our monster dog costume leaves much to be desired. To be honest, I can’t properly attribute the beast to Bones since his credit only reads “Special Effects by…,” but until he steps forward to clear his name he’s going to have to live with it. Monster movies often live or die by their titular terrors – suffice to say that the less we see of this particular hairy scary, the better.


The drippy hydra-headed denouements don’t help much either – at one point I slapped my forehead so hard I saw stars. (Two words: Wacky Nuns. Here’s two more: Pirate Cruise.) One has to wonder if it was Julian or Bertie Higgins who came up with this, or Ron Kurtz, Larry Madill and/or Kevin Brooks, who are credited with "Additional scenes by..."

Even so, if you’re feeling less than discriminating and are in the mood to watch a modern day ghost tale with a lycanthropic spin, plus a dollop of Southern Californian history on the side, this just might serve the turn.

BEAST BENEATH is now available for purchase on Amazon or at eOne Films

GOKE: BODY SNATCHER FROM HELL (1968) movie review

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Goke: Body Snatcher from Hell (1968) d. Sato, Hajime (Japan)

In the 1960s, Japan turned out some of the wildest, weirdest genre offerings fans could encounter. Case in point: This futuristic Flight of the Phoenix, where, after passing through blood red cloudbanks and encountering a glowing UFO, a commercial airliner crashes in the desert, stranding its disparate band of survivors.


An evil space amoeba subsequently takes possession of a would-be hijacker (a showstopping, head-splitting, glob-oozing sequence) who begins drinking the other passengers’ blood. Before long, the “Gokemidoro” alien has drained or killed everyone except the captain and stewardess who make a break for civilization, only to confront more sinister surprises in a downbeat, politically-charged twist ending.


Released last year as part of Criterion's "When Horror Came to Shochiku" box-set, this is a long-hidden horror worth discovering.

I AM LEGEND (2007) movie review

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I am Legend (2007) d. Lawrence, Francis (USA)

The third screen version of Richard Matheson’s novel (preceded by 1964’s The Last Man on Earth and ’71’s The Omega Man) is the first true “Hollywood” take on the story and the end results are thoroughly confounding. While the backstory for the plague that wipes out the world’s population is inspired (a mutated cancer cure gone terribly wrong), one wonders how and why the virus had to turn the source material’s “vampires” into hopped up, steroid-sucking CGI monsters straight out of a Stephen Sommers Mummy movie.


Director Francis Lawrence and screenwriters Mark Protosevich and Akiva Goldsman pitch Matheson’s themes of “who is the monster now” and hauntingly quiet desperation, replacing them lots of whiz and lots of bang. Taken on its own uber-Hollywood blockbuster terms, Legend delivers several mainstream crowd-pleasing set pieces (provided the crowd is not composed of fans of the book), tons of action, and oodles of shamelessly transparent viewer manipulation and screenwriting devices.


However – even though he never gets dirty enough, emotionally speaking, for my tastes – Will Smith does a commendable job in a difficult role and there are several unconventional surprises (i.e. the bacon scene) that are pleasant enough in their offbeat nature to offset the gloss. The ending is too optimistic, and could have (read as: should have) gone darker, but since the whole movie maintains an element of optimism throughout, I suppose we shouldn't be surprised.


Ultimately, it comes down to viewers’ individual expectations and sensibilities: Is it a satisfyingly jazzed-up action/horror offering or simply a goddawful bastardization of a terrific story, one whose faithful adaptation still awaits the light of a projector? Personally, I was and remain disappointed, but have not yet settled on the degree of my chagrin.

MESA OF LOST WOMEN (1953) movie review

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Mesa of Lost Women
(1953)
d. Ormond, Ron / Tevos, Herbert

“Have you ever been kissed by a girl like this?” Lovely exotic spider women, mad and madder scientists, a two-timing gold digging female and a huge puffy stuffed spider puppet add up to a hallucinogenic experience that occasionally stumbles into artless grace. Jackie Coogan (yes, Uncle Fester from TV’s The Addams Family) is carrying on inscrutable experiments in the jungles of the Muerto Desert (?), turning women into lethal killing machines or lethal killing machines into women, one of the two.


After the avant-garde techniques drive unwilling colleague Harmon Stevens mad, he escapes from the loony bin and hijacks a newlywed couple’s plane and pilot for no real good reason other than he’s mad. Renowned character actor Lyle Talbot offers up the juicy arch voiceover narrative, but it’s all too clear he’s the only one in on the joke. As the nefarious Tarantella, Tandra Quinn turns in her best Santanico Pandemonium impression in the local cantina.



DVD Delirium’s Nathaniel Thompson describes it as “one of those films able to transcend the limits of time, stretching out indefinitely until you’re convinced there’s no way it will ever end,” and it’s too apt a description to avoid repeating here. While the directors Ron Ormond and Herbert Tevos bear much of the credit, it’s Hoyt S. Curtin’s insanely persistent Mexican guitar/piano score that really seals the deal. Look sharp for diminutive Freaks star Angelo Rossitto as Coogan’s lab assistant.

THE CANNIBAL MAN (1972) movie review

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Cannibal Man, The (1972) d. de la Iglesia, Eloy (Spain) 98 min.

Unfortunately lumped in with the array of Italy’s gruesome gut munchers of the 1970s and ’80s, many may be surprised to find that this particular Video Nasty surprisingly contains no actual onscreen cannibalism whatsoever. Although it does open with some lunch-buckling slaughterhouse scenes that precipitate the Italians’ use of mondo jungle footage, viewers would be better prepared for what to expect (and what not to) had the film been allowed to keep its original title, La Semana del Asesino (The Week of the Killer) for its U.S. release where it was also known as Apartment on the 13th Floor.



After killing a taxi driver in an act of self defense, low-income meat packing employee Marcos (Vicente Parra) retreats home with his girlfriend Paola (Emma Cohen). Terrified that he will not be believed in court due to his social status, Marcos refuses to go to the police – when his mate insists, she becomes the second in a line of murders he must keep committing in order to cover up the last.


A much, much better film than anyone would have a right to expect considering its title and BFCC stamp of disapproval, director de la Iglesia was one of the more daring and subversive filmmakers to operate during General Franco’s regime and there’s a wealth of social commentary to be had amidst the backdrop of a single man’s downward spiral into bloodshed and madness.


One of the most interesting relationships in the picture is that of Marcos to a strange, young gay neighbor living in an upscale apartment nearby. Nestor (Eusebio Poncela) seems to be privy to the random acts of violence occurring under Marcos’ roof, but refrains from alerting the authorities perhaps out of some sense of camaraderie between the two social outcasts. There is a haunting and intimate swimming pool sequence that will linger in the mind as long as any instance of bludgeoning or dismemberment.



That said, horror fans need not be chagrined. Though this is no empty-headed splatter-happy exploitation flick, heads are bashed in, body parts are lopped off, and the stinking corpses pile up (to the extent that Marcos is consistently coming home to a pack of dogs lingering around his house, attracted by the rotting meat inside). And, when he runs out of perfumes and air fresheners, he hits upon a gruesome but clever solution to disposing of the awful offal evidence...and it’s not what you think.


Blue Underground has done their usual top-notch work here, with a widescreen print that nicely juxtaposes the bleached sandy landscape with the earthy brown tones of its residents. Sound is sharp and free of distortion, and even though the English dubbed track is our only audio option, it’s rarely distracting. The only true disservice they’ve committed is inappropriately pairing it on their “Midnight Movies #8: Cannibal Double Feature” with Jess Franco’s wildly inferior 1980 quickie Cannibals (aka Cannibal World and White Cannibal Queen), further perpetuating fan expectations for a juicy flesh feast instead of an intense and rewarding character study of an unintentional serial killer. But at only $14.95, why not enjoy a taste of both and see which you prefer?


THE CANNIBAL MAN is available for sale now at Blue Underground

WATCH THE TRAILER AT: www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGeejEgRBQE

THE LORELEY’S GRASP (1974) movie review

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Loreley's Grasp, The (aka When the Screaming Stops) (1974) d. di Ossorio, Amando (Spain)

Well, when this Spanish film’s title (originally released in the U.S. as When the Screaming Stops) first came up, my immediate thought was of a girl in one of my high school classes named Lorelei and how nice it would have been to be in her grasp, but that’s neither here nor there. Although, the bevy of sexy senoritas on display in Amando di Ossorio’s feature about a legendary monster that feeds upon the hearts of her victims are nothing to sneeze at either.


Despite plenty of gore and female nudity on hand, di Ossorio’s pacing moves in fits and starts, by turns silly and redundant.

(Oh, look, there’s the creature’s scaly claw upon the door sill...again.)

When the murders start, the local girls’ school headmistress(honey-haired honey Silvia Tortosa) hires hunky Tony Kendall to stand guard over her charges, to their giggling delight. He soon learns that the mysterious sexy stranger in town, Helga Liné, has a few surprises beneath her luscious petticoats, and we’re not just talking about her sexy swimwear.


By the time we end up in the underground (and underwater) cathedral populated by cast members who look like they stumbled off a sword n’ sandals flick, viewers’ patience might well have been stretched as thin as the strings dangling from Miss Liné’s green string bikini.


Minor complaints aside, BCI Eclipses’s 2007 DVD release is gorgeous to look at, with lovely colors and shadows filling the canvas.


THE HOWLING: NEW MOON RISING, THE (1995) movie review

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Howling: New Moon Rising, The (aka The Howling VII) (1995) d. Turner, Clive (UK/USA)

Writer/producer/director/star Turner resurrects the long-running, wildly erratic lycanthrope series for a seventh go-round...then proceeds to line-dance all over its grave. This final (barring 2011's reboot The Howling: Reborn) installment in the hodgepodge werewolf series based on Gary Brandner’s novels features lots of down-home, country-fried humor, mostly of the sniggering, self-congratulatory kind – which might not be so bad if any of it were actually funny.


While there’s really no point in lodging complaints about the besmirchment of Joe Dante’s 1981 original (Howling II: Your Sister is a Werewolf already took care of that), there’s nary a hairy beast nor transformation to be seen throughout the entire film, unless you count the occasional flashback to Howlings 4, 5 and 6, the exception being a clumsy, lazy, last minute morph that constitutes the film’s “climax.” There’s even a nod to the audacious anomaly that was HIII: The Marsupials in that our writer-producer-director-star Clive Turner hails from the land Down Under. What our ambulating Aussie is doing in Texas is anyone’s guess, though the suspicions arise soon enough that he might get even furrier (hard to imagine, considering Turner’s natural hirsute appearance) when the moon is full.


Outrageously padded with countless country music numbers, glum and shadowy scenes of bored line-dancers, hysterical fashion accidents, low-wattage acting, numerous “comedic” vignettes showing off Turner’s supposed wit and guile...and fart jokes. Most of the goddawful “story” is supplied by John Ramsden’s smart aleck detective and severe priest-cum-werewolf hunter Jack Huff. And, for what its worth, both Turner and co-star Elizabeth Shé appeared in previous Howling installments (she in V and VI, he in IV and V).


Unless you’re a fan of amateur hour country music, this is nothing less than 90 minutes of sheer agony, only to be seen in the company of trash-loving fiends, preferably with alcohol to dull the pain.


CHERRY TREE LANE (2010) movie review

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Cherry Tree Lane (2010) d. Williams, Paul Andrew (UK)

It’s a little sad when the words “just another home invasion flick” are all that keep running through one’s head for the 81 minutes that Brit writer/director Williams takes to go from start to finish, but that’s pretty much all that it is. Uptight suburban couple Rachael Blake and Tom Butcher sit down for yet another tense evening dinner together when a knock on the door turns their acidic nighttime routine into a nightmare. Three thuggish youths (Jumayn Hunter, Ashley Chin, Sonny Muslim) storm into the house, smack the couple around, duct tape them up and then settle in to wait for their son to come home. Apparently, sonny boy’s been telling tales and needs to be hushed up.


Really, that’s all that can be said. The performances are strong and Williams (who impressed with 2008’s The Cottage as well as delivering the superlative screen story for The Children the same year) is clearly showing what he can do with a limited budget and shooting location, but no new ground is explored much less broken. All the characters have human faces, all have moments of strength and weakness, all are flawed but recognizable.


Hunter exudes an appreciable amount of charisma as the leader of the hoods, Blake and Butcher find many varied levels of fear and loathing, Chin and Muslim turn their supporting roles into genuine human beings, etc. It’s a perfectly serviceable effort and all are to be lauded for their efforts.


So why aren’t I more celebratory, flinging superlatives high and low? Because with the exception of the ambiguous closing blackout, there’s nary an original moment on display – a realization which dampens my enthusiasm considerably. I appreciate the fact that a competent film has been made by all concerned, and I wish them well with this and future endeavors, but considering Michael Haneke’s Funny Games did all this 15 years ago and managed to log numerous vibrations on the “never seen that before” scale, I guess I wanted our UK boys to push just a little harder.

THE POSSESSION (2012) movie review

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Possession, The
(2012)
d. Bornedal, Ole (USA)

Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Kyra Sedgwick star as separated parents, struggling through divergent child-rearing preferences during Morgan’s weekend visitation rights for their two girls Natasha Calis and Madison Davenport. To further frustrate matters, after the younger Calis picks up an old wooden memorabilia box at a yard sale, she starts exhibiting such strange behavior as speaking in growly voices, eating pancakes too fast, stabbing people with forks, eating raw meat, breaking crockery, punching out classmates and coughing up computer-generated moths.



After a bit of online searching Morgan determines that his daughter's recent acquisition is a “dybbuk box,” meant to contain violent and malicious entities. But now the demon is out of the bag and into the tyke, what to do, what to do?


The question most often asked when discussing last summer’s nonstarter from Sam Raimi’s Ghost House Pictures seems to be, “Why is it so hard to make a good Jewish demonic possession film?” (And yes, it's been tried before - hello, 2009's The Unborn.)  But in this case, it’s less about the denomination or religious sector and more about the recycled clichés and squandered opportunities that litter the landscape. Raimi and partner Rob Tapert, both of whom served as producers here, certainly should have known better, but instead of seeking an original spin on well-worn tropes, they seem to have simply thrown oodles of ho-hum CGI and been-there-seen-that jump scares into the mix and scurried off to their next board meeting.


Ole Bordenal, director of the worthy Danish fright features Nightwatch and The Substitute (as well as the lackluster Hollywood remake of the former), and screenwriters Juliet Snowden and Stiles White take a long time setting up characters and human situations only to pitch it all for a histrionic third act showcasing an overblown yet thoroughly underwhelming otherworldly snit-fit in a woefully understaffed hospital basement.


By turns ludicrous and lazy, I would even rank this slightly below that other much maligned 2012 possession flick, The Last Exorcism– call it praise by faint damnation, but these folks had Hollywood budgets and star power working for them and still couldn’t raise a shiver.

Supposedly based on a true story, as detailed in Leslie Gornstein’s Los Angeles Times article “Jinx in a Box.”

THE GIANT CLAW (1957) movie review

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The Giant Claw (1957) d. Sears, Fred F. (USA)

Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird! An enormous bird! An enormous bird puppet from beyond the stars here to wreak havoc and hilarity upon anyone who crosses its path! While a befuddled Jeff Morrow wonders where the hell it came from, and more importantly, what the hell happened to his career (“I was in This Island Earth, damn it!”), the nest-making pest swoops, lurches and screeches circles around his hapless human co-stars.






Morrow is forced to mutter claptrap about antimatter and alternate dimensions, while also wooing Tarantula star Mara Corday, she of the perfectly shaped eyebrows and pursed lips.


Despite the fact that it evokes more guffaws than goosebumps, credit must be given to the extraordinarily expressive monster bird, a hysterically spectacular and unforgettable creation, though it hardly conjures the image of "a flying battleship".


Doomed to obscurity for ages, this giant butterball finally emerged on a DVD box set celebrating legendary schlock producer Sam Katzman in 2007. Combining both the big bug and menace-from-outer-space genres with verve, this ranks among the best of the worst. Not to be missed.

THE SHINING (1980) movie review

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Shining, The
(1980)
d. Kubrick, Stanley (UK/USA)

Carving out a niche of its own in the vaunted annals of haunted house cinema, Stanley Kubrick’s stunner is far from a slavishly faithful adaptation of Stephen King’s bestseller, which dismayed the author and baffled critics upon its initial release.



Many complained that Jack Nicholson’s recovering alcoholic character, given the winter caretaking duties of the majestic Overlook Hotel, was crazy from the get-go and that Kubrick and co-screenwriter Diane Johnson’s take was confusing and inaccessible.


However, time has been kind and many horror fans have come to appreciate these qualities as assets rather than faults. More than anything, it’s a gorgeously shot and well acted cinematic tour-de-force, with the many unexplained elements only serving to deepen the suspense and mystery.


Kubrick, aided brilliantly by cinematographer John Alcott and production designer Roy Walker, glides his constantly roving Steadicam effortlessly throughout the intricate, grandiose Overlook sets. The hypnotic score, composed by Rachel Elkind and Wendy Carlos (along with a mashup of classical pieces) is unique in that the aural jump scares rarely coincide with the visual action – the bursts often occur in the middle of extended tracking shots, bumping up the unsettling atmosphere tenfold.


True, Nicholson may indeed be deranged from the outset, but his skill as an actor allows him to soar where lesser craftsmen would have bumped against a premature emotional ceiling. Jack just keeps going and going, up to and beyond his infamous aping of Ed McMahon’s Tonight Show intro, “Heeeeeere’s Johnny!”


As his troubled wife, Shelley Duvall is the ideal foil for Nicholson, with an unsung performance that is equally captivating – watch her face as she discovers Jack’s manuscript and try to argue to the contrary. Rarely has the essence of sheer, uncomprehending terror been captured so completely.


Clocking in at over 140 minutes, this is no breezy frightfest, but rather a prolonged, dizzying descent into madness, one brilliantly captured on celluloid and filled with instantly iconic moments.

PRESIDENT'S DAY (2010) movie review

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President’s Day
(2010)
d. LaMartina, Chris (USA)

It’s election time at Lincoln High, with candidates dropping out of the race not from peer pressure but rather lack of a pulse. Yep, someone wants to win so badly they’ve donned a wrinkly pale latex mask with a crepe hair beard, grabbed their trusty top hat, shouldered an axe and started four-scoring their fellow future politicians right out of existence.


With suspects legion and gore score high, the race is on for nice guy slacker Barry (Bennie Mack McCoy IV) to uncover the psycho before there’s no one left to vote. Is it mysterious new girl Joanna (Lizzy Denning), snobby beyotch Chelsea (Nicolette le Fay), school mascot Dennis (Shawn C. Philips) or goth gal Michelle (Ruby Larocca)? Or could it be one of the faculty members, such as security officer Kennedy (Ryan Thomas) or stuffy civics teacher Mr. Wright (cult staple George Stover)? The competition is fierce and no polling curtain will save you from the madman’s sharp blade…




Enthusiasm is the fuel that powers many a microbudget horror feature, and in the case of Baltimore filmmaker Chris LaMartina (following in the noble footsteps of John Waters and Don Dohler), the kid’s got it in spades. While some fans might be tired of the endless tribute paid to the slasher flicks of yesteryear, LaMartina and fellow co-producer/co-screenwriter Jimmy George have tapped into the DNA of high school horror flicks like Student Bodies and Slaughter High, setting up an enjoyably outlandish and ridiculous scenario that stays in its own universe without needless winking at the audience.


From the opening sequence where a comely lass ends up with more head than she bargained for after Ol’ Rail Splitter lops off her servicing partner’s noggin, the giddy splattery tone is set and stays on course for its swift, well-paced 81-minute running time. With a body count in the double-digits and several doses of busty top-popping, this is a tasty beer n’ chips programmer with a barrel of blood and a whole lotta heart.


Speaking of which, kudos must go out to Tom Savini School of Makeup grad Kaleigh Brown, who dishes out an impressive array of creative kills from her presumably limited resources. With faces seared on stovetops or mashed in mop bucket wringers, basketball trophies and bass guitars jammed down victims’ gullets, noses nipped, eyeballs speared, and severed limbs flying like mortarboards on graduation day, there’s much to enjoy here.


Sure, you can see a few latex seams here and there, but the DIY spirit is in full flower, reminding us why we love our silly, cheap, tawdry slashers in the first place: BECAUSE THEY’RE FUN. (Spy Video’s DVD cover art may in fact be too serious in tone, its sinister, shadowed, stovepiped slayer seems to court a different crowd.)


There’s no faulting the DVD’s special features, which contain a lively and informative commentary by LaMartina and George where they reveal the similarities between onscreen characters and the candidates in 2008’s U.S. Presidential election, as well as the standard occasion-specific trials and tribulations of making a low-budget feature (losing their primary location weeks before principal photography, hiring a non-skateboarding actor to play a character whose primary source of locomotion is betcha-can’t-guess-what, dueling with neighborhood basketball teams over the use of the school gym, etc.).


These stories and the duo’s never-say-die spirit are both inspiring and relatable to anyone who’s ever thought about getting behind the camera. Mistakes and compromises were made, but the ultimate result is a dynamite labor of love that aims only to entertain and hits the mark time and again. There’s also a fine making-of featurette “Blood on the Campaign Trail” and a so-so blooper reel alongside an enjoyable “grindhouse” (i.e. digitally distressed) version of the trailer.


Bottom line, this is a skillfully executed example of homespun horror. I look forward to seeing what else these Charm City lads have got up their bloody sleeves.




RANDOM THOUGHTS AND FACTOIDS:

*Midnight Crew Studios in association with Nice Guys Productions (not to be confused with Mick Garris’ Nice Guy Productions)
*Shot in 21 days for a budget of $5,000 in the Baltimore area
*Sheldon Lawrence, who plays our bass-playing Principal, for some reason is not listed in the film’s IMDb credits.
*That “Ghost of Abraham Lincoln” song by the Skeptics played over the end credits is pretty catchy.
*Our lambskin sporting heavyweight Shawn C. Philips has racked up an impressive number of horror acting credits – over 50 listed on IMDb since 2008!
*That’s our director’s dad Ron as the no-nonsense chemistry teacher Mr. Roemer.
*Ryan Thomas, in addition to playing Officer Kennedy, served as the film’s casting director.
*Chris LaMartina also served as editor and composed much of the musical score.
*No, those are not Jesse Layne’s (Ms. Heath) real boobs. But you knew that already.



PRESIDENT'S DAY will be released on April 9, 2013, and is now available for pre-order on Amazon, or you can get it here on Movie Stop.
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