V/H/S: Viral (2014) Held Together With Spit and Wire

I'm telling you, I was really hoping for more from V/H/S: Viral.  I like the whole found footage anthology bit and having the franchise populated with short films from talented up-and-coming directors.  The trailer looked wild.  Everything was in place.  Still, I came away from it not quite satisfied.  Kind of like when I eat at Taco Bell.  I like some of the parts but as a whole, I'm wondering what I just ate.

Like the previous two V/H/S films (which I reviewed here and here), this one is split into smaller stories bound by a wraparound narrative.  The wraparound in this case is called "Vicious Circles," and is directed by Marcel Sarmiento, who helmed my favorite entry in the first ABC's of Death movie, "D is for Dogfight."  The wraparound kicks off the narrative of a video-fame-obsessed young man chasing a strange ice cream truck in the middle of a police chase.  Seems the truck has somehow kidnapped his girlfriend and as the chase progresses, we're privy to some of the videos apparently broadcasting from the truck.  Much like the first two films, the videos are cursed and in this case, are affecting people on a wider scale.

The first film within a film is called "Dante the Great," directed by Gregg Bishop, who directed the wonderful Dance of the Dead.  Now this one tells the story of redneck amateur magician Dante (the always-good Justin Welborn) who somehow gets a hold of a mysterious cloak that gives him incredible powers.  Of course, like any good boy will do, he uses them for fame and fortune.  Unfortunately, he also uses those powers to feed the beast inside the cloak.  Not tacos, sadly, but a few of his assistants.  Things come to a head when one of his assistants decides to fight back.

I'll just go ahead and say that the second entry was my favorite.  Nacho Vigalondo's "Parallel Monsters" is a seriously creepy what-if.  In this case, it's "what if you opened a portal into a parallel universe at the same time your parallel self did?"  As the protagonist explores the other world, it becomes apparent that the term "parallel" doesn't really fit.  The word should be "opposite."  I mean, really opposite.  As a huge fan of stories about parallel and alternate universes, the details really made my skin crawl.  There is a distinct "Twilight Zone" vibe to the story, but that's really what's the heart of these movies.  They're a modern-day, bloodier horror homage to Rod Serling's series.

Finally, there's "Bonestorm," which would be a freakin' AWESOME name for a metal band, about a group of delinquents filming skating videos in a place where they shouldn't.  Heading to Mexico, they accidentally disturb an evil cult's "unholy ground" and end up filming their struggle for survival.  The effects in this segment directed by Aaron Moorehead and Justin Benson are pretty snazzy and the kinetic camerawork conveys the panic of the moment.  Still, I just couldn't find any sympathy for the characters based on their mostly jerky actions throughout the setup.

I really would've like to have seen the missing segment, Todd Lincoln's "Gorgeous Vortex," which is apparently quite good based on reports of those who have seen it.  It might have tied the movie together a little more tightly.  The wraparound is on the right path here, but something is missing.  I don't know; maybe slightly more narrative or a brighter thread that weaves the stories into the same overall story.

"Parallel Monsters" was definitely my favorite of the bunch for its inherent creepiness and WTF factor. "Dante the Great" wasn't far behind simply because it's the most fun.  I wanted it to be better, and V/H/S 2 was on an uphill trajectory.  Despite being a little disappointed in this installment, I do hope the franchise continues as it is a great showcase for talent deserves a wider audience.

Now, let's see what VHS tapes I have in my storage bin...wait, I've never seen this one before...

Quarantine 2: Terminal (2011) Better Than It Should Be

By all rights, I shouldn't have enjoyed Quarantine 2:  Terminal.

It's a sequel to a remake that was virtually shot-for-shot like the original.  While I thought Quarantine was OK - it starred the phenomenal Jennifer Carpenter, after all - it weakened itself by not going with the original's ([REC]) premise of an evil force and instead going with a "super rabies" disease infection.  A sequel, by all rights, shouldn't have been good.

But it was, and I really did enjoy it.  Every so often, dear readers, the movie planets align and a sequel that shouldn't exist, not only does but does it pretty well.

Written and directed by John Pogue, the film takes place a short time after the events of the first film, in which a Los Angeles apartment building is sealed off when an infection runs rampant inside.  A variety of passengers board a plane on its way to Memphis.  After being bitten by a rat in a teacher's carry-on, one of the passengers begins to exhibit signs of infection.  When he nearly bites off an attendant's nose, it's safe to say he's on the sick side.  Making an emergency landing in Las Vegas, the survivors make it into the terminal, but it's soon quarantined (see what I did there?) and that's when the fun starts.  They not only have to evade infected staff, they have to deal with infections to each other, and a betrayal from within.  One of the survivors is not what they seem.

There's a great string of tension running through the movie, even as the sequences run toward the formulaic.  I've always said that sometimes formulaic works because the formula might be good.  You know something will happen at certain times, but in this case it's OK because it falls into place.  The added mystery that ties it to the first movie provides the underlying threat, the insinuation that no matter what happens to this motley group of survivors, the story really won't be over.

Quarantine 2:  Terminal was a pleasant surprise, and it's nice to have one of those every so often.  I'm not sure if the good luck would extend to a sequel, but hey, I'll take this one.

Hell of the Living Dead (1980) A Nostalgic Mess

Hell of the Living Dead.

Night of The Zombies.

Virus.

Zombie Inferno.

Zombi 4.

These are just some of the titles this wild mess has gone under, like a sneaky con-man sliding from alias to alias.  I can almost envision this movie sitting in a dark corner, cackling over its latest grift, looking all disheveled and wild-eyed.  It not only lifted things like incidental music - which I'll get to later - and documentary footage, but it may also steal your soul.

And yet there's an odd, nostalgic feeling to this strange movie.  As funny-awful as this movie is, there is a sense of carefree abandon about the experience.  At the time, it was certainly the goriest picture I had ever seen in my then-sixteen years.  My summers in the 80's were usually pretty fun and free-wheeling, what with no Internet and massive video games to keep me inside all the time.  Time spent indoors was either with reading, watching baseball, or watching movies I rented or borrowed.  I can remember friends of mine lending Hell of the Living Dead to me in 1984, recorded on VHS off of a movie channel which I couldn't get living in the woods.  I recall thinking to myself that I was ever quizzed on what the plot was, I'd be stumped.  But one could get extra credit in the "gratuitous cheesy gore" section of the test.

Ah, enough metaphors.

You want to know a clue that this movie is up to something?  It's co-written and co-directed by Claudio Fragasso.  You may remember him from my reviews of Troll 2 and Best Worst Movie as the director and co-writer of that vegetarian goblin cult classic.  When you see Troll 2 and you listen to his rants in Best Worst Movie, then things fall into place about Hell of the Living Dead.  It all makes sense.  Well, sort of.

Rrrrgh - I want my ICE CREAM!

Hell of the Living Dead seemed doomed from the start.  Like now, zombies were a hot commodity back in the 70's, with George A. Romero's Dawn of the Dead (released as Zombi in Italy under Dario Argento) and Lucio Fulci's Zombi 2 splattering screens in the latter part of that decade.  Italy became a breeding ground for quick, inexpensive zombie flicks, and Hell of the Living Dead was barely given a budget.  Not to mention, much of the footage shot by director Bruno Mattei (credited as Vincent Dawn) was apparently not up to snuff, so they pieced together a mish-mash of already-shot footage and clips from a documentary about native rituals.  Then there's the issue with the music.  When you pop in Hell of the Living Dead, you may see that the soundtrack is by none other than Goblin, the same group that provided the now-legendary score to the original Dawn of the Dead.  After a few minutes, you'll soon realize that not only is Goblin doing the music...it's the exact same soundtrack as Dawn of the Dead.  They didn't even bother to get new music.  Hell, Goblin apparently didn't even allow it, but hey, what's a little legal trouble to a juggernaut like this movie?

Despite what I said before, there is a plot.  An accident at a chemical plant in New Guinea lets loose a contagion that causes living things to become sadistic, flesh-eating automatons.  It also causes their faces to take on a weird shade, but that's neither here nor there.  After foiling a terrorist takeover of an embassy, a crack military unit is sent to New Guinea to find out why communications with the chemical plant have been lost.  The unit is comprised of stock characters:  the hunky hero guy, the almost-hunky guy, the crazy guy, and the goofy guy.  They meet up in a seemingly-abandoned settlement with some people trying to escape the land:  the half-tough/half-screamy woman reporter, her half-brave/half-nauseous cameraman, and a family of three with a sick child.  The settlement is a wash, as the family is slaughtered by an infected priest and their now-bitey child.  The other six take off further into the jungle, offering the reporter an excuse to suddenly remove her shirt and claim she can communicate with the indigenous people.  The dead rise at the village, so the crew must bug out again, finally stopping at a plantation in the middle of nowhere.

Why, oh, why did I wander near a window?

The plantation offers very little in the way of answers, but a whole lot in the way of infected, gore-hungry former residents.  The team's Goofy Guy is killed - wearing a dress, no less - and the team fights their way out, finally heading for the chemical plant.  Once there, they discover that the chemical was meant to be used as Third World population control, but it got out of hand.  Cameraman, Almost-Hunky Guy, and Crazy Guy are all killed before Reporter Girl and Hunky Guy meet their grisly fate in the bowels of the plant.  The epilogue shows a young couple on the toothy end of some zombies in a metropolitan city.  Dun-dun-DUUUN!

Wow, what a journey.

The expression that says, "Dude, I told you."

Let's see:  the acting is fairly average to over-the-top, thanks to the Crazy Guy.  The dubbing is tremendously awful, and the movie is such a scattershot affair that your brain will stop trying to figure it out after about ten minutes.  Possibly sooner than that.  There are plenty of chuckles and winces whenever you see the gore, and there is a lot of it.  Lacking the gritty realism of Tom Savini's special effects work, it appears as though they effects team had a ton of raw meat and, by the power of Greyskull, they were going to use it.  The ending gore is so blatantly insane, it's laughable yet memorable.  Tongue!  Eyes!  Everything!

I also love the lack of basic reasoning that takes place in the film.  Once the team figures out that to stop the creatures, they must be shot in the head, they continue to waste ammo by spraying them in every area below the head.  "They just won't stop!"

Hell of the Living Dead is just not a good movie.  And yet, somehow I've seen it four or five times.  It's like I forget how painful it is, rent it, and say to myself, "oh, yeah, now I remember."  A cult film?  One could argue that it is.  There are plenty of people who do like it.  I'm nostalgic about how I first saw it - that lazy, sunny summer day back in '84 - but beyond that, I don't think I could ever own it, ever see it being the beloved center of attention like Troll 2.

If you don't mind a meandering film with plot holes the size of Florida sinkholes that's worthy of a Mystery Science Theater 3000 or RiffTrax treatment, this is your film.  Don't take it seriously, and you may be able to have some fun with it.  It will never go down as a serious classic of the genre, yet it somehow gets noticed.  In a roundabout way, it did that one thing - getting noticed - right.

Until next time, dear readers, beware of chemical leaks. They might cause bad movies.

Troll 2 (1990) It's...It's Like A Gift (plus a bonus review)

There comes a film.

There comes a film each generation that...simply defies logic.  It transcends the simple words "good" or "bad."  Its very existence beckons you to judge it, then spits Gatorade in your face before cartwheeling away.  You're left confused, bewildered, somewhere between horrified and amused, and smelling of lemon-lime.

This, my friends...this is the magical experience that is Troll 2.

I...I almost don't know where to start.  First off, its name implies a sequel.  It is nothing of the sort.  In fact, and this is not a spoiler (spoilers just don't even apply to this thing), there isn't a troll to be found in Troll 2.  Saying you have to see Troll before Troll 2 is like saying you have to eat a Filet-O-Fish before you eat a bag of Skittles.  Does that make sense?  Of course not.  Nothing about this movie does.

It's an Italian film made in rural Utah, directed by the one-of-a-kind Claudio Fragasso (under the name Drake Floyd) and written by Fragasso and his wife, Rosella Drudi.  Fragasso used to write along with Bruno Mattei in such films as the wildly awful-good Hell of the Living Dead (aka Night of the Zombies), and then directed his own fare, such as the strange 80's Alice Cooper vehicle, Monster Dog.  To understand the mind of Fragasso is one of life's grand mysteries.  He considers Troll 2 to be a social commentary masterpiece.

Anyway, the story goes that a bunch of weekend actors showed up at auditions hoping to be extras and were cast as the main characters.  People hoping to be in the next blockbuster, hoping to get their acting careers off the ground, honestly trying to just make it.  Little did they know what they were in for then, and little did they know how some 20 years later, what they were in for in an insanely different direction.

So there is a plot, so let's get right to it.  The Waits, a nice suburban family, have decided to vacation in sunny Nilbog, a remote rural town in the middle of nowhere.  They're exchanging houses...wait...exchanging houses?  Okay...wait...yeah, exchanging houses with a Nilbog family.  Wow.  Along for the ride, sort of, is daughter Holly's boyfriend, Elliot, and his three buddies as they tag along in an RV.  Because RV's were considered cool in the late 80's.

"You can't piss on hospitality!"

Oh, one thing I should mention is that the youngest Waits, Joshua, has regular conversations with his late Grandpa Seth, who was incidentally wise to the ways of magic.  The Astounding Seth, who's sort of a cross between Doctor Strange and Burl Ives, warns Joshua that he must convince his family to leave Nilbog by any means necessary.  Even if it means stopping time so Joshua can position himself to pee all over the food the previous family left, leading to the infamous "you don't piss on hospitality" monologue by papa Michael.  But that urinary spritzer did postpone what the nefarious townspeople have in store for the Waits:  they're really a town full of goblins (Nilbog = goblin...get it?) who are...steady yourself...vegetarian goblins.  The tainted food will magically turn the humans into plants so they can be eaten.  Yeah, you read that right.

Meanwhile, one of Elliot's buddies, Arnold, ventures out and runs into a woman trying to escape a mob of veggie goblins.  After a nasty run-in with the darling little scamps, they make their way to an old house/church where they meet the delightfully wacky druid queen, Creedence Leonore Gielgud, whose monologues ooze with villainous relish.  Some bizarre hospitality later, and the damsel-in-distress is a puddle of chlorophyll goo and a gaggle of goblins is chowing down on her, forcing Arnold to utter - nay, say loudly - the now-infamous "Oh, my God!" line.

"Oh, my GOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDD!"  And yes, that's a scene-stealing fly on his forehead.

Some time later, another of Elliot's buddies, Drew, goes off in search of the town, where he meets some awfully friendly and interesting residents, like the store owner, played by a legitimate patient from a nearby mental hospital.  The store has no meaty foods, but lots of creepy milk.  Drew takes off, but since he has eaten something from the town, he gets fatigued and his shirt magically changes.  Seriously, watch for it.  Before long, Drew stumbles across the same house/church and sees his friend now literally a potted plant.  Most people would probably point, laugh hysterically, and say "Dude!" but Drew tries in vain to drag Arnold out but Creedence rears her verbose head once again.

Hilariously, Grandpa Seth's ghostly head appears to Holly in a "oops, wrong room" moment and later warns Joshua to seriously get the family out of there.  Joshua destroys all the food in a non-urinary way and must later accompany his father to town to hopefully buy more of what passes for food in Nilbog.  While there, he meets the lovely congregation, led by a preacher who looks like Kalibak from Jack Kirby's Fourth World saga from DC Comics...oops, sorry, crossing the streams here.

Kalibak, as created by the honest-to-God genius that was Jack Kirby.

Only now does Poppa Waits start to suspect something's not quite right in Nilbog.  Joshua already had it confirmed when he saw the name of the town reflected in a mirror.  Go ahead, you try it.  When they return home, the entire town is there to greet them with a party of whimsy and vegetable dishes.  Joshua freaks and tries to call Seth but is attacked by Creedence in her less-Tim-Burton-y goblin form.  Wizard Seth shows up, lops off Creedence's hand, and chases her away before instructing Joshua on the fine art of making a Molotov cocktail.  After a little scuffle, the Kalibak-like preacher is killed in the ensuing magic battle, reverting to his own goblin form...finally convincing the family that hm, something's up.  They hole up in the house and try to ride out Hurricane Nilbog.  Oh, yeah, forgot to mention Elliot's with them now.  Why bother with details?

Elliot's last surviving buddy, Brent, has the most un-sexual sexual encounter with Creedence, who puts on her best face and black stockings, and seduces him with an ear of corn.

AN EAR OF CORN!

Kind of like 9 1/2 Weeks, only wackier.

They kiss and popcorn explodes everywhere.  It sounds like a dream I once had.  With Brent now trapped, Creedence can join her little helpers in capturing the Waits, who have summoned The Stupendous Seth with a seance.  Seth is able to pass him an all-important bag that apparently has an "ultimate weapon" in it.  Joshua shows up at Creedence's pad and touches the piece of Stonehenge that provides her power.  Then, with goblins closing in, he reveals the secret weapon:

A BALONEY SANDWICH!

They're vegetarian goblins, remember?  They can't eat meat, so Joshua chows down, chasing off his pursuers.  The Waits and Elliot escape Nilbog and return home for one of those "or is it?" endings that you can file under "funny" and "say what?".

And...scene.

I wanted to stand up and applaud as the end credits ran.  I don't know why.  By all rights, this movie should have made even one of my even temper angry.  But I wasn't angry.  I was astounded at the pure audacity of the movie.  The moxie, if you will.  It shouldn't exist.  But it does.  And it does so with renewed energy.  Though it was released in 1990, it has that distinct 80's "let's make a movie" straight-to-video spirit.  You can't help but chuckle at the script, the delivery of the lines, the "one take is good enough" acting, the costumes, the sets, the evaporation of logic, and priceless presentation.  Troll 2 is now an icon of anti-cinema, beloved for its badness.  And it's something everyone should experience once in their lives.

Now, I alluded to a bonus review.  You can't see Troll 2 without seeing the documentary Best Worst Movie. Released in 2009, nearly 20 years after its magical subject, Best Worst Movie lovingly looks back at Troll 2, headed up by someone who knows the film better than most:  Michael Stephenson, who played young Joshua.  He set out to document the phenomenon of a film considered so incredibly bad, yet finding its cult audience many years later.  He also set out to reconnect with other stars of the film, with some results proving fun and positive, to others revealing a touch of sadness.

The film documents how modern audiences have grown to accept just how bad the film is, and yet love it anyway.  It shows Troll 2 viewings across the nation, from a traveling exhibit by the Alamo Drafthouse to small gatherings to a reunion set up by the Upright Citizens Brigade comedy troupe in New York City.  One of the highlights of the film is surely Alabama dentist George Hardy, who played the father in the film.  He's gone on to be a successful, beloved member of his community and has an undeniable charisma and likeability about him.  Never bitter about the experience, he does grow tired of the attention...but only just a little.  On the other end of the spectrum, Margo Prey (the mother) and Robert Ormsby (Grandpa Seth) seem overwhelmed and lonely in their lives, despite the good memories of working on the film.  Somewhere in the middle, with feelings of happiness and bitterness mixed with some delusion, is director Claudio Fragasso.  He truly believes the film is a masterpiece of social commentary and a true cinematic classic.  Perhaps he's a mad genius all along?

Along with some lovely goblins, you see Robert Ormsby (Seth), George Hardy (Michael Waits), and Michael Stephenson (Joshua Waits).

Best Worst Movie is an interesting and entertaining - and quite positive - companion piece to Troll 2.  Watch one...recover...then watch the other for a well-rounded dip into the wackiness of cult movies, Italian filmmaking, post-80's direct-to-video, and wild cinema abandon.

And if you go to the town of Nilbog, just pack a few baloney sandwiches, and you'll be okay.

Phantasm (1979) I Love Your Free-Wheelin' 70's Ways

Right around the summer of 1980, I remember my cousin Scott excitedly telling me about this weird movie he somehow saw late at night. We were 13, and it's not like we were allowed to watch anything we wanted yet, so this rebellious tale intrigued me. He told me of a movie unlike anything he'd ever seen: Phantasm. It had, according to my cousin, "this tall, weird guy who's strong...and his finger gets cut off, but it's still alive...oh, and there's this ball with knives in it and it kills a guy...and people crushed down to midget size...and then the weird guy comes through the mirror!"

I thought he was making it up.

As I would discover in my journeys growing up, it turns out he didn't make it up. It is a real film, indeed. Made in 1977 and released in 1979, it is writer/director Don Coscarelli's first great tribute to cult films. He would make splashes throughout his career with cult classics like Beastmaster and Bubba Ho-Tep, as well as contributing a strong entry to the Masters of Horror series with Incident On and Off A Mountain Road. There's a free-wheeling creative energy to Coscarelli's films, and Phantasm is where I believe the ball started rolling.





To properly summarize Phantasm isn't a straightforward task. Its plot doesn't meander so much as it runs laughing, sometimes hitting walls, then proceeding to scamper in another direction, giggling with glee. This is a complaint by many, an endearing trait to others. As for my opinion, I found it fun because sometimes in life, it's OK to run flailing and laughing into walls.

Basically, it goes a little like this: Jody and Michael's brother Tommy is murdered by a mysterious person in the graveyard of the local mortuary. Jody wants to leave, but finds himself forced to care for his teenage brother. Michael, still hurting from the loss of their parents, is terrified of Jody leaving. When he spies the incredibly imposing Tall Man (the legendary Angus Scrimm) removing Tommy's coffin from the fresh grave, he pleads with Jody to investigate. Turns out people have been disappearing from the town for years, and the Tall Man and his house are at the center of it. Things get stranger and stranger, with hooded dwarves making periodic attacks on the two. Aided by their friend, groovy ice cream vendor Reggie (who becomes a bit of a randy, accidentally-indestructible action hero in his own right through the series), Jody and Michael enter the house to stop The Tall Man once and for all in a brouhaha that includes killer dwarf slaves, the Tall Man's gender-switching shapeshifter abilities, and gateways to other worlds.

If you cherish cult films as much as I do, you really should see Phantasm. It's not made on a huge budget and the acting is often unintentionally hilarious, but one can't fault a film that not only tries, but is perfectly comfortable in its own celluloid skin. Long-time readers know I like a film that has energy and a bit of a swagger (see my review of Equinox). Phantasm has that, and still resonates to this day. This film put Angus Scrimm on the map, and he is now undeniably a horror film icon - rightfully so, as his scenes are genuinely creepy and performed with confident presence. The musical score stands out, very John Carpenter-esque in its minimalistic approach, which lends to branding certain scenes with a certain mood.

Phantasm is pure, popcorn fun, taking me back to my youth, an early-80's kid just getting his feet wet in the horror genre, listening with a rapid heartbeat hammering in my ears to anyone who would tell me the synopsis of the latest "forbidden fruit," be it Phantasm or some years later, the classic Evil Dead. No Internet back then - word of mouth, trial and error at the local video store (miss you sometimes, VHS) and eventually Fangoria were the only ways I could get my horror movie interest stoked.

Enjoy, and remember to duck:

Ink (2009) Creativity Isn't Dead

Several months ago, my friend and fellow horror blogger Andre from The Horror Digest recommended a slew of movies to me. From the visceral Martyrs to the emotional suspense of I'm Not Scared, she batted 1.000 with them. 2009's Ink was among those recommended, but it got shuffled around on my Netflix queue to the point where I was surprised to see it turn up in my mailbox. I've got to manage that list a little more closely.

Because I should've watched this sooner.

Ink, written and directed by Jamin Winans, is a study in how to weave a powerful tale - a fable in this case - without the benefit of an enormous budget. It wrote its own rules. It was not afraid of its own imagination. And yes, although there are jump cuts, rapid-fire visual tricks, and echoes of The Matrix (among some other distant relatives), it's what was at the heart of the film that moved me. That's it. This film had serious heart.

I can't really provide a detailed synopsis for Ink. To do so would be to spoil certain story elements that you really need to experience for yourself. I can tell you this much: after a tender prelude that actually begins with a jarring car accident, we meet little Emma who is watched over - like everyone - by The Storytellers, people who live on an astral plane and who provide the good dreams people have. Their opposites, the creepy Incubi, cast shadows that bring the nightmares. A misshapen, monstrous man covered in chains and cloaks - who we find later is the titular character, Ink - arrives and kidnaps Emma's astral form from her bedroom. Despite the warrior efforts of Allel, Gabe, and Sarah - the Storytellers assigned to Emma - Ink makes off with the girl in an attempt to bring her to the leader of the Incubi. Ink wants to become one of them, and must help sacrifice the girl, but a small drum he uses to open "doors" to other places is broken, and he must take the long road with Emma and soon another Storyteller, the legendary Liev. Meanwhile, Allel, Gabe, Sarah, and the somewhat-insane blind Pathfinder named Jacob must formulate a plan to reunite Emma with her emotionally distant (and for what he believes is a good reason), somewhat douche-y father, John, the man from the short prologue.


With all of these strings in motion, the film heads toward a conclusion full of action and revelations, punctuated by a lesson. The journey is beautiful. Music swells and weaves during the thoughtful and the action-packed scenes. Visually, shots are set up to frame not just the disorientation of the adventure, but the characters and their outward emotions. Settings and even the effects just look different. Plus, what you find out at the end of the journey is worth every second it took to get there. I like stories that step outside of linear narrative to push and pull reality like taffy. More subtle than most, Ink brings it all home with a climax that's emotional and exciting, packing two punches instead of one. There's that lesson, and it rings true for all of us: what is important in your life and is your anger or guilt sending you on a downward spiral? What can you do to - as Jacob says - "stop the flow"?

Ink is not really horror, although the Incubi are creepy beyond creepy, but I honestly wanted to include this on my blog and spread the word of a low-budget independent film that was a labor of love and I'm sure not easy to distribute. But once it was out there, peer-to-peer sharing (normally illegal, but encouraged by the filmmakers) and word-of-mouth hurtled this little film that could to cult status. I've seen it classified as science fiction, but that genre doesn't fit it either. Fantasy works, and I like the description of "dark fable."


And, oh, the details. Little things I noticed here and there. Among other things, when you see this movie, look for these:

* How the Storytellers appear in our world, like flashes of fireflies or cameras. Sweet little detail.

* How the real world "repairs" itself during a fight scene between Ink and The Storytellers. I love how there's NO evidence that there are forces battling for Emma because the physical world "rights" itself when the astral world makes an impact.

* The straight creepy visual of the Incubi: screens in front of their faces that magnify and distort their expressions, coupled with visual "interference." They rarely speak, but do in hushed tones like a team of conceptual Iagos (woo! Othello reference!).

* Jacob's demonstration of how he listens to the rhythm of the world, and how he can influence it to set in motion something that is designed - no matter how brutal - to help reunite John with his comatose daughter. The music and the cause-and-effect "dance" make for a beautiful scene.

* A single tear running down a certain character's face towards the end, along with the revelation of what has been happening. It's sudden, and it makes sense.

Ink moved me, pure and simple. Many movies claim to be "feel-good" movies, but this one really earned that stripe. It may not be scary, and it may not be disturbing, and it may not be shocking, but once in a while, it's nice to come away from a movie feeling like you really want to smile. And then dream some more.

Watch it. Enjoy. I hope you get the same out of it as I did. Take a peek at the well-done trailer for a glimpse:



Oh! And a quick, unrelated note: I was graciously invited by Nate Yapp of Classic-Horror.com and my good buddy B-sol of The Vault of Horror to contribute to the movie blog, Cinema Geek. I was honored and quickly accepted, so head over there to see articles by yours truly, as well as some of the other great writers from the horror blog community, about movies other than horror.

Until next time, my fellow survivors, sweet dreams...don't let the Incubi give you nightmares.

Death Bed: The Bed That Eats (1977-ish) Wait, What?

I almost didn't have any words for this movie. At first glance, it appears to be a knowing-wink kind of thing. You know, tongue-in-cheek and full of wry, subtle in-jokes. I mean, a film about a bed. An evil bed that eats people. Why didn't I think of that? Then, I experienced it. And I wished to all that is holy that the trusty crew of Mystery Science Theater 3000 had been there to hold my hand through the syrupy, surreal morsel of oddball that is Death Bed: The Bed That Eats.

At least we got one of those nifty title cards.

A film that - like its narrator - sat in limbo for about 25 years before its official release in 2003, Death Bed is a strange neo-art-horror-camp-comedy-experimental piece written, produced, directed, and eventually forgotten by George Barry. It gained cult status through pirated videotapes and mentions by comedian Patton Oswalt, the "fame" seemingly a surprise to Barry himself. But, hey, I'd be pleasantly surprised, too, if a film I made then forgot about gained notoriety.

And oh, what a film.

Let me tell you a little something about how it all goes down. The epilogue, or "breakfast" (seriously, a graphic tells us just that), shows an amorous couple sneaking into the tomb-like room where the bed resides. Where the bed is sleeping...and snoring. The ghost of an emo artist is trapped behind one of his own drawings of the bed, and he conveniently narrates the procedures for us. The couple get busy on the bed, which sneaks a bite of their apple, drinks their wine, and...seriously...polishes off their bucket of fried chicken. Then, it moves on to the couple, pulling them into its oddly green pool of digestive juices. We know it's eating them because we hear eating noises. Funny how everything it eats sounds like it's made of apples.

The bed in question.

The narrator fills us in on his relationship with the bed while it dreams of eating people in a city, as told by the ol' spinning newspaper. Several years pass, and a trio of ladies arrive at the house to check it out for a lawyer friend of one of the women. I would say that one, Diane, is headstrong, that another, Sharon, is her good friend, and the last, Suzan, is mousy and insecure. I would say that, but character development and acting aren't around to make it easier. Suzan is left alone to get some rest, but falls victim to the bed. The others discover her missing, and the bed reacts harshly to the presence of Sharon. When the ladies leave to look for their friend, the bed pulls in Suzan's suitcase and yes...wait for it...drinks the Pepto-Bismol.

Yes. The bed that drinks Pepto-Bismol.

A lot of the bed's history is revealed, especially that it had multiple owners, including a gangster (whose gun sounds like it's firing, but looks like a toy), a "sexual therpist" whose orgy kept the bed full for a long time, and the artist himself, who had consumption, which he theorizes is why the bed "rejected" him. The bed's origin ties in with why it is so affected by Sharon. Seems a woman was seduced by a demon who created the bed, but died. In his strange grief, the demon cried blood and the tears possessed the bed. Sharon has eyes just like that woman, who lies in perfect shape in her grave on the property. Yep, you heard all that right.

One of the random objects the bed likes to snack upon.

When Sharon goes for help, Diane decides on a nap. After a bizarre dream, she tries to get up, but is pulled in by the bed. She is able to escape, but her bloody legs are useless. And thus begins one of the longest several minutes you will ever experience. Diane drags herself to the door, and we are there to witness every last second of it. A sloth on Robitussin would've lapped this scene twice before it ended. The bed pulls a "haha, psych" and pulls Diane back with a well-tossed bedsheet. Sharon returns just in time to see this happen, and her mind goes bye-bye.

Longest. Crawl. Ever.

Through this whole movie, 70's singer Leo Sayer Sharon's unnamed brother searches for and eventually finds Sharon curled up in the bed's room, afraid to leave and probably hearing calliope music in her mushy mind. The bed taunts them with strange sounds and random eyeballs, leading the brother to attempt stabbing the bed. In my favorite scene of this thing, the bed spits the knife out and consumes everything but the bones of the guy's hands. When he settles down to stare at his hands, his reaction is...well...underwhelming. Almost as if he were to say, "Huh. Skeleton hands."

"That's strange. Skeleton hands. Hm. Did I leave the stove on?"

That was the best. Well, moving on, the artist had said when the original demon sleeps every ten years, the bed will be vulnerable. He instructs Sharon to build a ritual circle to transport the bed to another circle, which will also awaken the bed's original "mother." Sharon must die for this to happen, though. The re-animated woman then "couples" with the handless brother to close the circle and the bed is destroyed.

What a ride. Like trying to race a Hoveround on its lowest setting through mud. The pacing of this movie only moved due the advancement of time, not any plot or acting. Every second of that slow time that passed, I could hear Crow T. Robot in my head, lampooning each scene. It was the only way I could maintain my sanity, and there's very little of that left. Still, the film has just enough charm to become something of a more recent Rocky Horror Picture Show. Somebody out there, please make that happen.

Until next time, folks, sleep comfortably on your beds tonight and have as much fried chicken, wine, and apples you want.

The Monster Squad (1987) His Name Is Horace!

There's that term we're all familiar with as movie fans: "feel good movie." It's usually reserved for inspirational movies mass-produced by Disney or romantic comedies that feature at least one montage showcasing a modern indie ballad. For me, a "feel good movie" is one that gets me to smile, maybe gets me to reminisce a little about good times in my life. 1987 was a good time. I was in college for the first time, at Central Michigan University. I wasn't balancing my studying time versus my partying time very well, but I was in the midst of the heady 80's decade and enjoying my blossoming social life.

1987 was also the year that The Monster Squad came out. I remember seeing it a couple years later, but it must have been late night or right after a party, because I only recalled very small snippets of it. I've been meaning to revisit it for years now, and finally I couldn't wait any longer. Some things age well with time. The Monster Squad is one of them.

Seems 100 years ago, Abraham Van Helsing had one climactic battle with Count Dracula (a hell of a performance by Duncan Regehr) over the fate of the world. During the skirmish, Van Helsing opens up a portal in the hopes that Dracula and his allies of evil will be sucked into a limbo dimension. In the words of the prologue script, he and his good allies "blew it."

Dracula arrives in modern times along with The Gill Man (think Creature of the Black Lagoon), The Mummy, and Frankenstein's Monster (the wonderful Tom Noonan, who plays outright evil in Manhunter and The House of the Devil). He also enlists the help of The Wolf Man (played by Jonathan Gries - Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite - in his human form). His plan: obtain the amulet of concentrated good hidden by Van Helsing so that when the clock strikes midnight, he will be in a position to rule the world.

Enter The Monster Squad. Think The Goonies, but with fouler mouths. Led by Sean (Andre Gower), it's made up of smart-ass Patrick (Robby Kiger), bully target Horace a.k.a. "Fat Kid" (Brent Chalem), youngest member Eugene (Michael Faustino), and newest member, tough kid Rudy (Ryan Lambert, looking like a young Adrian Zmed). Sean's little sister Phoebe tags along, and eventually earns membership in a big way. These guys are convinced that monsters exist, and when Van Helsing's diary falls into Sean's lap, things get dangerous for the club. Dracula sends Frankenstein's Monster after the kids, but the big lug befriends Phoebe and finds himself - for the first time in his artificial life - accepted as a real friend by people who should fear him.

Sean and Patrick enlist the help of "Scary German Guy" (character actor Leonardo Cimino), a neighborhood recluse who the kids all fear, to read the German notes in Van Helsing's diary. Scary German Guy turns out to be a sweet old man who "knows something about monsters," as his concentration camp tattoo reveals. The amulet is vulnerable that very night at midnight, and by destroying it, Dracula will inherit the world. But performing a ritual, read by a virgin, the portal to limbo will open, pulling in all the monsters.

The race is on, as Sean gets his hands on the amulet, but is pursued by Dracula and his remaining evil friends. "Frank" is taken out by a collapsing roof, and Scary German Guy helps speed the getaway. But Dracula terrorizes Sean's family, destroying the clubhouse and blowing up Sean's father's police partner. The climax is one of the most enjoyable portions of the entire movie, a well-choreographed battle in the middle of town. Everybody gets their moment, like Rudy's showdown with Wolf Man and Dracula's brides, and Sean teaming with his father against the aforementioned lycanthrope. But the moment that made me smile belonged to Horace. Desperately seeking a weapon to use against the advancing Gill Man, and getting no help from bullies E.J. (Jason Hervey of The Wonder Years) and Derek (Adam Carl), Horace picks up a shotgun and shakily - but effectively - kills the Gill Man. When E.J. congratulates him, still calling him "Fat Kid," Horace cocks the gun. "My name...is Horace!"

Friggin' awesome.


When Plan A goes wrong - having Patrick's older sister who claims to be a virgin read the incantation - the Squad takes a chance by having little Phoebe read it. It works, and the portal opens, taking a still-fighting Dracula with it. Sadly, it also takes Frankenstein's Monster, which brings tears to little Phoebe's eyes. Finally, when the Army arrives - summoned by an innocent note sent by Eugene - the Squad proudly announces their presence. It is they who have defeated the monsters.

Naturally, any movie with kids embarking on a bigger-than-life adventure is going to be compared to The Goonies. There are some similarities, but you won't find two more different movies. The Goonies has no trace of the supernatural, but The Monster Squad is full of magic and monsters. Both movies have characters with distinct traits, but the Squad kids are more streetwise, and aren't afraid to say what's on their mind - tad bit more swearing among those fellas.

The Monster Squad is just damn good fun. The script pops with some real gems, and although the story is basic, it's dressed up in its finest Ray Bans and pastels. These monsters don't fool around, and there is a big body count by the time the battle's done. Director Fred Dekker (Night of the Creeps) moves the film along with a great love for the material, and there are some great quotes in that script by Shane Black and Dekker.

Horace: Wolf Man's got NARDS!

Many of my peers love this movie, and I can very safely say it now comes highly recommended by yours truly. It's going to make a fine addition to my collection when I get a little more cash in my pocket. Good, old-school 80's fun - political correctness be damned in some cases - with a flair for adventure and touches of comedy and warmth. Want a good time? See The Monster Squad right away.

Me? I might hire those kids to take care of my zombie problem.

Stay safe, friends, until next time...and enjoy some clips from this fine flick:

Trilogy of Terror (1975) Bonus Roots of Personal Horror

Not only is this a movie review, but it's also another in my series of blogs about how certain things have affected me throughout my life in terms of horror - my Roots of Personal Horror entries. There's only been one other entry so far, but hey, now it's a series.

It's March, 1975. I'm in first grade, and I'll be eight in July. It's a northern Michigan twilight between winter and spring. I'm at my buddy Todd's house for a sleepover when I catch a glimpse of something in a TV Guide. It's something horrible, something wretchedly terrifying to a kid. It's this handsome fellow:



Yeah, that's right. The Zuni fetish doll from the 1975 cult classic TV movie, Trilogy of Terror. My little brain, despite the presence of superheroes and dinosaurs, was absolutely sure this toothy little guy was going to sneak into where I was sleeping at Todd's house and start stabbing me. I was positive that's what was going to happen. I couldn't sleep and when I dozed, there he was, whirling through my half-awake dreams. I did the only thing I thought I could do: I screamed like a banshee-in-training. Still a blur, but I think I calmed down eventually but I would have nothing to do with that little Zuni joker. I refused to look at picture of it for years. Even now, about 36 years later, I still hear the ghost of my seven-year-old self whimpering when I see a freeze-frame of "He Who Kills."

It occurred to me that I had never actually watched Trilogy of Terror. I should have by now. I mean, the trailer for Dawn of the Dead frightened me in 1978, and I faced that (obviously). The voice of little possessed Regan in The Exorcist made me cold with terror when it aired on broadcast TV, but I eventually faced that one down, too. Yet Trilogy of Terror eluded me.

No longer, dear readers. I pushed this baby to the top of my Netflix queue and it is now viewing history. And allow me to say this: it was worth the wait.



You know when a movie starts off with a title card over the actual film itself, it's scoring points in my book. Barely a few minutes into it, and the movie is already in the plus column. Did I mention that the three stories are based on the writings of the legendary Richard Matheson? Oh, and did I mention that the top star of each piece of the trilogy is the beautiful and talented Karen Black? And, oh, did I mention that Trilogy of Terror is directed by Dan Curtis, who helped bring the iconic gothic soap Dark Shadows to the viewing public, and who introduced us to the wily Carl Kolchak (Darren McGavin) in The Night Stalker, AND who directed the cult classic Burnt Offerings? Yeah...seriously winning points with me here.

Before jumping in, I'll warn you of spoiler material and black out the revealing sentences - highlight them if you want to take a sneaky peek.

The first story in Trilogy of Terror is "Julie," and if you look at the title card picture above, you'll see the characters Chad (the "douche") and Eddie (the "you'd-better-not-do-that sensible friend"). Chad is a privileged horndog who bets his friend he can bed their stuffy literature teacher, the titular Julie Eldrich. Chad makes advances and invites Julie to a drive-in to catch a horror film (actually clips of Night Stalker). He drugs her and brings her to a motel, where he takes provocative and - it's suggested - overtly sexual pictures of the unconscious teacher. Chad blackmails Julie into a dominant relationship that reeks of his misogynistic, douchebaggish stink. He even has a sneer. Perfect casting. I mean, Robert Burton (Black's real-life husband at the time) really nailed it.

It doesn't turn out well for Chad, though. SPOILER: Turns out Julie had been manipulating him the whole time, and she may or may not be a witch who derives pleasure from her own fear of the men in her life. When she no longer feels fear, she gets bored, and the boys get dead. She poisons Chad (great choking scene, too, by the way) and burns down his house. When the segments ends, she's meeting a new, handsome young man (Gregory Harrison in a small role) who just glows with the aura of a soon-to-be-dead-meat fellow.

The second story is called "Millicent and Therese." Black plays polar opposites in twin sisters, the prudish Millicent and the vivacious Therese. Millicent hates her twin, sure that she seduced their father and caused their mother's death. She's positive that Therese is a devil-worshipper and sex freak, and she may be right. Millicent keeps a diary of her observations, and she fears she may have to kill Therese at some point. Therese tries to seduce Dr. Ramsey (George Gaynes of the Police Academy movies), but he resists somehow. Millicent decides to kill Therese with her own black magic, and is successful in a way because...SPOILER: Millicent and Therese are one and the same, as Millicent suffers from dual personality syndrome.

The third segment, "Amelia," is the drawing power of Trilogy of Terror. Amelia, who's subletting a high-rise apartment, tries to have a social life despite being under the thumb of her domineering mother. She buys a gift for her anthropologist boyfriend: a Zuni fetish doll called "He Who Kills." You know what he looks like. I don't need to describe him. But beware, because if that gold chain is removed from his body, he'll come to life and...uh-oh, it just fell off and Amelia didn't notice.

Amelia hears little noises here and there, and sees no sign of He Who Kills, until she experiences a slight stabbing around her ankles. There's the little guy, poking her feet with a kitchen knife. He Who Kills is like a homicidal blend of the Tasmanian Devil and a Gremlin, frenetically chasing Amelia around the apartment, stabbing and cutting through everything. She tries drowning him and trapping him, to no avail.

After HWK gets all bitey, Amelia manages to throw him into an already-on oven, burning him to a wildly flailing little crisp. Amelia opens the oven to investigate the burning-Zuni-doll progress and freaks out. She apparently calms down enough to call her mother and invite her over. Amelia then crouches down - and you know it ain't good - and begins stabbing the carpet over and over before smiling...SPOILER: revealing a mouthful of thin, sharp teeth, just like that of the Zuni doll.

*shiver*

I made it through without screaming, but damn if I didn't feel that little crawl in the back of my neck, that slight shiver in the spine. It was 1975 all over again, only this time, I loved it.

Trilogy of Terror wasn't as hokey as I'd expected, and that's OK. Karen Black is tremendous, showing great range as each lead character. They're rich characters as well, and we get decent backstories for most of everyone who has a speaking part. The weakest segment for me was the middle one. It had an ending you could see a mile away, but it was still enjoyable. Of course, my favorite segment is the one that gave me nightmares oh, so long ago. It's taut and terrifying, and the relentless image of that doll shaking and flailing in murderous rage is unforgettable and scary as hell, even in this jaded day and age.

As for He Who Kills, who knew that one day, I could purchase him for myself years later if I'd wanted at Chiller Theater.



I didn't buy him, of course. I was too scared.

Until next time, fellow survivors, don't remove any gold chains from your kids' dolls. You know, just to be safe.