A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

This is just about the funniest damn thing I've seen in awhile, as well as the most clever. It's the winning entry in a contest open to film editors' assistants held by the New York chapter of the Association of Independent Creative Editors. The objective was to take a real film, in this case Stanley Kubrick's classic The Shining, and make a new trailer for it but in a completely different genre. The result of Mr. Ryang's endeavor is simply brilliant:

http://www.ps260.com/molly/SHINING%20FINAL.mov

You can read more about this story here and here. And yes, I realize that this story has been floating around for awhile, but then . . . so have I.

Like Love, Only More So: The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh (1971)

And man, what a vice. Sultry euro-starlet Edwige Fenech (All the Colors of the Dark, The Case of the Bloody Iris, Your Vice Is a Closed Room and Only I Have the Key) stars as a businessman’s wife who accompanies her boring husband to Vienna so that he can conduct his dreary financial affairs with other boring businessmen. So what’s a luscious, vivacious sexpot to do? Why, conduct an affair of her own, of course. Unfortunately, Mrs. Wardh has a suppressed hunger for violent sex—hence the title--and the volatile men who can give it to her. And one of her ex-paramours still carries a flame for her. Too bad he may also be a psychopathic killer. This stylish, ruthless, and seductively enticing psychological thriller is pure entertainment for fans of the Italian giallo genre. Director Sergio Martino (All the Colors of the Dark, Violent Professionals, Torso) keeps the pace moving, the murders plentiful, and the convoluted plot twists and red herrings overflowing in psychedelic splendor. The film also stars George Hilton (who made several films with Fenech) as a sleazy lothario bent on troubling Fenech’s waters. In other words, it’s a certified classic of the genre.

More Fenech and gialli to come . . . .

The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh is available on DVD from NoShame Films.

A Humble Confession

I told myself I wasn’t going to do it. I told myself I was never going to give George Lucas another damned dollar and that he had ruined the Star Wars franchise after the abysmal, craptacular entries The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones. Hell, I didn’t even like Return of the Jedi when it originally came out and it was only years later that I sort of came to terms with its childish entertainment value. But I have to humbly admit that I was wrong about Revenge of the Sith.

It was awesome.

A couple of nights ago I finally sat my ass down to watch it on DVD. Strangely, I was looking forward to suffering through it. Perhaps I simply wanted to get it out of the way and feel superior to it, brag to my friends that I had witnessed yet another shitty film by Lucas and that I had been right all along—he was a hack and a fraud. Well, he may not be the best director around and he’s certainly not a good writer (but we’ve all known that for decades, right?), but damn if he didn’t pull out all the stops with this presumably final and certainly important film in the series. I won’t bore you with reviewing it—most of you have already seen it and have chosen sides—but I just want to publicly confess to those friends who were urging me to see it and who insisted that it was not a waste of time. You were right. And for the first time since Return of the Jedi, Lucas actually made a Star Wars film that felt like a real goddamn Star Wars film. Who knew he still had it in him?

Then again, perhaps it was the bottle of wine that helped me through it.

Robert Sheckley 1928-2005

American science fiction writer Robert Sheckley died this morning in Poughkeepsie, New York. He was 77 years of age. Sheckley began his long career back in the 1950s writing for a host of pulp magazines, and later in the 1960s mostly for Galaxy Science Fiction magazine. His work was notable for its humor, wit, and intelligence. Sheckley lived for many years here in Portland and came into the bookstore a couple of times, but I never had the guts to talk with him. My loss.

Sarah Silverman

We don't always get a lot of laughs around Nightmare Town. But when we do laugh . . . we like it black. Man, Silverman creeps me out with her straight-faced comic delivery. But in a good way. Jesus is Magic is opening in town on Friday at Cinema 21 and I'll be sure to check it out. Who says irony is dead?

The Midnight Eye Guide to New Japanese Film by Tom Mes and Jasper Sharp

Tom Mes’ and Jasper Sharp’s splendid book, The Midnight Eye Guide to New Japanese Film, is a much needed and worthwhile contribution to the ever-growing list of review guides and in-depth studies pertaining to contemporary Asian films. Mes and Sharp are longtime aficionados of Asian films, especially Japanese productions, and are co-editors of the highly informative and useful web site MidnightEye.com, which focuses on the good, the bad, and the ugly of contemporary Japanese cinema.

But if you’re worried that the book is simply a hardcopy version of the web site’s free content, you can rest assure that the online version of Midnight Eye is only a springboard for what’s contained in the book version. As stated in the book’s introduction, the authors’ intentions were to write a book centering on the leading Japanese filmmakers of the day, explore their signature work more closely, and try to put into historical context films that have been largely ignored by the West. An ambitious task to say the least, but it succeeds on nearly every level. The only real complaint is that plenty of the films discussed are simply not available outside of Japan, and if you are able to acquire a non-English subtitled Japanese DVD or videotape from a retailer located there or Europe, it’s going to cost you, my friend—big time. But that’s hardly the authors’ fault, especially considering that with the advent of more and more people owning all-region DVD players and the proliferation of online web sites catering to the rich tastes of worldly cineastes, the benefits of a specialized guide such as this clearly outweigh the frustrating drawbacks.

The book profiles many of the international film festival heavyweights of Japanese film, such as Seijun Suzuki (Kanto Wanderer, Tokyo Drifter, Branded to Kill), Kinji Fukasaku (Black Lizard, Battles Without Honor and Humanity, Battle Royale), Shohei Imamura (Eijanaika, The Eel), Kiyoshi Kurosawa (Cure, Charisma, Bright Future), Isao Takahata and Hayao Miyazaki of Studio Ghibli fame (Grave of the Fireflies and Porco Rosso respectively), Shinya Tsukamoto (Tetsuo: The Iron Man, Tokyo Fist), Takeshi Kitano (Violent Cop, Sonatine, Hana-Bi), Takashi Miike (Bird People in China, Audition, Ichi the Killer), Hirokazu Kore-eda (After Life), Shinji Aoyama (Eureka), and Hideo Nakata (Ringu, Dark Water). But more importantly, Mes and Sharp devote considerable space to lesser-known (at least in the West) though no less interesting figures like Sogo Ishii (Crazy Thunder Road, August in the Water), Masato Harada (Kamikaze Taxi, Bounce KoGals), Kaizo Hayashi (To Sleep So As to Dream, The Most Terrible Time in My Life), Ryosuke Hashiguchi (Hush!), and Sabu (Dangan Runner, The Blessing Bell), among others.

The final third of the book is devoted to single films, whether from internationally known directors or not, which have made an impact on the film scene or are just too good or unusual to pass up. Critically-lauded and popular art house hits such as Tampopo, The Mystery of Rampo, Gohatto, and Shall We Dance? are featured, as well as more outré fare such as the transgressive Organ, the anime thriller Perfect Blue, the kaiju eiga standby Gamera 3: Revenge of Iris, the surreal horror film Uzumaki, and the all-CGI powered Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within. Even in such a specialized book such as this, there’s bound to be something for everyone.

A bibliography of “recommended reading” and a much needed index of titles and personalities are also included. Unfortunately, a no-interest, no-limit credit card is not.

A Cry of Desperate Men: Grey Knight--The Director's Cut (1993)

This Civil War/horror film has had a long, troubled history worthy of a small chapbook or something, and was originally released as The Killing Box (as well as Ghost Brigade), though that version is not director George Hickenlooper's. Known informally as the "Producer's Cut," The Killing Box was edited by ten minutes, downplaying much of the simmering homoeroticism between Adrian Pasdar's character and that of Corbin Bernsen's, as well as containing a different music score and a drastically different opening sequence. Hickenlooper, who also directed the fabulous documentary Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker's Apocalypse, about the tribulations surrounding the making of Francis Ford Coppola's psychedelic war masterpiece, Apocalypse Now (my favorite film, by the way), here reimagines Coppola's Vietnam War odyssey to the scorched earth of the American South, complete with surreal Orphean interludes and arthouse existentialism. Focusing on a small group of Union soldiers, led by Captain John Harling (Pasdar), as they meander through the blood-soaked countryside in search of a band of Confederate renegades (so they believe) who've committed acts of extreme prejudice against Yankee soldiers, the film combines gritty combat realism with supernatural horror and adds a little cosmic myth into the mix just for good measure. The results aren't always smooth--due mainly to Hickenlooper's sometimes plodding and amateurish directing--but this flawed yet ambitious film frequently delivers on originality and boldness thanks to Matt Greenberg's screenplay. The performances by Pasdar, who seems to be channeling Martin Sheen (who has a cameo in the film at the beginning) as Captain Willard from Apocalypse Now, and Bernsen (who has a little Richard Harris from Peckinpah's Major Dundee going for him) are good, as are Ray Wise (Twin Peaks) as a demented Colonel Kilgore-like Union officer, Billy Bob Thornton as a Confederate soldier, and Cynda Williams (One False Move, which also starred Thornton) as a mute slave who ends up offering Col. Nehemiah Strayn (Bernsen) a little taste of immortality. Not brilliant by any means, this modest film should nevertheless reward the more adventurous horror film aficionados out there.

Subscribe to NT and Feel the Darkness!

You can now receive blog entries from this site directly into your email inbox or via an RSS feed. Click on the FeedBurner link beneath my profile or simply enter your email address in the appropriate spot. No, not there. There. I'm pointing right at it. Excellent. And I promise not to inundate you with loads--loads--of posts.

Graham Joyce

British writer Joyce has been crafting some of the strangest and worthwhile novels since the early-1990s. Why haven't you heard of him? Perhaps because the publishing industry in this country doesn't know what the fuck Joyce actually writes. Is it fantasy? Yeah, sometimes, but not the kind that you think. Does he write horror? Well, not really, though there are horrific or supernatural elements at times. Anyway, you get the picture. Exponents of the fantastic or anyone who simply loves a good, well-written novel that is actually trying to do something original should not hesitate to read Joyce.

Lynda Rucker reviews his latest novel, The Limits of Enchantment, over at the Strange Horizons web site. Check it out at:

http://www.strangehorizons.com/reviews/2005/11/the_limit.shtml

George Best 1946-2005

I’m not British. I don’t support Manchester United. And I wasn’t even born when Best started to dazzle the world with his grace, style, determination, bravery, and mad skills on the pitch. But I do love soccer, and with that love comes the dream--the wish--that I could have witnessed one of the all-time greats perform. Even Pele stated that he thought Best was the greatest player he’d ever seen. Of course, Best agreed. Was he the greatest? I don’t know. He never won a World Cup title and his career was one wild rollercoaster ride once he departed Man U in 1973. And then there was his life off the pitch. When Spinal Tap keyboardist Viv Savage (David Kaff) proclaimed in the film, This is Spinal Tap, that his motto for living was to "Have a good time. . .all the time," he could have easily been parroting soccer legend George Best's motto as well. Best had a love of drink, women, fast cars, and burning out with flash style like the rockers that he was frequently compared to. One Portuguese journalist even proclaimed him "The Fifth Beatle.” Well . . . Best and everyone else it seems. Best also knew how to get the most mileage out of a quote. Here are a few of my favorites:

"I used to go missing a lot...Miss Canada, Miss United Kingdom, Miss World."

“He cannot kick with his left foot, he cannot head a ball, he cannot tackle and he doesn't score many goals. Apart from that he's all right.”
-- (his assessment of Manchester United's David Beckham)

“I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars. The rest I just squandered.”

“I've stopped drinking, but only while I'm asleep.”

"In 1969 I gave up women and alcohol - it was the worst 20 minutes of my life."

Here are a few more links about the man and his fabulous career:

http://football.guardian.co.uk/obituary/0,16836,1650898,00.html

http://football.guardian.co.uk/gallery/0,8555,1647552,00.html

http://football.guardian.co.uk/obituary/0,16836,1651234,00.html

http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/4466944.stm

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/11/26/sports/soccer/26best.html

http://uk.sports.yahoo.com/fo/rodney/best.html

We’re Going to Eat You

When the relatives just won’t leave or if the turkey just doesn’t do the trick, why don’t you simply slip out of the house and take in a cannibal film? That’s if you live in Eugene, Oregon, of course. This Thanksgiving weekend the wonderful Bijou theater is going to show three classics of the genre: Ruggero Deodato’s brutal and unforgettable masterpiece, Cannibal Holocaust, Antonio Margheriti’s Cannibal Apocalypse, and Wes Craven’s classic piece of revenge mayhem, The Hills Have Eyes. All of them are worthy of attention if you have the stomach for this particular kind of gut-munching horror, though don’t blame me if your life passes before your eyes while watching Holocaust. Margheriti’s and Craven’s productions are intense and great fun in their ways. But Deodato’s contribution to the genre is. . .well, just keep telling yourself it’s only a movie. . .a movie. . .a movie. . .a movie. . . .

My God’s Bigger: Frankenstein vs. Baragon (1965)

Growing up as a die-hard monster kid, I obsessively watched any creature-feature that came on television. King Kong, Frankenstein’s Monster, big, small, whatever. If it had a monster in it, I was there. And my favorite kinds of monsters were the ones that came from the mighty Toho Studios in Japan. Godzilla, of course, was my favorite, though Rodan was a close runner-up even though he lacked personality. Monster Zero was also high on my list, as was the gentle Mothra. Luckily, it seemed that there was always some kind of kaiju eiga (monster movie) on every Saturday or Sunday afternoon, so I managed to see plenty of ‘em. But for some reason—probably due to the fact that it simply never played on KATU, the channel that aired most of these wonderfully surreal fantasies—I never got a chance to see Frankenstein Conquers the World (its American release title). Now, thankfully, my prospects have changed due to DVD. Though still unavailable in the U.S., Frankenstein vs. Baragon is easily obtainable in its native country of Japan, and because the worldwide web has made it a lot more accessible for cineastes of all stripes—as long as they have a multi-region DVD player—to get pretty much anything their obsessive little hearts desire.

Directed by the legendary Ishiro Honda, with special effects from the equally impressive and important Eiji Tsuburaya, Frankenstein vs. Baragon is one of the landmark kaiju eiga battle royales from the 1960s. After the Nazis deliver via submarine Frankenstein’s heart (not the infamous doctor’s beating muscle but the monster’s) to Hiroshima, Japan, so that doctors can implement their own twisted experiments upon it, the American forces drop the atom bomb and the rest, as they say, is history. Flash forward fifteen years, and a group of doctors—inexplicably led by Dr James Bowen, played to inert perfection by the troubled Nick Adams—discover a strange, feral teenager wandering the streets of Hiroshima, who survives by preying on stray dogs and eating God knows what else. Bowen and his fellow doctors, played by kaiju eiga regulars Tadao Takashima and Kumi Mizuno, attempt to nurse the boy back to health and gently civilize him. But the teenager, experiencing a growth spurt to end them all, starts to metamorphose into a giant and eventually becomes a danger to everyone around him. Dr Kawaji (Takashima) wants to kill Frankenstein and perform experiments upon his body, but Dr Togami (Mizuno) demands that to exterminate him would be against their medical ethics. She’s got a point, but how in the Hell do they expect to tame a 30 foot tall teenager with hormones rampaging violently through him like a fourteen-year old attention-starved boy at a nude rodeo? Of course, this ethical dilemma is not why we enjoy the best of the Toho monster mashes. We want destruction. Big, bad, city in flames trouble in mind is what we desire. And the weirder the better. It takes almost an hour or so for the mayhem to really get going here, but when it does . . . oh, man, you can practically taste the hate. Baragon (a dinosaur-like creature with a spike sticking out of its forehead), who was never a Toho or a fan favorite, is ultimately no match for our square-headed friend. But their showdown in the Japanese countryside is nothing short of awesome. And the finale, with our two adversaries surrounded by a raging forest fire, is one the best endings Honda and Tsuburaya ever devised, as well as one of the most apocalyptic. The Japanese DVD also contains the legendary, and seldom seen, “alternate” ending which has Frankenstein battling it out with a cosmically huge devil fish (really an octopus) that would have given H.P. Lovecraft nightmares for eternity. Or, he’d simply laugh. Probably the latter, I guess. Anyway . . . the showdown is fantastic, and after reading about it for years, it certainly lived up to my expectations.

Honda and company followed up this mini-classic with the even better War of the Gargantuas the next year, staring yet another slumming, sleep-walking American actor (Russ Tamblyn) to play off of the lovely Ms. Mizuno and the rubber-suit mayhem. And if that doesn’t get your pulse racing, I seriously doubt you’re among the living.

Stray Dolls: Azumi 2: Death or Love (2005)

This disappointing follow-up to the thoroughly entertaining and violent chambara (Japanese slang for historical swordplay films; a sub-genre of the jidai-geki or historical film genre) Azumi (2003), is not without its charms or excitement, but there’s something lacking here. Aya Ueta returns as the kawaii (cute) assassin Azumi who, with her loyal compatriot Nagara (Yuma Ishigaki) still by her side after the monumental bloodshed finale of the last film, are hired by another lord to take out the evil warlord Masayuki Sanada (Mikijiro Hira), who wants to wage war across Tokugawa Japan and destroy anyone foolhardy enough to stand in his way. Director Shusuke Kaneko (Gamera: The Guardian of the Universe and its sequels; Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack) replaces Ryhuhei Kitamura (Versus, Godzilla: Final Wars) from the first outing, and the difference couldn’t be more obvious. Kitamura’s swift, stylish epic (especially in the 142 minute Japanese cut and not the shorter international version) beautifully mixed action and emotion, character-development and manga-inspired melodrama to make for one hell of a Saturday afternoon matinee bonanza. Kaneko’s take on the material, unfortunately, never really finds its footing and when the action sequences do kick in—which isn’t too long of a wait—they’re frequently un-involving and ponderously staged.

There are some surprises and treats here, though, including the casting of fan-boy favorite Chiaki Kuriyama (Battle Royale, Kill Bill: Vol. 1) as an assassin who joins up with Azumi and her new rag-tag killer misfits. And though she pretty much steals every scene she’s in, even Kuriyama has trouble fighting her way out of screenwriter Yoshiaki Kawajiri’s clunky dialogue and clichéd plot.

I realize it sounds as if I really disliked Azumi 2: Death or Love, which couldn’t be farther from the truth (I'll take a mediocre Azumi over none at all). It’s just that the first film was so good, so enjoyable, that perhaps my expectations were a little too high. Oh, well. Considering that Death or Love ends with a wide-open window for another installment, I’m sure I’ll get another chance to see my Azumi dreams turn into another serving of bad shio-zuke.

Chasing the Dragon: From Hell (2001)

I still haven’t read the groundbreaking and legendary comic book series of the same name, created by the equally legendary soothsayers of pen and ink, Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell, which originally clawed its way to savage life in Steve Bissette’s marvelous and short-lived graphic novel horror series Taboo. So this short review will not mount a comparison of the original source material against the film. But for all its faults—and there are several, including the horrible miscasting of the otherwise fine Heather Graham as London prostitute Mary Kelly—the film is nevertheless a brooding, atmospheric bad dream that generates such an inescapable sense of dread unlike any recent horror film of the last ten years outside of Lynch’s Lost Highway. London seethes with evil and degradation, and the city streets bleed malevolence. A perfect hunting ground for the infamous Jack the Ripper. Within this sewer of humanity a series of gruesome murders are committed on the city’s prostitutes and the authorities, led by the opium smoking, absinthe drinking Inspector Abberline (Johnny Depp), are at their wits end trying to uncover who is responsible. But is there a greater purpose or a grand conspiracy to the sex killings? Is it possible that the murders lead all the way to the doors of Buckingham Palace? Is there more than one person doing the Devil’s work?

Depp is fine as Inspector Abberline, but it’s the supporting cast that really keeps the film from suffocating underneath the weight of its hallucinatory visuals and aggressive auditory rumbling. Ian Holm, Robbie Coltrane, Jason Flemyng, and last but certainly not least, Katrin Cartlidge, all elevate From Hell to a sublime experience for me. The sorely missed Cartlidge—she died suddenly at the age of 41 from complications from pneumonia and septicaemia—steals every scene she’s in (what’s new?) as Dark Annie Chapman and she would have made a perfect Mary Kelly if the filmmakers had had the balls to cast her in the lead. Alas, directors Allen and Albert Hughes didn’t and we’re left with only glimpses of what could’ve been.

I’m not a Ripperologist by any means, and I’ve certainly not watched all of the numerous films made about the killings—my favorite, though, is the 1944 version of The Lodger starring Laird Cregar. But for many reasons, from the relentless atmosphere of evil seemingly awaiting around every corner to the no exit fates of poverty, disease, and violence that is the day to day existence for the women of the streets, From Hell is certainly the most oppressive and nightmare-inducing version that I’ve yet seen. And that makes for one hell of a good horror film.

Across the Gulf of Space: War of the Worlds (1953)

1953 was a great year for science fiction films. The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (based on the short story “The Fog Horn” by Ray Bradbury) wrecked havoc upon the streets of New York courtesy of famed stop-motion animator Ray Harryhausen, Donovan’s Brain came pulsing to life co-starring the future First Lady Nancy Reagan, Invaders from Mars and It Came from Outer Space (the latter title based on a screen treatment by Bradbury and is one of my favorite SF films from that era) both haunted and amazed audiences with their Cold War paranoia, and then there was War of the Worlds. It’s been a little over 50 years since its release and it still looks amazing, let alone the power to enchant and dazzle me with its hovering alien spacecraft bent on burning the world and everything in it to cinders. This George Pal production, directed by Byron Haskin, deviates plenty from Wells’ classic novel, but the essence and the melancholy mood remain intact. If you’ve never seen it, I urge you to do so now, especially since Paramount has given the film a splendid presentation on DVD. The saturated color palette (courtesy of Technicolor) has never looked as surreal and ravishing as it does here, and the disc comes with multiple commentary tracks (one with stars Gene Barry and Ann Robinson; the other with director Joe Dante, film historian Bob Burns, and genre critic/writer Bill Warren, who penned one of the pivotal and landmark books on the science fiction films of the Cold War era, Keep Watching the Skies!), which I haven’t yet listened to but will shortly. The film’s deadly earnest performances (a requirement for any good SF film) also charms the pants off me and reminds me why I used to love watching it over and over again every time it played on KPTV Channel 12 once or twice a year. This was pre-cable and VCR days folks, so I used to anxiously wait for it to hit the airwaves. Of course, the thing I liked most about it were the aliens and spacecraft. Sure, the special effects may lack the thunder of Spielberg’s recent remake (a film that is high on my Year’s Best list, by the way) and those ghastly wires attached to the menacing metal machines are clearly visible in many shots. But the film still casts a spell on me regardless, and I still fall into the illusion with the ease and comfort of a weary mind descending into a favorite dream.

There’s No Wrong: The Devil’s Rejects: Unrated Version (2005)

Spastic, ugly, brutal, and thoroughly entertaining if you like your horror movies void of any supernatural element, Rob Zombie’s follow-up to his equally delirious 2003 offering, House of a 1000 Corpses, is one mean boot to the head. Having said all that, I did enjoy most of it, though the film’s ludicrous final third stretched plausibility. Rejects again focuses on Captain Spaulding (Sid Haig) and his family of misfit serial killers (most named after Marx Brothers characters) as they butcher anyone unfortunate enough to wander in their path. Chock full of B-movie actors and has-beens (William Forsythe, Ken Foree, Michael Berryman, Geoffrey Lewis, Priscilla Barnes, Mary Woronov, Steve Railsback, P.J. Soles, Elizabeth Daily, and Deborah Van Valkenburgh, respectively), Zombie’s love of trash cinema is certainly infectious if you share the same peculiar admiration of grindhouse movies (I do) and in its own twisted fashion, the film is as inspired in spots as Tarantino’s brilliant (and much, much better) Kill Bill films. But underneath it all there’s the foulness of rot (something, I imagine, Mr. Zombie would take as a compliment). Unlike pervy grindhouse classics like Wes Craven’s The Last House on the Left or William Lustig’s Maniac, Rejects celebrates and honors his wolfish anti-heroes, even allowing them a glorious Bonnie and Clyde styled death while Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Freebird” blasts away on the soundtrack no less. To be honest, it’s a little off-putting. But, then again, Hollywood has had a long love affair with glamorizing killers, whether it’s Sam Peckinpah’s noble gunslingers from The Wild Bunch, Arthur Penn’s fashionable hipsters Bonnie and Clyde, or Oliver Stone’s savage lovers Mickey and Mallory Knox in Natural Born Killers (all released by Warner Bros. Studios, by the way, and all films I like very much). So am I being hypocritical here? I don’t know. Certainly something I’ll have to think about some more. I should also add that Rejects would make a fine double-feature with Jim Van Bebber’s notorious (and good) film, The Manson Family, which after years of ups and downs, was finally released onto DVD earlier in the year.

The Devil’s Rejects is available on DVD from Lions Gate.

Yup, They Dead Alright: Dead Birds (2004)

Taking a narrative cue from Sam Peckinpah’s classic apocalyptic Western, The Wild Bunch, Dead Birds begins with our six outlaws riding into a small southern town and robbing its bank. Of course, things go wrong immediately and innocent blood is shed. Big mistake. The outlaws, led by William (Henry Thomas) and his more subservient brother Sam (Patrick Fugit), flee with what loot they managed to take and ride off into the woods. The trees, soil, and air feel soaked in something more unpleasant than humidity, and the outlaws—after a few surprises--end up spending the night in an abandoned mansion/plantation where things quickly get even more dangerously weird once everyone starts to have visions and notions that they are indeed not alone there.

Sadly given a straight to DVD premiere, outside of a couple of film festival screenings around the country, Dead Birds is one of the best American horror films since David Lynch’s twist on the genre, Lost Highway. Though considerably more straight-forward and traditional than Lynch’s typically skewed and genre-subverting production, Dead Birds nevertheless creates a palpable sense of doom and creepy-crawl intensity that is impressive, even in these post-Sixth Sense or post-Ringu years where mood and atmosphere rule over the more visceral, volume-eleven type horror that dominated the screens in the 1970s and ‘80s. Much of the film’s power impacts us through suggestion and ambiguity, but it also knows when to shock us in order to accomplish its ambition to pull us under its black spell. The acting is all-around excellent, especially Isaiah Washington as Todd, a freed-slave who now works strong-arm for the gang, and Patrick Fugit, who shows that Almost Famous was not a fluke. Director Alex Turner and screenwriter Simon Barrett are talents to watch, especially if they continue to persevere in crafting serious-minded, atmospheric horror films such as this.

Dead Birds is available on DVD from Sony Pictures Entertainment.

Un Jour Comme un Autre: Girl Slaves of Morgana le Fay (1971)

Trippin’ fantastically through the south-central French countryside, two groovy girls, Anna and Francoise, wind up lost and a little freaked out because of it. After the two spend the night in an abandoned barn, and do a lot more than sleep, Francoise wakes to find her friend missing. Dazed and confused, Francoise encounters a striking-looking dwarf named Gurth, who leads her deep into the forest and into the supernatural realm of the legendary Morgana le Fay. Morgana, who rules over her acid-drenched kingdom of nubile female subordinates by allowing them to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh for eternity in exchange for their immortal souls (a devil’s bargain if there ever was one), fixates on the beautiful Francoise and subsequently offers her the deal of a lifetime. Though it begins like your average gothic horror film—complete with the girls entering a rural tavern for some drinks only to be warned to leave immediately by the barkeep—Morgana le Fay is in fact more like an opium-laced fairytale as influenced by Jean Cocteau as much as it is by Jean Rollin. There’s plenty of Sapphic loveliness to behold here, which should more than entice fans of Euro-sleaze, but there’s also an artfulness to the proceedings that should satiate even the mildly curious. Groovy indeed.

And while we're on the subject of Asian horror--specifically Korean horror films--check out Lynda Rucker's recent review of the brilliant and masterful A Tale of Two Sisters over at the Strange Horizons web site:

http://www.strangehorizons.com/reviews/2005/10/a_tale_of.shtml

I Hate School: Whispering Corridors (1998)

This landmark horror film from South Korea, along with the Japanese film Ringu--also released in 1998--basically started the new Asian horror boom. Corridors deals with a series of mysterious “suicides” at a high school for girls that are believed to be caused by a malevolent ghost, a former student who died years earlier in one of the rooms. Though low on actual scares, director Park Ki-hyung has crafted a superb character-driven story that packs an emotional wallop while generating plenty of creeping dread. Much of the film’s power stems from its claustrophobic location and the frequently horrific ordeals that the young female students have to endure—everything from sexual harassment by teachers to demeaning verbal abuse to outright physical violence. In many ways, the terror that the ghost inflicts upon the student body and faculty is nothing compared to what the girls must suffer through at the hands of their teachers. The film, which eventually spawned two loose sequels—1999’s Memento Mori and Wishing Stairs from 2003--is now available in this country on DVD and is a perfect introduction for those of you who still haven’t had the pleasure to enter into the strange and surreal world of Asian horror.

Attention!

Been taking a little break from this blog for the last couple of weeks, but I'll be back with a load of reviews, so stay tuned if you're so inclined. I'll have pieces on the annual The H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival which happened here in Portland during the weekend of the 7th through the 9th, and lots more.

Also the second issue of Nightmare Town, the print version, is now out. Included in its 36 pages are lengthy articles on the Jonah Hex comic books, a duel critical shootout on the pros and cons of Kevin Costner's oater, Open Range, Catholicism in the horror film, Dean Sharp's Sonic Doom music reviews, and a hilarious and very wry homage/parody of H.P. Lovecraft and the Hollywood star memoir. And it's all free. So drop me a line if you want a copy and I'll send it off to you. What are you waiting for? It's free, man!

Serenity Redux

We're only a little over a day away from the release of the highly anticipated Serenity feature film. Having seen the film already, I can't stress enough that if you have any interest in seeing it--and damn well you should!--do not read any reviews before hand. They're bound to give major plot points away and ruin the whole experience for you. Trust me, the film is fantastic and is without a doubt one of the best SF films in years. It's well written, acted, and doesn't pull any emotional punches. Director-writer Joss Whedon has made something unique here and old fans of Firefly as well as new ones are bound to experience something special. The less you know about the plot . . . the better. Anyway, go and see it and have a blast.

Short Cuts: Race with the Devil (1975)

Two married couples—Warren Oates and Loretta Swit, Peter Fonda and Lara Parker—decide to head it on out to the highway in their behemoth deluxe-equipped RV(!), taking it easy as they meander from Texas to Aspen, Colorado. That’s the plan, at any rate. But the first night on the road, after some good food and lots of drink, Oates and Fonda witness a bizarre and startling satanic sacrifice near the wooded area where the couples camped for the night. The satanists spot them and the chase is on, baby. Haulin’ ass through rural Texas is never an easy endeavor, but when the Dark Prince’s minions are bent on bringing thy ass down low, you can expect more than a heap of trouble along the way. Race with the Devil is simply a pure, unpretentious B-movie, and I mean that with all respect. Damn, they sure don’t make ‘em like this any more. Oates and Fonda are a whole lot of fun to watch, as are the numerous character actors that come in and out of the picture—like the always reliable R. G. Armstrong as a suspicious sheriff. Great stunts, an ever-increasing mood of paranoia, and plenty of suspense make this little movie one helluva good time. It may not be the best horror movie ever made, but it sure is more enjoyable than you’ll think it’ll be. Hell, it’s better than most of the horror crap seeping out of Hollywood today, no question about it.

High on Fire: Fire and Ice (1983)

I was never a big Frank Frazetta fan when I was a teenager. Strange, since I loved heavy metal bands like Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Celtic Frost, Venom, and all the other putrid, diseased, full-on scavengers of noise and death that appropriated fantasy art for their record and CD covers. With that much leather, spikes, and bullet-belts on display, you’d think that my aesthetic taste would have veered toward the muscular phantasmagoria of Frazetta’s work. But you know what? It all seemed a little over-the-top and silly for me. I was all about Bosch, Dali, Bacon, and Giger at that time. Though I admired his work on a technical level, Frazetta’s paintings of big, buxom women and savage he-men was too much of a suspension of disbelief for my skinny, white, six-foot suburban ass.

Now, years later, I understand. I get it and damn, if I don’t love Frazetta’s superb fantasy illustrations and paintings. His work is strange, seductive, majestic, and violent with drama and action. Frazetta is our modern-day Rembrandt fueled on steroids and LSD. Unfortunately, because the fine art world snubs painters and illustrators who choose to work in the genre of the fantastique or who are popular to the masses, artists like Frazetta, Giger, and countless others are disregarded as mere hacks. A sad tragedy indeed. Because when Frazetta is gone, the world will lose one of the greatest commercial artists who ever lived. Hell, one of the greatest artists, period.

Back in 1983, animation director Ralph Bakshi (Fritz the Cat, Heavy Traffic, Wizards, American Pop) collaborated with Frazetta to produce a full-length feature film that would showcase both their talents to the highest degree and further their mutual love of fantasy and epic action. Fire and Ice was the result, and though the final product was far from perfect and doesn’t honestly deliver the goods when it comes to translating Frazetta’s work to celluloid, there is still plenty to admire and enjoy. Set within the lost mists of history, in a primordial age where brute strength and barbarism dominates all, the film’s streamlined plot focuses on the evil Nekron—an albino prince whose kingdom resides within massive glaciers from the north and who rules over a savage race of subhumans—and his will to overthrow the kingdoms of the south. Toss in a voluptuous kidnapped princess, the requisite solemn hero who must avenge his fellow villagers who were unfortunate enough to be crushed by Nekron’s forces, a mysterious masked rider named Darkwolf, and you have the ingredients for an afternoon of heavy metal fantasies and escapism. I really wish the plot could’ve been more complex and less accommodating to the clichés of the sword & sorcery genre, and the dialogue, though sparse, is really awful, but the film more than makes up for its inadequacies with loads of swift action and psychedelic animation. It’s not perfect by any means, and it’s obvious that Bakshi was hampered by a low budget, but Fire and Ice should satiate the twelve-year-old in us all who has never ceased from wanting to answer the riddle of steel.

The 2-disc limited edition DVD, released by Blue Underground, also contains the even better—in fact thoroughly superb—documentary, Frazetta: Painting with Fire (2003), directed by Lance Laspina. Filled with numerous interviews with colleagues, family members, as well as the man himself, Painting with Fire is a loving tribute to the master and his work. Even people who have no interest in this type of fantasy art should find the film fascinating and will perhaps go away with a much better understanding of why Frazetta’s work will continue to enchant generations to come.

Short Cuts: Night of the Living Dead (1968)

So much has been written about this seminal horror film, but I guess I’ll add my two cents to the bulk, dross, and critical appraisal however redundant it may be. Though I’ve seen this film numerous times throughout my life, it’s been awhile, and Lynda and I have been planning on revisiting George A. Romero’s original “Living Dead” trilogy in preparation for the DVD release of the fourth, uncut installment, Land of the Dead, in October. Our enthusiasm was also high since we watched the new Starz Encore documentary Midnight Movies a couple of nights ago, which focuses on six of the first true cult films of the late-1960s-early 1970s, NOTLD being one of them. Well, we just finished watching it and man, does it hold up. For those of you who have never seen it (is there really anyone over the age of ten who hasn’t?), NOTLD is one of the great horror films of all time dealing with a disparate group of humans held-up in a country house, forced to battle a marauding tide of flesh-eating zombies gathering outside while battling one another inside. Shot in stark black & white, the film is powerful, politically subversive (especially for the time), and filled with nightmarish images of the living dead scavengers devouring their human victims, ripping them apart, and tussling with their gutty works like ignorant children playing with streams of silly string. But however visceral and disconcerting the violence may be, the real impact of the film stems from the selfishness and recklessness that the human characters perpetuate and from the savage dénouement that never fails to leave me shattered. Sure, some of the performances are awkward or amateurish (many of the “actors” were locals or friends of the filmmakers), but Duane Jones’ lead role as Ben, the reluctant yet resourceful “hero” of the film, is thoroughly excellent and commanding. The film is also not as slick as the subsequent chapters in the series, but Romero’s direction and editing is frequently startling and brilliant. It’s not by chance that this ruthless blast of cinematic apocalypse has managed to infiltrate the pantheon of great horror films. Next up for our viewing pleasure . . . Romero’s follow-up, Dawn of the Dead, will be screened and I can’t fucking wait.

Robert Wise

Over his long and distinguished career, director Robert Wise dipped his creative hand into just about every popular film genre around. If you liked the hard-boiled stuff, there was Born to Kill (1947) with Lawrence Tierney or the classic boxing film, The Set-Up (1949), starring Robert Ryan. Horror fans could sink their teeth into The Curse of the Cat People (1944), The Body Snatcher (1945) with Karloff and Lugosi, the bona fide classic The Haunting (1963), and the sadly underrated Audrey Rose (1977). There were Westerns—Blood on the Moon (1948), Two Flags West (1950)--; historical epics—Helen of Troy (1956)--; war/action—The Desert Rats (1953), Destination Gobi (1953), Run Silent Run Deep (1958), and The Sand Pebbles (1966) with Steve McQueen; melodrama—Executive Suite (1954), I Want to Live! (1958); science-fiction—the humanistic The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), the scarily relevant The Andromeda Strain (1971), and the sadly turgid Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979). And then there were the musicals West Side Story (1961) and The Sound of Music (1965), which if he had directed nothing else, these two monsters of the genre would’ve been more than enough to solidify his place in Hollywood history. Wise also had his clunkers—Star! (1968), The Hindenburg (1975), and the above-mentioned first Star Trek feature-film—but his track record was more-so-than-not impressive and the work solidly entertaining, if unfortunately lacking in personality or distinction.

Before turning to directing, Wise began his career as an assistant editor for RKO and then later worked with Orson Welles on the masterpiece, Citizen Kane (1941). But Wise’s fruitful relationship with Welles was not to last after the release of The Magnificent Ambersons (1942), when the RKO suits demanded that Wise edit the film down (behind Welles’ back) from its initial 132 minutes to just 88 minutes after preview audiences grew fidgety and confused. Despite Welles’ protestations and cries of betrayal, Wise maintained that his cuts and reconfiguring of scenes simply made the film flow better and tighter. Sadly, because the original print is lost to history, we’ll never know who was right.

Robert Wise died on Wednesday, September 14^th, 2005 at the age of 91.

Short Cuts: Blood on Satan's Claw (1971)

After Michael Reeves scored big with the remarkable Witchfinder General (a.k.a. The Conqueror Worm), a whole slew of "witch hunt" films burned up the screens and gave horror fans the world over plenty to get fired-up over. Piers Haggard's film is one of the better ones. But unlike Witchfinder General, which eschewed any kind of supernatural motives to the proceedings, Satan's Claw thrusts the viewer into a demon-haunted world where the Devil truly stalks the earth and uses a gaggle of 17th century teenagers to further His diabolical ambitions. With its rich sense of atmosphere and sometimes startling imagery--the possessed youth manifest demonic scales on their flesh--the film only wavers at the end when the Devil actually makes an appearance. He may be the Prince of the Infernal, but when burdened by a low-budget He simply looks like a wet, two-legged yak. Or a monkey. Or something wet and ridiculous. Anyway . . . Satan's Claw is always interesting and should be a must-see for any true horror film connoisseur. And watch out for the very sexy Linda Hayden, who portrays the deliciously satanic Angel Blake. Think the looks of Baby Spice mixed with the soul of a Manson girl and you'll sort of get an idea of what I'm talking about. But perhaps I'm divulging too much about what makes my heart all a flutter.

Short Cuts: The Big Red One--The Reconstruction (1980/2004)

I've always enjoyed this film, but now Sam Fuller's autobiographical WWII epic is truly epic and even better than the shorter theatrical version. It's still uneven in spots, hampered by a low budget, and frustrating in its casting choices, but this longer cut (by some 47 minutes!) brings out the scope and shapes Lee Marvin's finest hour into something dramatically resonant and unforgettable. Makes Spielberg's over-rated Saving Private Ryan--despite its admittedly technical virtuosity--look like the false record of history that it is. As close to a true masterpiece that the always interesting Fuller ever made.

Short Cuts: La Ceremonie (1996)

This was my first Claude Chabrol film and I can't wait to see more. Based on Ruth Rendell's superb crime novel, A Judgement in Stone, Chabrol's film faithfully translates the story to modern-day France and dissects the class struggle buried there in ruthless style. The lead roles by Sandrine Bonnaire (Vagabond), Isabelle Huppert (The Piano Teacher, Time of the Wolf), and Jacqueline Bisset (Day for Night, Le Magnifique) are all excellent and elevate the film into the realm of sublimity. Chilling stuff.

Sympathy for Lady Vengeance

One of the first Western reviews of Park Chan-wook's latest film is now up over at Variety. Lady Vengeance is the third film of Park's "Vengeance Trilogy" and it is sure to be just as brilliant and provocative as the earlier installments, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance and Oldboy. Check out the review here:

http://www.variety.com/review/VE1117927794?categoryid=31&cs=1

Eye of the Storm

Here's a link to a blog site by two fellas down south who survived Katrina:

http://dancingwithkatrina.blogspot.com/

And again, if you don't think you can help--YOU CAN. Really. Contact the following relief agencies and do what you're able to do :

http://www.mercycorps.org/
http://www.redcross.org/

R.I.P. R.L.

There’s a lot of misery going down outside the walls of Nightmare Town and my thoughts go out to the people suffering in the Gulf Coast. To add to the pain, blues musician R.L. Burnside died yesterday in Memphis. Burnside recorded for the splendid and essential Fat Possum label out of Oxford, Mississippi, and his CDs—especially Too Bad Jim—are faves around my home. If you’ve never had the pleasure of grooving to one of Burnside’s “primitive” blues sounds, run out and pick one up, grab a six-pack, and salute one of the last of the real bluesmen. And while you’re at it . . . donate some green to the relief effort to help those poor souls down yonder. We all gotta do our part, comrades.

You Can’t Take the Sky from Me: Serenity (2005)

Back in May I got a chance to attend a “rough cut” screening of Joss Whedon’s feature-film debut, Serenity, based on his short-lived yet beloved SF show Firefly. I was a big fan of the show and the film version does not disappoint despite some minor qualms that I had. The film opens in theaters September 30^th. Anyway, here are my notes (WARNING: CONTAINS A MINOR SPOILER) that I scribbled down immediately after the screening:

Attended an advanced showing of the “rough cut” on Thursday evening. Set six months after the end of the television program, Serenity is a non-stop ride of action, great special-effects, and the fabulous writing that we’ve come to expect from Whedon. Unfortunately, in his attempt to lure new fans to the story, writer-director Whedon has sacrificed a lot of the character-development, nuance, and emotional resonance for shock and awe melodrama. But having said that, the film is nevertheless effective and is filled with a cinematic richness that the television show could never achieve because of the limitations of the idiot box medium. The acting is wonderful throughout and we generally care about our roguish heroes as they travel through even darker reaches of space than their old lives as television characters. Perhaps I’m just a tad disappointed because I wanted even more character-development than I received, but in comparison to a lot of Hollywood films—especially genre films—I have to admit the film does contain plenty to be excited about. It’s a big cast and all of the actors do get a chance to shine. I’m just greedy, I suppose, and I want even more. Yes, it’s that good the majority of the time. I do have some problems with the pacing, though, specifically during the drawn-out fight scene between Mal and the assassin character near the end. And much of that fight scene stretches credibility. Hopefully, by the time this thing reaches the screen in late-September Whedon will have edited the sequence down a bit. Overall, despite some minor problems, I can’t wait to queue up with cash in hand and see it again. Definitely the best SF film to hit the big screen in a long time. Washes away the nasty after-burn of Lucas' soulless travesties.

Short Cuts: House of Bamboo (1955)

Excellent Sam Fuller film noir set in post-WWII Tokyo. Swift action, smoldering eroticism, and good performances by Robert Stack, Robert, Ryan, and Shirley Yamaguchi easily make this one of Fuller’s best. Fuller was always an interesting director and Bamboo is filled with plenty of his trademark psychological insights and social commentary. Highly recommended.

Short Cuts: Warlock (1959)

Read about this for years. Well, it finally made it to DVD and it's far better than most of the critics had led me to believe. Splendid "classical" western with a strong, subversive gay subtext. The lead performances by Henry Fonda, Anthony Quinn (with a bad blonde dye job!), and Richard Widmark are all superb. Strangely enough the film works well as a traditional western and a re-examination of the genre. Highly recommended. Based on the cult novel by Oakley Hall.

Links of Note

Lynda Rucker has posted a new book review on her web site about the late-great Karl Edward Wagner's magnificent sword & sorcery novel, Bloodstone, featuring his anti-hero Kane the Mystic Swordsman. Yeah, yeah, I know--that particular sub-genre of fantasy is moribund and embarrassing to even contemplate reading. But seriously, you have no idea how brilliant Wagner's take on the genre was. Outside of Robert E. Howard (Conan) and Fritz Leiber (Fafhrd & the Gray Mouser), Wagner's take on the genre was dark and brooding as his best horror fiction. And personally, Wagner's Kane Saga is my all-time favorite (of the genre as a whole and his own fiction). At some point down the road I'll write more about the Kane novels and stories, but until then . . . check out what Lynda has to say:

http://www.sff.net/people/lyndaerucker/books2005.html

Eat More Meat: Prime Cut (1972)

Badass mob enforcer Nick Devlin (Lee Marvin) is sent from Chicago down to Kansas City to take care of a renegade criminal named Mary Ann (Gene Hackman) who owes his city-dwelling associates $500,000. Though content with living the life of a country meatpacker and fostering the illusion of a respectable businessman, Mary Ann is selling something far more choice than hot dogs and steak. “Well, cow flesh, girl flesh,” he states, when confronted by Devlin. “It’s all the same to me. What they’re buying, I’m selling.” The blue skies, sweeping wheat fields, and the wholesome afternoons spent at the county fair are unable to disguise the festering rot underneath Mary Ann’s American Dream. Devlin and his mob muscle snatch a young girl (Sissy Spacek) from one of Mary Ann’s private auctions—drugged and naked girls penned in cages like farm animals—and whisk her away to a downtown hotel where Devlin falls chastely enamored of her. But Mary Ann’s boys steal her back, forcing Devlin to mix his business with what truly matters to him.

Though the film has been largely forgotten, director Michael Ritchie (The Candidate, Smile, The Bad News Bears, The Island) and screenwriter Robert Dillon craft something bizarrely special here, easily making Prime Cut one of the best crime films from the 1970s. This caustic pulp masterpiece sticks the knife into heartland America and never offers up a reprieve, even when its vice-grip of a plot cranks too tight and borders on outright absurdity. Marvin is at his laconic supercool best, as is Gene Hackman doing what he’s always done so brilliantly—play gleeful sleeze to the hilt. The supporting cast is finely sketched as well, especially the superb Gregory Walcott as Weenie, Mary Ann’s head-cheesed brother/enforcer. Unfortunately, the ending with Marvin and company releasing the rest of the girls from their “orphanage,” comes off as silly and contrived in its everything-is-right-with-the-world morality. But it smacks of studio interference more than an artistic miscalculation. Nevertheless, this savage, exciting, and darkly humorous postmodern country noir is prime good white trash entertainment. Dig it and dig in.

I should mention that this was one of my first formative film experiences. I’m not sure how old I was at the time, but I remember being taken to the drive-in theater, all snug in my one-piece pajamas and blanket, and waking up during several of the film’s more grotesque sequences, much to my wide-eyed horror. Talk about parental guidance! And the scene where Marvin and Spacek are chased in a wheat field by a combine machine left an indelible tattoo upon my soft, impressionable brain. Am I scarred because of it? Hell no! I thank my parents for being so reckless (I also have fond memories of being taken to the drive-in and waking up during The Wild Bunch at some point, probably in some sort of re-release. They also took me to see The Jungle Book at the drive-in, so there is evidence that my parents had some sensitivity of what was appropriate for my age; they were just inconsistent is all. Subsequently, my mother took me, aged ten, to see Apocalypse Now during its first theatrical run at the Joy Theater in Tigard, complete with the soon-to-be discarded destruction of Kurtz’s compound credit sequence. Man, talk about formative experiences!) and clueless. Despite what the parental do-gooders and naysayers would have you think, I’ve grown up eh . . . okay, I think. At the very least, I’ve got a wide-ranging love of film. So thanks, mom.

Prime Cut is available on DVD from Paramount Home Entertainment.

Short Cuts: Joint Security Area (2000)

First feature-film from Korean director Park Chan-wook's (Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, Oldboy). Set on the border between South and North Korea, J.S.A. is a wonderful, smart, emotional, action-packed film that never betrays the intimacy of story and the depth of character at the expense of its slickness and assured flashiness. It also proves that Park was the real deal from the get-go. Can't wait to see Sympathy for Lady Vengeance which was just released in Asia at the end of July.

Short Cuts: Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession (2004)

This is an IFC documentary focusing on the turbulent life of indie-cable television programmer Jerry Harvey, who made his name as one of the most passionate and knowledgeble champions of the hard-to-find, must-see films of the classic era as well as the contemporary. Harvey worked out of L.A. in the 1970s and 1980s, a time when the big cable channels (e.g. HBO, Showtime, The Movie Channel, ON, etc.) were unaware that the market place (i.e. US!) was interested or would support a channel that showcased the finest in film, be it arthouse fare like the latest Visconti or Kurosawa or genre delights like Peckinpah or Argento. Eventually, HBO and their ilk figured out that people were interested, so the fat cats moved in and tried to extinguish Harvey from the market place. Z Channel also explores the rather dark side of Harvey's personality (he was prone to severe bouts of depression and suffered from alcoholism) and most certainly doesn't shy away from the last chapter of Harvey's life (it all ends in murder/suicide). But don't get me wrong, Z Channel is not a ghoulish look at this troubled man's life. It's a celebration of film, obsession, and the way the moving image has a way of transforming us into something that exists only within the flicker of shadow and light. And it's achingly inspiring. A magnificent documentary indeed. If for no other reason, the Cinematic God will bestow great gifts upon Mr. Harvey's soul for championing Michael Cimino's much-reviled flop Heaven's Gate (one of the great political Westerns ever made!) when no other critic had the balls to do so. Amen.

Short Cuts: Ossessione (1942)

Visconti's take on James M. Cain's sultry noir masterpiece, The Postman Always Rings Twice, is gritty, moving, and erotic in that classic Italian neo-realist style. Nothing says reality like the camera lens. A masterpiece of world cinema if there ever was one. Skip the Lana Turner/John Garfield version and hit this baby instead.

Short Cuts: Dogville (2003)

Ambitious, and almost successful allegory of American tyranny and cultural subjugation as seen through the eyes of young Grace (Nicole Kidman), a wide-eyed innocent who seeks refuge in the small town of Dogville from a gang of ruthless mobsters. Captivating in so many ways (the acting, the sets, the music, the emotional of power of some scenes), director Lars von Trier (Zentropa, Breaking the Waves, Dancer in the Dark) ultimately fumbles Grace's story under the weight of too much symbolism, too much contrivance, and way too much finger pointing at us Americans and our inability to deal with the sins of our past and . . . present. Point taken, but what did your grandfather do in World War Two? And, of course, there's that whole European slave trade thing . . . .

Short Cuts

Because I'll be saving my longer reviews for the print zine, I thought I'd start posting some of my short, short ruminations about film here. So look forward to more of these "reviews" over the next few weeks, months, blah, blah, blah.

Ran (1985)

Akira Kurosawa's splendid adaptation of King Lear was the perfect balm to soothe my troubled mind after I made the mistake of re-watching George Lucas' soulless piece of shit Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace in preparation for Sith. Well, I never made it through the re-watch and ultimately never made it to the theaters to observe the masses fumbling over themselves to see the latest craptacular "entertainment" from Mr. Lucas. Ran, on the other hand, is one of the greatest films ever made and one of the coolest, most spectacular and emotionally devastating samurai-science fiction creations ever made. Don't believe me that it's SF? Watch the armies of samurai/aliens/insects battle across the blasted-earth at the base of Mount Fuji and try to deny the feeling that you've left this earth for good. If you can deny it, go back to your fucking Star Wars abominations and rot in your own mediocrity.

And Speaking of blogs . . .

This one has been out of commission for awhile. But hey, it happens. I should, though, be updating it with a bunch of new reviews and stuff within the next couple of days. So be prepared!

And the next hardcopy issue of Nightmare Town (issue two, #1) should be hitting the streets within the next couple of weeks. I do have a few issues of the "Preview Issue" still available, so if anyone wants one they can email me with their contact information. The new issue will have a great feature-length piece on Catholic horror films, a duel review (one pro, one con) of Kevin Costner's western Open Range, a fabulous parody/homage to H.P. Lovecraft and Hollywood, and much, much more as "they" say. For those of you who enjoyed the first issue, I'm sure you'll like this one as well.

Wherever the River is Going

My partner in crime, Lynda Rucker, has her new blog up and running. She's already posted some great pieces about "the beautiful game" and how it's currently consuming our lives, the latest from Italian horror director Dario Argento, and our plans on venturing down south to see the Once Upon a Time in Italy: The Westerns of Sergio Leone exhibit currently going on in Los Angeles.

Check out Lynda's blog at: lyndaerucker.blogspot.com

Update?

Well, contrary to what my friends say, I'm not dead. I'm just a lying, lazy, good for nothing bum. Actually, I've been working on the latest issue of Nightmare Town and on other writing related stuff. So there. If anyone out there actually cares, the blog site is not dead. It's just resting its eyes. So stay tuned . . . .

Debra Hill, the producer of a few of John Carpenter's finest films, including the classic Halloween (and the first two pesky, lesser sequels that I pretend don't exist), The Fog, and Escape from New York, as well as films such as David Cronenberg's adaptation of The Dead Zone, and Terry Gilliam's The Fisher King, died today at the age of 54. For those of us who fed our imaginations with those early, fabulous Carpenter films, her death is a sad one indeed. For more info, check out the link:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/4328323.stm

Update Coming Soon!

I realize it's been awhile since my last update, but it's been pretty busy around here lately as I've been working on the next issue of the zine, among other creative endeavors. But I will post some new reviews within the next couple of days, including pieces on The Blind Swordsman--Zatoichi, Badaasssss!, Time of the Wolf, Bright Future, Old Boy, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, Dark Water, a bunch of Shaw Brothers kung-fu stuff, and I'm sure some other things that I've forgotten. So stay tuned if you still give a damn!

Fish Don’t Carry Guns: Dagon (2001)

Two American couples, vacationing on a yacht somewhere off the coast of Spain, run into trouble when a violent storm rages in and tosses the vessel onto a rock. The younger couple, Barbara (Macarena Gomez) and Paul (Ezra Godden), take a dingy to the mainland for help while the other couple (the skipper and his injured wife) stay aboard the sinking craft and hope for the best. Paul and Barbara reach the shore and find themselves wandering the serpentine streets of an ancient fishing village looking for someone to help. A group of very strange fishermen offer to take Paul back to the yacht to save the others, while Barbara stays behind with the village priest. But when Paul returns to the yacht, the water has flooded the interior of the craft and his two friends are nowhere to be found. Paul returns to the village, which is now cloaked in night and the fury of the storm, to retrieve Barbara and to find somewhere warm and comfortable to gather his thoughts. Unfortunately, Barbara has disappeared from the hotel she was supposedly staying in and no one in the village—including the priest—seems able to help. Soon, it’s obvious to Paul that the villagers are not exactly . . . human. Chased, beaten, clawed, and generally freaked out, Paul meets up with an old man (Francisco Rabal) who has been living among the creatures since his youth, and the two of them team-up against the horrible tide of amphibious monsters.

Director Stuart Gordon, the man responsible for some of the most enjoyable B-movies of the last couple of decades (Re-Animator, From Beyond, Fortress), here gets a chance to finally realize his dream of bringing H. P. Lovecraft’s classic short story “The Shadow Over Innsmouth” to the big screen, with a little borrowed from the story “Dagon” as well. Rich in visual ideas and suspense, Dennis Paoli’s screenplay is also the first on-screen Lovecraft adaptation that has convincingly contained a truly passive protagonist in the Lovecraft mold. Un-heroic, scared, and generally irritating, Paul nevertheless becomes courageous by being forced into getting out of increasingly dire situations. He has no choice but to react and fight, even though his natural instinct is to curl into a little ball and cry. And though Lovecraft himself would’ve no doubt loathed Gordon’s gleeful depictions of aberrant sex, explicit gore, and other Grand Guignol delectations, Dagon is faithful to Lovecraft’s overall mood of cosmic nihilism. It isn’t perfect, but until a director more attuned to Lovecraft’s philosophical ideas and epic visuals (or until a major studio decides to fund such an obvious big budget endeavor) comes around, Dagon will do just fine.

Available on DVD from Lion's Gate Home Entertainment.

Hard-Boiled Wonderland

Lynda Rucker, my partner in crime, and our dear friend Dave Schwartz have both recently posted great pieces on their respective web sites/blogs. Check out Lynda's January 12th post about some of the excellent crime fiction she's been reading:

http://www.sff.net/people/lyndaerucker/books2005.html

And Dave writes about re-visiting director John Woo's gun fu orgy of bullets, Hard Boiled:

http://journalscape.com/snurri/2005-01-15-16:18

Build My Gallows High, Baby: Out of the Past (1947)

It’s like a battle of the mugs—Robert Mitchum and Kirk Douglas, squared-off and tussling for domination of femme fatale Jane Greer. Sure, supposedly it’s about money, but we know what it’s really about. Doughboy syndicate thug Whit Sterling (Douglas) hires private dick Jeff Bailey (Mitchum) to track down the lovely and ethically-challenged Kathie Moffat (Greer). Bailey takes the job and travels down Mexico way to stalk his wild prey. But once he finds Moffat in Acapulco, he falls head over heels in love with her and quicker than you can say “Doh!” Bailey and Moffat flee to San Francisco to start a new life far away from the clutches of Sterling and his goons. Riveting stuff, to be sure, and that’s only the first half-hour. To say any more would be murder. The rest is pure cinematic pleasure; the kind of movie making Hollywood sure doesn’t care about today. I’m not even sure they could make it even if they tried. Director Taylor Hackford tried to re-make the film—as Against All Odds—back in 1984 with Jeff Bridges in the Mitchum role, James Woods substituting as Douglas, and the horribly miscast Rachel Ward standing in for Jane Greer (who also has a bit cameo in the film). The whole affair was dreary pseudo-noir with a sunny California twist.

Out of the Past is the quintessential film noir. A palpable sense of doom and self-destruction haunt every frame, pulling the viewer down into the inevitable blackness awaiting bad guy gone good, Bailey. At the beginning of the film, when Bailey’s past comes back to smack him in the kisser, we almost believe him when he tells his small town girlfriend Ann (Virginia Huston) that he’s just a normal guy, a good guy who’s content running a little gas station in Nowhereville, California. But by the end of Bailey’s confession—he tells Ann about his wicked, wicked past while the two drive up to Sterling’s Lake Tahoe abode—we know he’s lying. Bailey still hungers for Moffat, still hungers for the lifestyle of booze, tawdry sex, and violence that fueled him for so many misbegotten years. Snappy dialogue, crisp direction from Jacques Tourneur (Cat People, Curse of the Demon, and Nightfall, among many others), co-star Rhonda Fleming (her brief appearance just oozes sex), and fabulous performances easily make this film the classic that it is.

Available on DVD from Warner Home Video.