Nightmare Town ~ ruminations on the dark fantastic

New Blog: Detours

2008-03-28T14:06:00.000-07:00

Although I will leave this blog up for the time being, I can be reached at my brand new spankin' blog:

http://derekhill.wordpress.com/

It's like getting a new haircut or getting new sneakers! And if you like football (soccer), me and the apm gang can still be read over at:

http://aprettymove.blogspot.com/

Salut!

D

New Blog

2006-04-23T20:44:00.000-07:00

It was bound to happen. Along with my partner in crime, Lynda, and my dear friend Lisa, the three of us have eagerly--and perhaps foolishly--entered the world of blogging about one of our favorite pastimes . . . soccer. If any one out there is interested in reading our thoughts, ruminations, and just plain irreverent comments about the beautiful game, then head on over to:

http://aprettymove.blogspot.com/

Nightmare Town is certainly not going away--in fact I plan on getting back to it within the next few days or so--but I simply found that I needed some kind of outlet for all of the time I spend thinking and dreaming about life on the pitch.

Goodbye Wellspring

2006-03-03T18:39:00.000-08:00

And speaking of Harvey Weinstein and his brother, the infernal duo have bought up New York's cherished Wellspring Media, theatrical distributors for Tsai Ming-liang's enigmatic and luminous Goodbye, Dragon Inn, among other art house films that would probably not have seen any theatrical distribution if not for the floundering company.

Bastards.

Read more about it here.

Lost in America

2006-03-03T17:42:00.000-08:00

Here’s an interesting article about the dearth of wide theatrical distribution for foreign films here in the States and how our tastes have changed in contrast to the heyday of the 1960s thru the 1970s, when films from overseas didn’t just play in arthouse theaters or on college campuses. And it wasn’t just the foreign film behemoths—like Bergman, Kurosawa, Truffaut, Fellini, and Bunuel among others—which were being shown. Foreign genre fare, e.g. Spaghetti Westerns, Italian gothic horror and sword & sandal epics, Japanese kaiju eiga, and Hong Kong martial arts pictures were routinely flooding the market place—albeit in dubbed form—playing grindhouses and drive-in theaters all over. And they were also playing on television, which is how I first discovered them.

Yeah, times have changed and foreign films aren’t getting the theatrical distribution they once did. But there aren’t as many theaters around nowadays either. When I first read this article I got all indignant and sentimental. But it occurred to me that DVD has really helped in exposing individuals to the wild world of foreign films arguably more than ever before, especially if you own a multi-region player. Granted, most people simply don’t give a shit about quality domestic films let alone foreign ones, though occasionally the masses do seem to get out into the theaters to watch a subtitled picture, hence the successes of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Hero, and Kung Fu Hustle, all of which played wide and thankfully weren’t dubbed. And in regards to the Academy’s foreign film nominations this year . . . don’t get me started. Yeah, where was Cache, 2046 (probably my favorite film of the year), and Johnnie To’s Election?

The funniest and strangest part of the article, though, is reading Harvey Weinstein talk about how much he loves foreign films, blah, blah, blah. This is the man, remember, who bought up then shelved or edited a host of films when he ran Miramax. And it looks like his addiction to snipping down other people’s products hasn’t stopped, if his acquisition (though the Weinstein Co. has subsequently dropped the film) and cutting down of Chen Kaige’s The Promise from 122 minutes to 102 minutes is any indication. Luckily, if you’d rather watch the original version before the truncated version (courtesy of Warner Independent Pictures) plays theaters in May, you can simply watch the DVD.

Without further ado, here’s the Newsweek article:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/11432913/site/newsweek/

Octavia Butler 1947-2006

2006-02-26T22:05:00.000-08:00

Science-fiction writer Octavia Butler died Friday. She was only 58 years old. Like everyone else, I'm floored by the news. She was an amazing and gifted writer who managed to balance complex themes with engaging characters who were forced to navigate through sometimes dark and troubling circumstances. But Butler's work was always grounded in humanity and hope despite her sometimes pessimistic outlook.

Tragic news indeed. We've lost one of the greats.

For more info, check out the following links:

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2002831388_butlerobit27m.html

http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/books/260959_butlerobit26ww.html

http://darkush.blogspot.com/2006/02/octavia-butler-died-saturday.html

http://www.sfwa.org/news/2006/obutler.htm

http://lyndaerucker.blogspot.com/

Big Atonement: Sympathy for Lady Vengeance (2005)

2006-02-15T20:55:00.000-08:00

The 29th Portland International Film Festival is in full-swing, and though I haven’t actually ventured out to see any of the films on the big screen yet (that $9 ticket price is just too rich for my wallet at the moment), I did manage to track down an import DVD of Park Chan-wook’s latest film, Sympathy for Lady Vengeance (or Lady Vengeance as it has sadly been rechristened here in the States), the third film in Park’s loose “Vengeance Trilogy” and the follow-up to 2003’s magnificent and unforgettable hardboiled thriller Oldboy. For those of you who have seen Oldboy (and if you haven’t and still call yourself a film lover, you better hand in your resignation) or Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance from 2002, you know what cinematic brilliance Park is capable of. The Korean director is a sly and ruthless provocateur who manages to balance a brazen visual sense with compelling melodramatic (sometimes) storylines and tortured guilt-plagued characters. And, oh yes, then there’s the violence. There’s no getting around the fact that Park’s trilogy of vengeance-fuelled films are frequently savage and shocking in their willingness to plunge us into the crimson-induced obsessions of his protagonists. But his films are also exhilarating, ironic, surreal (who can forget the ant seated on the subway in Oldboy?), and humorous.

Lynda and I saw Oldboy at last year’s PIFF and were stunned by the film. I quickly sought out Mr. Vengeance, Joint Security Area, and his contribution to the Asian horror anthology film Three… Extremes, entitled Cut, and easily became a committed fan of his work. Here was a director to be reckoned with, though I was a bit perplexed as to where he would venture creatively next, especially when I heard that he was going to follow-up Oldboy with another revenge storyline. Shouldn’t he take a break from all that mayhem, I thought, before completing the trilogy? Maybe venture out and make an outright comedy or return to the political thriller mode that he no doubt can pull off, like in J.S.A. And even if he did make the final film in the trilogy at this point in his career, there was no way that Park was going to be able to match the creative peak of Oldboy. Right?

Wrong. I’m not going to say much about the plot of Lady Vengeance because knowing little or nothing about the film is the only way to go into it, the only way to fully experience the seductive power of its intent and to ride the emotional tidal waves that overpower during the film’s second half. Technically, the entire film is an unmitigated tour de force—elegantly composed yet willing to circumvent viewer’s expectations by changing the dramatic beats of the traditional i.e. basic revenge storyline whenever we grow too comfortable or acclimated to what is transpiring on screen. No doubt, Park loves to jazz about. But if there was nothing substantial to anchor the excess of style, I would have little patience with him and I don’t think that Lady Vengeance would be able to weather the repeatability factor (I watched it twice in 24 hours). Actress Lee Yeong-ae gives one of the finest performances of the year as the stunningly attractive Lee Geum-ja, the titular Lady V. who is bent on some serious payback once she’s released from prison after 13 years, and the fabulous Choi Min-sik (Oh Dae-su from Oldboy) as Mr. Baek easily grounds the film when Park’s visual flourishes are in full flight (which is most of the time). But there’s genuine emotion amidst all of the sensational mayhem, and Park’s solemn resolution after so much brutality is what last longest in my mind.

Lady Vengeance is harrowing stuff and much of its content is intentionally inflammatory and shocking. And though it’s difficult to defend the film without giving away some of its more startling moments, there is a method to it all and ultimately a responsible and moral exploration of how violence corrupts the soul. It’s also fiendishly entertaining and the best damn feel-bad film around.

(Sympathy for) Lady Vengeance plays at the PIFF on 2/17/06 and 2/18/06. It’s also available on import DVD here.

Nice Guy Eddie R.I.P.

2006-01-25T23:11:00.000-08:00

Actor Chris Penn, the younger brother of fellow thespian Sean and musician Michael, was found dead yesterday due to unknown causes. Like his famous brother, Chris began working in films early and co-starred in Francis Coppola's Rumble Fish, All the Right Moves (along with Tom Cruise), Footloose, Clint Eastwood's Pale Rider, and Robert Altman's Short Cuts, among many others. Some of my favorite Chris Penn roles were from The Wild Life (scripted by Cameron Crowe as a follow-up to Fast Times at Ridgemont High), Made in USA (a rarely seen "road trip" film with Lori Singer and Adrian Pasdar), At Close Range (an excellent crime film by James Foley and starring Sean Penn and Christopher Walken), True Romance, and of course, Reservoir Dogs, in which Penn played the foul-mouthed and very loyal Nice Guy Eddie.

He'll be missed. You can read more about the criminally overlooked character actor here.

Then Why'd You Hire Him in the First Place?

2006-01-23T17:56:00.000-08:00

The notorious and ubiquitous Japanese director Takashi Miike’s entry for the Showtime anthology series, Masters of Horror, has been yanked from the schedule and will instead be released on DVD uncut. The prolific filmmaker, who has a penchant for disturbing, bizarre, and outright violent subject matter (Audition, MPD Psycho, Visitor Q, Ichi the Killer, among loads of others)—though his latest feature-film is a kid’s movie based on the splendid Yokai Monsters fantasy-horror series from the 1960s—has been given the boot because . . . his entry was disturbing, bizarre, and violent. Go figure. Creator and executive producer Mick Garris (he’s also the director of the execrable Sleepwalkers, and the television mini-series The Stand and The Shining) was quoted in The New York Times as saying Miike’s film for Showtime, entitled Imprint, was “definitely the most disturbing film” he’d ever seen. Well, I should hope so. I’m not the biggest Miike admirer around (though I . . . eh, loved Audition and I enjoyed his entry for the Three Extremes anthology film) but the man definitely knows how to craft grueling, transgressive horror films. What did the folks over at Showtime think they were going to get?

You can read more about the whole ordeal here.

I Don't Know My Way Home: Straw Dogs (1971)

2006-01-17T23:42:00.000-08:00

In the wake of the recently released Sam Peckinpah DVD boxed set, I’ve been prepping myself by watching some of his earlier released discs before I plunge headfirst into the goldmine. That’s not to say that some of Peckinpah’s masterpieces haven’t already been unleashed upon the public. Far from it. The infamous director arguably has a stable full of classic films in his short if uneven oeuvre, including this staggeringly brutal meditation on violence starring Dustin Hoffman. Straw Dogs, based on a novel by Gordon Williams entitled The Siege of Trencher’s Farm, was notorious when it originally hit theater screens in 1971 (the same year that Eastwood appeared as the titular Dirty Harry and Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange pillaged patrons with its dystopian SF parable) and its unbridled power and relentless capacity to provoke and outrage viewers hasn’t abated one bit. I’ve seen it a few times before and its lucid yet bewildering treatise on the violence that swims within even the most “civilized” of individuals still continues to fascinate as well as sicken and horrify me. Although Peckinpah had previously dealt with the theme of man’s predilection toward committing carnage, and the almost ritualistic need to do so, most notably in his sure-fire masterpiece The Wild Bunch (newly re-released with the boxed set), Straw Dogs is probably the most brilliant and methodical examination of what motivates a person to kill that the director ever created. The film’s main question is simple: What will it take for a “civilized” person to destroy another person? But it’s the can of worms that ensues that is even more troubling. In killing someone, what do you surrender within yourself? And is violence the natural state of man? The answers to those conundrums are not proffered in the course of the film’s running time, though if they had been, I’m not so sure we would be too pleased. It’s potent stuff, to say the least, but also greatly entertaining.

Set in the west coast of England, in a quant if dismal little village in Cornwall, American mathematician David Sumner (Hoffman) and his wife Amy (Susan George), who is originally from the village, move into her late father’s ancestral stone cottage with dreams of starting a new life away from the crime and pollution of the States. Of course, this being a Peckinpah film, David’s and Amy’s attempt at domestic bliss is shattered by a horrendous incident and David is forced into finally making a stand against his provokers, as well as coming to grips with the darkness within. The screenplay by David Zelag Goodman and Peckinpah deftly thwarts our expectations at every turn by constantly twisting or changing the plot points leading to the inevitable. The road to perdition may be unavoidable for David, but there’s no clear journey there and the catalysts that we were so positive would ensnare him or push him over the brink wind up being meaningless in the big picture.

Peckinpah’s films (at least the important ones) are like cinematic Rorschach blots, never quite revealing the same thing to everyone. To some, the director is a macho provocateur wallowing in misogynistic representations of women and celebrating the most vile, ugly, and brutish characteristics in men. To others, he’s the last great American director in the tradition of Hawks and Ford before the film school brats (e.g. Coppola, De Palma, Lucas, Scorsese, and Spielberg) usurped the throne of 1970s Hollywood, a maverick larger-than-life personality who challenged the celluloid dream factory and lost. I guess I’m somewhere in the middle of the two camps. There’s no doubt in my mind that Peckinpah’s best films (Ride the High Country, Major Dundee, The Wild Bunch, Straw Dogs, Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia) are the work of a mature and gifted artist, though many of them (Straw Dogs, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia most notably) also betray a profound misanthropy that borders on the morbid and nihilistic. The characters in the latter two films both transform into their new roles as men of violence so thoroughly that it borders on the psychopathic, though Warren Oates’ Bennie, from Bring Me the Head, at least hasn’t forsaken redemption altogether. He at least still covets the idea of redemption, even though his instincts know better. When David Sumner crosses over in Straw Dogs, there’s not even the slightest glimmer of reason left in him. He fully accepts his new role as killer angel, and as the protector of his bloodied homestead without a trace of self-knowledge or insight. He’s pure animal instinct at that point, and the transformation/rampage against the attackers is horrifyingly funny because of his lack of self-control. There’s also nothing more disturbing than witnessing someone lost within the thickets of his own personal moral oblivion.

Every time I return to the film, I’m reminded just how coherent and troubling its “message” is. I’m also stunned by how thorough Peckinpah’s lust to hurt us truly is. Obviously, he wants to shock us with the overt build-up of tension and the orgasmic violence that eventually overcomes us. But he more importantly wants to incite a riot of thought inside us, as well. Forget David Sumner. What would you do in the same situation? And would you like it?

Straw Dogs has been released onto DVD a few times here in the States, though never better than in the 2-disc Criterion Collection edition (which is now sadly out of print). The print is superb—the best I’ve ever seen it—and the wealth of extras (including two excellent essays, a feature-length documentary on Peckinpah, and some candid interviews with actress Susan George and producer Daniel Melnick) really help to clarify some of the film’s trickier and more unsettling motivations. Though really, I’m not sure any justification or explanation can tame this dark beast of a film, even thirty-some-years on.

A Fistful of Sushi or: Confessions of a Fellow Asian Film Freak

2006-01-05T18:53:00.000-08:00

Jonathan Ross is a British radio/television host and confirmed lover of the strange, wild, weird, and bizarre as it relates to film. Back in the late-1980s he hosted a pretty good Cult Film 101 documentary called The Incredibly Strange Film Show which aired on A & E (I think) here in the U.S. Well, Ross is hosting a new show entitled Jonathan Ross's Asian Invasion next week on BBC4. Unfortunately, I don't live in Britain and I only get BBC America on the ol' digital cable, which I'd wager wont be airing this anytime soon if at all. I love Asian film in all its various and complex permutations, so I got a kick out of this article from the Guardian Unlimited, giving us all a little taste of what Mr Ross will offer up:

http://film.guardian.co.uk/features/featurepages/0,4120,1680108,00.html

Not My Blood: War of the Worlds (2005)

2006-01-04T15:06:00.000-08:00

(Contains Spoilers)

In many ways this is the first real post-911 American science fiction film. The horror genre already has 21 Days Later by Danny Boyle (an Englishman) and George Romero’s fourth installment in his “Living Dead” series, Land of the Dead, but Steven Spielberg is the first American director to truly capture the neurosis, dread, and fear of contemporary life in the wake of a cataclysmic event. Spielberg and screenwriters John Friedman and David Koepp echo the events of September 11th with calculated expertise, first igniting our fascination as the strange storms come roiling into view above Jersey, then funneling our horrible interest into outright fear as the first Martian machine uproots from its concrete prison beneath Cruise’s feet and unleashes destruction. Those scenes of mob mayhem are executed skillfully and seem tainted with deja vu. The Calamity of Hurricane Katrina, though obviously unintended due to the fact that it happened long after the film’s production, also came to mind several times as Cruise and family joined the ranks of the refugees. But many of the scenes involving the human exodus fleeing from the towering metal machines fluidly stalking our cities and countryside reminded me of WW2 film footage or snapshots—trees on fire, streets littered with debris and rubble, people disoriented with the soot of death heavy in the air. I kept thinking of Warsaw in flames and of the long dark night cast over Europe as the Third Reich’s own infernal machines pulverized the earth and its soldiers harvested the “other” for slaughter. During the scenes where the refugees attempt to flee on the ferry, images of the Jews were also ever-present in my mind. The film reminded me that much of human history could be viewed as a series of exoduses, escapes, and flights from one calamity to the next.

Spielberg’s take on H. G. Wells’ classic (and brilliant) novel is unarguably flawed, but there are so many fascinating and perverse images and themes here that it is impossible to dismiss. Upon my second viewing (I originally saw it in the theater), the film’s strengths (its visual design, apocalyptic atmosphere, Spielberg’s willingness to disturb) and weaknesses (questionable performances, heavy-handed desire to turn the End of the World into some sort of therapy session for Cruise and his family) become more apparent to me. The most cringe-inducing weakness is no doubt the film’s hackneyed and saccharine ending. Yet, the conclusion—with Cruise and family reunited to begin a brand new day—is an appropriate (albeit clumsy) dénouement of the film’s coherent and focused themes of maintaining the unity of the family at all costs and the belief in the restoration of the social order; a belief in the social order. Bad though it may be, I found the finale far more palatable than the misguided endings to Spielberg’s Artificial Intelligence: A.I. (a film I like very much despite several flaws) and Minority Report (a film I enjoyed up until the last twenty-minutes or so). Perhaps I simply found War of the Worlds’ Dr. Phil influenced finale to be a bit more agreeable considering it only lasted a minute or so, instead of the dreadful, overlong endings I suffered through for both A.I. and Minority Report.

Although I’ve disliked many of his films and have problems with even the ones I do enjoy outside of Jaws and Close Encounters of the Third Kind (arguably his best films), I find Spielberg more and more interesting as time goes by. There’s no doubt that he’s in touch with humanity’s shadow and the dreadful things we’ll do when faced with adversity. He’s fascinated with our darker nature. But I never get the sense that he’s in touch with his own shadow self. For all his cinematic wizardry and his sure-footedness in obtaining some great performances from his actors, his films (I’m talking about the “serious” ones like Schindler’s List and Saving Private Ryan) remain antiseptic and simplistic beneath their blitzkrieg exteriors and relish in documenting unimaginable bloodshed with the utmost “realism” and technical accomplishments. I’ve heard that Spielberg’s latest, Munich, does plunge us into a character’s heart of darkness effectively, so perhaps I’ll have to rethink all of this once I’ve seen it (hopefully next week).

Until then, I’ll stick with Spielberg’s “entertainments.” A few critics routinely dismissed War of the Worlds’ middle section with Cruise and Dakota Fanning (who plays his daughter) hunkering down in the cellar with former ambulance driver Tim Robbins, while the blood harvest rages up top, as a ponderous, murky, and meandering interlude. It dragged down the pace of the popcorn blockbuster too much. I couldn’t disagree more. I found it, upon second viewing, to be the black heart of the film. Cruise’s murder of Robbins as a way to restore order to his fractured family is disturbing, depraved, and fascinating by its implications. It’s a moment of genius when Fanning’s character slowly comprehends what her father has done; that what’s been unleashed down in that dank cellar may be worse than the machines themselves. It may not equal anything in Michael Haneke’s stark apocalyptic film, Time of the Wolf, but it’s rare that an American blockbuster nowadays would even hint at the lengths many would go to keep up appearances.

Ennio Morricone: Crime and Dissonance

2006-01-03T16:39:00.000-08:00

Well, the Christmas season is over and I’ve been laying low, trying to maintain my sanity after mingling with some of my more crazy relatives, and just generally keeping it together. One of the ways I maintain equilibrium is through music. This year, Bad Santa was extremely gracious by delivering into my quivering hands the new two-disc Ennio Morricone CD collection, Crime and Dissonance. Yeah, I know, do we really need another Morricone collection? He’s a prolific composer to say the least, and the numerous compilations, remixes, and original soundtracks themselves document whatever style the maestro was mastering at the time. Well, after listening to the first couple of tracks off of disc one, there’s no doubt in my mind that this is one of the finest, most thematically consistent compilations of Morricone’s late-1960s, early-1970s period. It’s a strong addition to any Morricone aficionado’s collection. This is bold, experimental, psychedelic, sexy, scary, and sometimes transcendent music, charting Morricone’s work outside of the Spaghetti Western work he’s rightfully renowned for. Compiled by Alan Bishop and with liner notes from avant-garde composer John Zorn (who recorded his own tribute to Morricone with his brilliant CD The Big Gundown), the tracks tend to favor the glimmering darkness that Morricone was exploring at the time; though plenty of the tracks are not dark by any means, strangeness and exoticism are ever-present. It’s a relatively perfect mix-tape of aural shades and shifting sonic textures, failing to be the holy grail of Morricone compilations simply because such a collection would have to be twice as long to attain such an honor. I think I’ll always favor the epic, playful, emotional majesty Morricone attained in his work for Sergio Leone’s westerns, but for my ears this is nevertheless pure acid-drenched bliss.

Crime and Dissonance is available on CD from the fantastic Ipecac Recordings label, which puts out loads of other strange sounds from strange people. Check ‘em out.

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

2005-12-15T22:23:00.000-08:00

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)

2005-12-14T02:13:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-10T02:43:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-09T22:40:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-08T02:10:00.000-08:00

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

2005-12-05T21:49:00.000-08:00

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)

2005-12-02T21:55:00.000-08:00

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!

2005-12-01T18:00:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-29T17:51:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-25T23:05:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-24T02:01:00.000-08:00

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)

2005-11-20T20:29:00.000-08:00

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)

2005-11-16T18:38:00.000-08:00

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)

2005-11-15T00:37:00.000-08:00

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)

2005-11-12T01:07:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-11-11T18:44:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-11-10T02:16:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-11-09T01:11:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-11-08T01:54:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-08T01:45:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-10-19T00:36:00.000-07:00

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!

2005-09-29T00:09:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-25T22:16:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-23T20:51:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-18T01:21:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-17T14:33:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-14T23:46:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-14T00:02:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-07T01:05:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-05T15:42:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-02T02:02:00.000-07:00

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 /

2005-09-02T01:14:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-08-30T00:53:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-08-30T00:50:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-08-26T00:37:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-08-24T22:56:00.000-07:00

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.htm l

2005-08-19T11:45:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-08-14T16:16:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-08-14T15:50:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-08-14T13:48:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-08-14T13:29:00.000-07:00

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 . . . .

2005-08-14T13:07:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-08-14T12:54:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-08-14T12:39:00.000-07:00

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

2005-04-25T21:12:00.000-07:00

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 . . . .

2005-03-07T22:39:00.000-08:00

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

2005-03-05T00:18:00.000-08:00

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!

2005-01-18T22:36:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-01-18T01:40:00.000-08:00

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

2005-01-12T17:01:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-01-09T17:09:00.000-08:00

Comfortably Numb: Thriller—A Cruel Picture a.k.a. They Call Her One Eye (1974)

After being wined and dined by a slick, savvy, Swedish playboy (i.e. pimp), teenage Madeleine (Christina Lindberg) is forced into a life of prostitution and heroin addiction. Tony the pimp (Heinz Hopf) controls Madeleine’s every move, and even disfigures her beautiful face by plucking out her eye when she refuses to comply with servicing a “john.” But when one-eyed Madeleine learns that Tony has sent hate-filled letters to her rural parents--which subsequently break their hearts and propel them to kill themselves--she focuses to emancipate herself from the tyranny of victimization through the holy communion of kung fu, learning how to drive a car “faster than any man,” and the baptism of the shotgun. Violence equals freedom for the eye-patch wearing assassin and let all who oppose her drown in streamers of slow-mo blood.

In many ways, Thriller is the ultimate revenge, exploitation picture, and it’s obvious why it strongly influenced Quentin Tarantino for his marvelous, though radically tamer Kill Bill films. Brutal, sleazy, and oddly poetic, Thriller manages to exhilarate the viewer as much as confound. Director Bo Arne Vibenius (who was Ingmar Bergman’s assistant director on Persona and Hour of the Wolf) films the proceedings in a rather curious, cold, deadpan Swedish style that ultimately castrates our demand for cinematic catharsis. By the end, we’re left feeling a bit soiled and numb. Nevertheless, it’s a deliciously satisfying guilty pleasure.

Available on DVD from Synapse-Films.

2005-01-09T15:44:00.000-08:00

The First One is Always Free

Nightmare Town the journal of film, books, music & more is officially out and you can get your grubby little claws on it by emailing me directly, or if you live in the Portland area, you can pick one up at Cinema 21 (616 NW 21st Avenue), Trilogy Video (2325 NW Thurman), and at Twenty-Third Avenue Books (1015 NW 23rd Avenue). It will be available in some other spots around town as well, hopefully soon. And the first issue (#0 the Preview Issue) is FREE! So what are you waiting for? Drop me a line or pick one up at any of the above places.

2004-12-20T16:38:00.000-08:00

Zine Update

The first issue of Nightmare Town, the journal, is about to see the light of day. Issue #0, the preview issue, is thirty-six pages of film, book, and music essays and reviews. Included are lengthy pieces on:

The Seven Stigmata of Guillermo Del Toro by W. S. Gregory

Love, Death, and Coming of Age: Hellboy by Lisa Moore

Michael McDowell's Dark Currents: The Blackwater Series by Lynda E. Rucker

The Kramers v.s. The Brood by Lisa Moore

Also included is an excellent examination of the classic Japanese horror film, Kwaidan, by Scott McMillan, a look at the Lone Wolf & Cub graphic novels by David J. Schwartz, and Dean Sharp's Sonic Doom! Plus a bunch of short reviews and a little something called Under the Influence, wherein two inebriated movie watchers try to make sense out of the travesty that is The Butterfly Effect.

Interested in a copy? You can place an order now by emailing me at:

nightmaretown@gmail.com

The first issue is free, though subsequent issues (the next one won't be out until late-spring) will cost a small amount.

2004-12-20T16:19:00.000-08:00

Film Reviews Update

A bunch of my most recent reviews have gone live over at the excellent Images web site. A few Japanese yakuza and exploitation films, Yasujiro Ozu's splendid masterpiece Floating Weeds, and the low-budget, black & white adaptation of the cult classic oddity that is Wisconsin Death Trip. Check 'em all out:

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/Wisconsin/

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/sada/

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/floatingweeds/

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/hasebe/

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/battleswithout/

2004-10-19T21:45:00.000-07:00

Yakuza Dreams

For those of you who have ever seen the brilliant Branded to Kill or Tokyo Drifter, you know what a remarkable and anarchistic director Seijun Suzuki is. Three more of his films have recently been released on these shores, and although they aren't as over-the-top and stylistically shocking as the above mentioned films (Branded to Kill got Suzuki fired for life from Nikkatsu studios), they are splendidly hallucinatory and entertaining.

Check out my review at the Images web site:

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/suzuki/

2004-09-29T01:49:00.000-07:00

Update

Well, I'm back from Japan and just starting to get my equilibrium back. That means plenty of updates, reviews, and a whole lot more. So please check back! I'll have something new here by the end of the week. And there's also the hard copy of Nightmare Town which should be ready to hit the dark city streets within the next couple of weeks or so. Be ready, it's gonna be cool.

2004-08-20T01:43:00.000-07:00

Update Coming Soon!

A lot has been going on around these parts, namely making Nightmare Town a hardcopy zine. Unlike this blog, which I realize is not updated as much as it should be, the print version of Nightmare Town will be full of film and book reviews and essays focusing on the horror, crime, and Western genres. Also, anything that is just dark, weird, and simply can't be comfortably squeezed into a genre box will also be covered. There will also be a music column and much, much more. Oh, and the best part is, it's not going to be all written by moi! That's right, there are a number of excellent writers contributing to this peculiar, misshapen endeavor known as Nightmare Town.

If you're interested in grabbing the first issue, keep checking back for info on how to get it. You can also email me at the above address. Hopefully, the first issue will be out within the next few weeks before I leave for Japan.

Cheers!

2004-08-03T18:07:00.000-07:00

Images Update

Fans of Japanese cinema might be interested to know that I've got two new reviews live at the Images site. Check them out at:

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/cure/

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/fukasaku/

More reviews should be going up within the next couple of weeks, so check back if you're so inclined.

2004-07-20T17:11:00.000-07:00

Bloody Birthday Greetings

It's novelist Cormac McCarthy's birthday today. McCarthy is the author of numerous books, including All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing, and Cities of the Plains. But my favorite is Blood Meridian, McCarthy's black magic Western incantation to the beast in man. Here's a quote from Mr. McCarthy:

"There's no such thing as life without bloodshed. I think the notion that the species can be improved in some way, that everyone could live in harmony, is a really dangerous idea. Those who are afflicted with this notion are the first ones to give up their souls, their freedom. Your desire that it be that way will enslave you and make your life vacuous."

Amen.

2004-07-14T00:56:00.000-07:00

Mild Devotion to Majesty

The new Polyphonic Spree CD, Together We're Heavy, came out today in North America and it is indeed a fucking masterpiece. Go now, brothers and sisters! Go now and partake of this wonderful, beautiful, cosmic soundscape before it's too late. The End is nigh and you must enjoy these sounds while you still can! It's dark here in Nightmare Town, so you gotta receive salvation where and when you can!

2004-07-13T00:13:00.000-07:00

Ramsey Campbell

It's sad to think that there are some people in the world who have never had the, eh . . . pleasure . . . of reading a Ramsey Campbell novel or short story. In all seriousness, he is probably the greatest living practitioner of the modern horror tale. Campbell is prolific, so you should choose wisely when first approaching him. For novels, start with either Nazareth Hill (1997), The Darkest Part of the Woods (2002), The Doll Who Ate His Mother (1975), or the truly harrowing The Face that Must Die (Scream/Press edition, 1983). For short stories, a good place to start is with the splendid Arkham House anthology, Alone with the Horrors (1993).

Here's a link to a pretty good interview with Mr. Campbell on the Suicide Girls web site:

http://suicidegirls.com/words/Ramsey+Campbell/

And while you're there, don't forget to check out Quinne, Jenna, Seraphim, Danielle, Adora, or any of the other lovely girls who make life a little more interesting!

2004-07-02T15:43:00.000-07:00

R.I.P. Part Two

Marlon Brando died today at the age of 80. If you knew Brando only for his intermittent film work during the 1980s and 1990s, then you haven't had the pleasure of witnessing a truly great actor at work. His body of work will live on, no doubt continuing to fascinate, frustrate, and ultimately serve as a template for what acting can achieve.

Check out the following links for more info:

http://film.guardian.co.uk/news/story/0,12589,1252926,00.html

http://film.guardian.co.uk/news/story/0,12589,1252894,00.html

http://film.guardian.co.uk/gall/0,8544,1252898,00.html

2004-07-01T22:31:00.000-07:00

R.I.P.

One of the last of the original pulp writers, Hugh B. Cave, died on June 27th at the age of 93. Although he wrote in various genres, he's arguably best known for his horror short stories "Stragella", "The Brotherhood of Blood", and "Murgunstruum". In 1991, Cave received the Life-Achievement Bram Stoker Award.

Check out the link for more info:

http://news.independent.co.uk/people/obituaries/story.jsp?story=536546

2004-06-28T21:03:00.000-07:00

Eyes Wide Open

I'm still sort of speechless after seeing Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 last night. Although I enjoyed Roger & Me (1989) for the most part, I wasn't exactly a fan. In fact, the guy downright bugged me and my skin crawled everytime some bug-eyed, malnourished peacenik or well-fed, affluent liberal from the West Hills warbled on and on about how amazing he was as if he were Christ, blah blah blah. Nevertheless, I couldn't wait to see Fahrenheit 9/11 ever since I heard he was making it. Imagine the possibilities, I wondered. This could really help turn the tide against King George and perhaps America at large would finally realize that it had been asleep at the wheel for four years now. Even though I didn't exactly like Moore's style of snarky filmmaking and his unfortunate habit of stretching facts to fit his version of the truth, I was hopeful that he would use his power wisely and not fuck up this chance to "expose" the sordid underbelly of King George's realm.

I wasn't disappointed. In fact, I think the film was even better than I had hoped for. I'm still grappling for words to express how brilliant and powerful a lot of it was. Sure, Moore slips up a few times, but the film is an earnest and occasionally brutal rescue attempt to help wipe the sleep from Lady Liberty's punchdrunk eyes. If you haven't already gone to see it, go! Think about it, discuss it, and make up your own mind. And vote, damn it. Vote!

For more info, go to: http://www.michaelmoore.com/

2004-06-28T20:35:00.000-07:00

The Good War

I was just thumbing through the introduction to Charles Willeford's novel, The High Priest of California, and I was taken with a quote by the late Mr. Willeford regarding his tenure in the military during WWII. For those of you who don't know who Willeford was, he was one of the best practioners of the hardboiled genre during its heyday. He's probably best known for his Hoke Moseley series, including Miami Blues, which was made into a film in 1990 starring Fred Ward as Moseley, and co-starring Alec Baldwin and Jennifer Jason Leigh. Pretty good stuff, although the book is far better. Anyway . . . here's the quote:

"A good half of the men you deal with in the Army are psychopaths. There's a pretty hefty overlap between the military population and the prison population, so I knew plenty of guys like Junior in Miami Blues and Troy in Sideswipe. Like, some of these other Tankers I knew used to swap bottles of liqor with infantrymen in exchange for prisoners, and then just shoot 'em for fun. I used to say, 'Goddamn it, will you stop shooting those prisoners!' And they would just shrug and say, 'Hell, they'd shoot us if they caught us!' Which was true, they used to shoot any Tankers they captured. So that of behavior became normal to them, and I used to wonder, 'What's gonna happen to these guys when they go back into civilian life? How are they gonna act?' You can't just turn it off and go to work in a 7-11. If you're good with weapons or something in the Army, you're naturally gonna do something with weapons when you get out, whether it's being a cop or a criminal. These guys learned to do all sorts of things in the Army that just weren't considered normal by civilian standards."

So here's to the Good War. May there be many more!

2004-06-12T02:51:00.000-07:00

UPDATE!

Well, it's coming. I should have a bunch of new entries next week. Stay tuned. Really . . . I'm serious. What?

2004-05-19T18:15:00.000-07:00

Ann Coulter's Favorite Comedian

There's not a lot of laughter around these parts. Nightmare Town is hardcore, man. It's tough, mean, and the only laughter you'll hear will be at your expense. But we sure do love Andy Kaufman. We miss him dearly. And the word on the street is . . . he's alive. Really. Don't believe me? Check out this link and read all about it:

http://andykaufmanreturns.blogspot.com/

Sure, it's probably a hoax. But what if . . . .

2004-05-14T14:07:00.000-07:00

The Spaghetti Files: A Man Called Sledge (1970)

James Garner, playing against type, is Sledge. And he’s a very bad man. A ruthless bandit and killer, Sledge is one guy you do not want to get involved with. But Sledge is getting old and he’s looking to cash out, so to speak. Just one more score should do the trick. He’s got an experienced bunch of gunslingers with him -- including Claude Akins and Dennis Weaver -- and the big payoff awaiting them is definitely worth the risk. Only problem is . . . the payoff (a cache of gold that could keep a small country afloat) is inside a federal prison.

Directed by American actor Vic Morrow (The Blackboard Jungle, Twilight Zone: The Movie), the film was shot in Spain with an Italian crew and subsequently feels a lot more like a Spaghetti Western than its American Western peers. Morally complex, violent, and with an attention for the gritty anti-poetic details of life in the wild, wild west that its American counterparts of the time eschewed (Sam Peckinpah excluded), A Man Called Sledge is a sadly underrated good time.

A Man Called Sledge is available on DVD from Columbia-TriStar Home Entertainment.

2004-05-14T11:34:00.009-07:00

Images Update

I've got a couple new reviews up over at the Images web site. They were both written awhile back but just went live today. The first one is for the Spanish arthouse/horror film, In a Glass Cage (1986), and the second one is on Peter Weir's 1975 apocalyptic SF film, The Cars That Ate Paris. Check 'em out:

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/inglasscage/

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/carsateparis/

2004-05-14T00:20:00.000-07:00

Saints and Ghouls: Dance with the Devil a.k.a. Perdita Durango (1997)

Barry Gifford writes like a possessed priest. He writes about the hard way and the nightside roads most of us are afraid to travel down. He writes with an insight into human nature that is disturbing yet always entrancing. And like Elmore Leonard, the modern crime fiction master of the American Burn Out, Gifford does it all in a stripped down humorous style. Dance with the Devil, directed by Alex de la Iglesia (the man responsible for the satanically enjoyable Day of the Beast from 1995) and adapted from Gifford’s novel Perdita Durango, is sort of a follow-up to David Lynch’s Wild at Heart (1990) but with more teeth. Starring Rosie Perez as Perdita (she’s really good, honest!) and the great Javier Bardem as Romeo Dolorosa, the drug dealing Santeria priest who wins Perdita’s black little heart all for himself, Iglesia’s amoral killers-on-the-run film is flawed, but it’s also staggeringly good more so than not. Human sacrifices, kidnapped teens, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, James Gandolfini as a boneheaded yet dedicated federal agent bent on capturing Perdita, dead fetuses, and director Alex Cox (one of my faves) as a MIB who is very, very interested in them dead babies, are just some of the treats in store for those who like their comedy pitch black. This film’s tongue is so sharp it slices clear through its own cancerous cheek with a dexterity that would have made Ed Gein crack a smile. Think Oliver Stone’s Natural Born Killers lacked attitude and was a little corny? Well, give this one a shot.

Although it states on the DVD keep-case that the film is “unrated,” unfortunately that’s not the case. The original Spanish version of the film runs 126 minutes and contains a few more scenes of violence and mayhem. But most importantly, the American “unrated” cut of the film is missing scenes from the 1954 Robert Aldrich western, Vera Cruz, which starred Burt Lancaster and Gary Cooper. Cruz is a favorite film of Dolorosa’s and the ending of Dance with the Devil (at least in the Spanish version) contains a scene wherein the faces of Lancaster and Cooper morph over Dolorosa’s and another character’s during the climatic shoot-out. Presumably the scene was altered because of copyright issues. Regardless, the “unrated” American version is still worth checking out.

Dance with the Devil is available on DVD from A-Pix Entertainment.

2004-05-13T15:23:00.000-07:00

Shameless

Lynda E. Rucker and I have collaborated on a review for Video Watchdog magazine, issue #107. It should be in stores now. The piece is a review of the dearly lamented science-fiction television show, Firefly, which came out on DVD late last year after being unceremoniously cancelled by those bastards at FOX. I'm pretty damn proud of it, not only because I think the review turned out well, but because it was the first time Lynda and I have written something together. Be warned . . . it will not be the last!

2004-05-12T01:41:00.000-07:00

Surging Through the Corridors of the Crazed Mind: Dementia (1953) Daughter of Horror (1957)

For years this obscure nightmarish gem was known to psychotronic fans as Daughter of Horror. Never “officially” released onto video, the film was nevertheless easy to track down from numerous gray market outlets, and for those lucky enough to have wallowed in its beat-inspired existentialist noir/horror rhythms, the experience was unforgettable. Directed by John J. Parker, the film is a black and white psychosexual horrorshow dealing with a young woman, known only as “the Gamin” (Adrianne Barrett), as she ventures through the dark city streets encountering various unsavory characters while she experiences a torrent of hallucinatory visions involving murder and Ed McMahon! Since Daughter of Horror was filmed with no dialogue and virtually no sound except for George Antheil’s musical score, the future-Tonight Show sidekick, who was then a radio announcer, supplied the film with an over-the-top “evil” narration. With ingredients like that you’d think the film was destined for greatness! Well, in a perfect world it would have been.

Luckily, Kino on Video (those crusaders for all that is black and white and silent) has lovingly resurrected this little masterpiece for the digital age. And not only that, they’ve also released the original cut of the film, Dementia, which contains scenes cut from the later release and doesn’t contain the campy Ed McMahon narration. The original cut takes a while to get used to, only because McMahon’s loopy psychobabble was so damn memorable, but it’s without a doubt the preferred version. The print is also amazing to behold and really shows-off William Thompson’s glorious cinematography.

Dementia/Daughter of Horror is available on DVD from Kino on Video.

2004-04-26T01:50:00.000-07:00

Moonage Daydream: The Virgin Suicides (2000)

Five sisters -- the entrancing Lisbon daughters -- commit suicide and forever haunt the imaginations of the young men fortunate enough to have encountered them during their all too brief lives. Much like her brother Roman’s first feature, CQ (2001), Sofia Coppola’s directorial debut was self-assured and gave one much hope as to what she would accomplish in the future. Of course, her second film, Lost in Translation (2003), not only lived up to the promise, it secured her place as one of the most intelligent and gifted American directors working today. Based on Jeffrey Eugenide’s novel of the same name, The Virgin Suicides -- the film -- could have easily deteriorated into maudlin morbidity or juvenile preciousness if a lesser talent had directed it. But as it turned out, Coppola’s skillful adaptation is a dreamy, melancholic fable that brilliantly balances the story’s enigmatic power with dollops of black humor and a gentle poignancy that is hard to shake off. Set in Michigan during the mid-1970s, the film’s sense of period detail and use of rock songs from the era are first rate. The original soundtrack by French electronic-pop duo Air is equally superb, and adds a fabulous drifting flow to this cinematic loss of innocence. The ensemble cast is excellent as well.

The Virgin Suicides is available on DVD from Paramount Home Video.

2004-04-22T16:31:00.000-07:00

UPDATE COMING SOON!

Honest. And that's a threat.

2004-04-02T18:18:00.000-08:00

Into the Zone

This link is to a website by a Ukranian woman who regularly rides her motorcycle through the dead zone surrounding the Chernobyl nuclear power site and has beautifully documented what she has witnessed there. Chilling and unforgettable stuff to say the least. Be afraid. Be very afraid. Check it out:

http://www.angelfire.com/extreme4/kiddofspeed/

2004-03-08T00:33:00.000-08:00

What’s Been Playin’ on the CD Player

I’ve been listening to a lot of music lately. Much too much to write about in depth, so I’ll just list a few of the sounds that have kept me up late at night.

Soundtracks:

Barry 7’s Connectors 2 -- A collection of rare Italian lounge music from various Euro films.

Kill Bill Vol. 1 -- One of the best soundtracks from 2003. Too bad there are still tracks from the film that aren’t even on it. It’s still worth picking up, though.

Spaghetti Westerns Volume Two -- A fantastic two disc collection of music from some of the most enjoyable Westerns this side of … eh … well, from Italy.

Classical:

J. S. Bach ~ The Art of the Fugue -- A new release from the highly regarded Emerson String Quartet.

Bartok ~ The 6 String Quartets -- Absolutely splendid two disc set from the Takacs Quartet.

Ute Lemper ~ Berlin Cabaret Songs -- Beautiful, sexy chanteuse Ute Lemper interprets a fabulous selection of music suppressed by The Third Reich. Life's a swindle, so take what you can.

Ute Lemper ~ Illusions -- More sad and beautiful songs from this incredible performer. Dreams turning into dust have never sounded more exquisite.

Jazz:

John Coltrane ~ Blue Train

John Coltrane ~ Giant Steps

Miles Davis ~ In a Silent Way

Miles Davis ~ Miles Ahead

Everything Else:

Drive-By Truckers ~ Southern Rock Opera -- Absolutely the best damn thing I’ve listened to in a while. Trust me on this, if your taste in RAWK tends to head 180 degrees South, then check this incredible band out.

Eminem ~ White Man’s World

High On Fire ~ Surrounded By Thieves -- Monstrous thunder doom/stoner metal from three gents who currently reside within the bowels of the earth. Makes Motorhead sound like little girls.

Lynyrd Skynyrd ~ (pronounced’leh-nerd’skin-nerd) -- You think you know what this band’s about? You have no idea. Listen and learn. Great songwriting, deceptively simple, and oh so swampy. I had to pick this up, along with their second album, after listening to The Drive-By Truckers, who pay homage to Skynyrd on their above mentioned CD.

Lynyrd Skynyrd ~ Second Helping -- Do not pass this band off as just a bunch of longhaired redneck howlers. Proudly Southern, yes. But also soulful, skillful, and passionate. There’s a lot more going on beneath the surface than you think. Even better than their first release.

My Bloody Valentine ~ Loveless -- One of my all-time favorite albums.

Oblivians ~ Sympathy Sessions -- Drunken, bluesy, fucked-up garage rawk all about sex, sex, and more sex. Grab your kitten and burn baby burn.

The Polyphonic Spree ~ The Beginning Stages of … -- Been a while since you’ve attended church? Drop this into the CD player and rejoice! Psychedelic pop/gospel/dream emanations from the Soul above!

Tom Waits ~ Blood Money -- What more do you need to know? It’s Tom Waits! And damn if he doesn’t seem to be conjuring up some dire warnings from below on this one. Wake up! The End is nigh!

Lucinda Williams ~ World Without Tears -- Oh, Lucinda. Give me a call.

2004-02-26T01:12:00.000-08:00

Shock and Awe, or how Christianity Can Sometimes Really Hurt You

I’m sort of amused and confused by some of the outrage hurled at Mel Gibson’s new Mad Max film -- Oops! I mean his new Mondo-Biblical horror film about the last twelve hours of Jesus’ life. Don’t worry, I won’t spoil the end for you. But seriously, why are so many people shocked about the film’s violence? Have you no knowledge of the darker undercurrents of the religion? For those of you who are unaware of many a Christian’s sado-masochistic death-trip tendencies or who believe that the religion is bloodless and lacks bite, I urge you to seek out the book Tortures & Torments of the Christian Martyrs from Feral House. Originally published in 1989, the book is long out of print, but a newly revised edition should be out soon. The book is partly a facsimile of an edition published in 1904 with engravings from the 1591 edition. Vividly depicting the excruciating tortures that the passive-aggressive Holy Martyrs so deliciously craved, this is a brutal reminder that not all believers want their salvation tasting like vanilla. The book also contains a fascinating appendix entitled On the Physical Death of Jesus, written by a pathologist from the Mayo Clinic. Whether your interest is morbid fascination, scholarly, or because you need some deviant material for your next holy masturbation session, check it out. Your soul may depend on it.

2004-02-24T00:18:00.000-08:00

Lazy and Tired of Working for The Man

Well, the 27th Portland International Film Festival is in full swing and I've managed to see . . . one film. Yep. One film. I mean, don't get me wrong. If I only had to see one film from the entire festival I'm glad that it was Canadian filmmaker Guy Maddin's entry, The Saddest Music in the World (2003). It was brilliant and probably his most accessible film to date, although my favorite is still Careful (1992). But one film? Yep. I gotta manage my time better or something.

2004-02-16T18:34:00.000-08:00

It Needs a Longer End Credit Sequence: The Wild Bunch (1969)

I wasn’t trying to make an epic. I was trying to tell a simple story about bad men in changing times. The Wild Bunch is simply what happens when killers go to Mexico. The strange thing is that you feel a great sense of loss when these killers reach the end of the line.
-- Sam Peckinpah

Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch is playing in town at Cinema 21, so Lynda and I shuffled down the street to experience it in the theater. Although we’ve both seen it on the big screen before, it’s a hard film to pass up. Cinema 21 is showing the 144-minute version, which reinstates some flashback sequences and the scene when Villa’s rebels attack Mapache (Emilio Fernandez), and his troops. If you’ve never seen this film, I urge you to check it out, even if you don’t like Westerns. Hell, especially if you don’t like Westerns. From its simple yet dynamic narrative to its revolutionary cinematic syntax (especially for the genre) to the twilight moral universe of killers and victims that Pike (William Holden) and The Bunch exist in and that we, the audience, are forced to submit to –- this is cinema of the highest order. Many have copied and ripped it off (e.g. Brian De Palma, Walter Hill, Paul Schrader, Oliver Stone, Robert Rodriguez, and John Woo, to name only a few culprits), but none of them have ever equaled the monstrous force or moral complexity that comprises Peckinpah’s film. Basically, The Wild Bunch are the only men in a town of boys. Christopher McQaurrie’s 2000 neo-noir, The Way of the Gun, paid splendid homage to The Wild Bunch and is probably the best of the newer crop of films inspired by Peckinpah’s legacy, although it nevertheless lacks the seriousness of Peckinpah’s film. In the end, it’s still a cartoon. A fiendishly good one, but a cartoon nonetheless. But off the top of my head, Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven (1992) is arguably the only other Western that comes close to matching the emotional and moral weight of The Wild Bunch.

It’s 1912 and World War One is looming on the horizon. The American Old West is dying out and with it, the violent men who helped shape, tame, and define it. Pike Bishop, Dutch Engstrom (Ernest Borgnine), Lyle Gorch (Warren Oates), his brother Tector (Ben Johnson), and Angel (Jaime Sanchez) are looking for one more big score after their attempt to rob a bank in the town of Starbuck went horribly wrong when Deke Thornton (Robert Ryan) and his crew of bloodthirsty bounty hunters ambushed them. Barely making it out alive of the melee, Pike and his gang of killers regroup and end up working for a corrupt Mexican general, Mapache, to steal a shipment of U.S. military guns and ammo, while Thornton and his posse of cut-throats are riding hard on their trail.

Even thirty-five years after it was first released, the violence in The Wild Bunch is still ferocious and shocking. Between this and Arthur Penn’s ode to lawlessness and pop-art criminality, Bonnie and Clyde (1967), never had a film so ruthlessly propelled the audience into the topsy-turvy moral universe of its characters; never had a film so thoroughly abandoned its audience and not given them a character to root for and bad guys to hiss at. There are no Good Guys and Bad Guys in this film -- only killers and prey. Remarkably, Peckinpah manages to make us feel and mourn for The Bunch when they go down at the end in a hail of apocalyptic rage and bullets, but it comes attached with plenty of moral dilemmas and a bitter taste in our mouths. Like the character The Judge said in Cormac McCarthy’s masterpiece, Blood Meridian, there are “Bears that dance, bears that don’t.”

When the film ended and the house lights went up, Lynda leaned over to me and whispered, “The film really needs a longer end credit sequence.” I looked into her weary eyes, scanned the theater around me to see others who were still seated looking equally worn out and wounded by what they’d just witnessed, and nodded my head. Bears that dance and bears that don’t. Indeed.

2004-02-10T00:39:00.000-08:00

The Candidate's Bookshelf!

This comes from the Book Sense web site. Amusing and very, very interesting:

http://www.booksense.com/candidatebooks/index.jsp

2004-02-10T00:25:00.000-08:00

RED RAIN by Michael Crow

Half-Vietnamese, half-black, all cranked up -- Baltimore cop Luther Ewing is a guy who enjoys existing in the underbelly of society. He breathes in corruption and feeds off of violence and mayhem. He likes the wet work. He craves it like a shark needs the sea. For Luther, the troubled waters that most of us will do anything to avoid, have become the source of his being. He drinks greedily from the killing tide and swims freely within the dark waters. And he grows stronger while submerged there. But does he become less human the longer he swims? Luther is a Gulf War vet. He also utilized his killing trade as a mercenary in Bosnia, which is where he met the Russian merc Vassily. Now Luther's old friend is in Baltimore stirring up trouble with the Russian mob. Bosnia was one thing, but Baltimore is Luther's turf. Guess Luther and Vassily are just going to have to start a war. Pray they don't take the whole city down with 'em.

Red Rain is a punch to the face. It makes Mickey Spillane and James Ellroy subtle as haiku. Its feverish prose, vivid characters, over-the-top action sequences that border on the side of parody but always manage to stay engaging, and expertly measured hallucinatory pulp sensation, easily make the novel a tight read. Red Rain, and its sequel The Bite, are written under the pseudonym Michael Crow. The only thing known about the real author's identity is that he is a "prizewinning, critically acclaimed literary novelist whose works have been translated and published in nine languages." A reporter from the Baltimore City Paper believes that it's William Vollman. Mr. Crow has neither confirmed nor denied the accusation. I'll get to The Bite soon and give you the lowdown. Bottoms up!

2004-02-09T18:20:00.000-08:00

Mind the Doors: Raw Meat aka Death Line (1972)

Although this British made film is well regarded in its home country -- considered to be one of the finest modern English horror films ever made -- this intelligent and moody shocker has long been relegated to cult obscurity in the U.S. and sadly forgotten outside of those genre aficionados who have valiantly tried to keep the film’s dark flame burning over the years. Written and directed by American Gary Sherman, who would later direct the cult fave Dead & Buried (1981), Raw Meat ostensibly focuses on a series of bizarre disappearances in the London Underground and the subsequent ongoing police investigation led by two of Scotland Yard’s finest, Donald Pleasence and Norman Rossington. Genre-vet Pleasance and Rossington have a great repartee together and their scenes add a much needed levity to an otherwise claustrophobic and unsettling film. But just when you think you know where the film is headed, Sherman introduces us to the film’s true main character and real tragic heart of the picture. Long forgotten underneath the streets of London, buried beneath years of rubble and debris that are his sole links to the outside world’s dreams of “advancement” and “progress,” lurks the inbred cannibalistic creature (played by Hugh Armstrong) causing all of the mayhem above. Mindlessly moaning “Mind the doors!” as he shuffles through the deserted tunnels, the creature, along with a dying pregnant female, is the last descendent of a group of tunnel workers buried alive during construction of a new underground station in the late-19th century. Violent, totally crazed, and barely recognizable as a human being, Armstrong nevertheless manages to make us feel empathy for this great, shambling tragic beast. Not since Boris Karloff breathed life into the role of Frankenstein’s Monster has a horror film displayed such a complex yet terrifying “villain.”

The film is available on DVD from MGM Home Entertainment.

2004-02-09T14:34:00.000-08:00

Talk is Cheap: The Great Silence (1968)

This is simply one of the greatest Spaghetti Westerns ever made. It’s also one of the darkest films ever, regardless of genre. But don’t let that scare you off if you’re skittish about such things since it’s also frequently haunting (thanks to composer Ennio Morricone’s unforgettable score), beautiful, lyrical, humorous, crazy, and most important of all, thoroughly captivating. It stars the one-and-only Klaus Kinski, in one of his finest roles, as a droll yet blood-crazed bounty hunter named Loco, and the great French actor Jean-Louis Trintignant as the aptly named, mysterious gunslinger Silence. The wonderful American character actor Frank Wolff (Once Upon a Time in the West among many others) co-stars as the sheriff and Vonetta McGee (Repo Man) brings a tragic humanity to the film as the widow who hires Silence to avenge the death of her husband. Director Sergio Corbucci, although not always the best craftsman, manages to bring an unbridled energy and passion to the film that occasionally rivals the power of the great Sergio Leone’s Westerns from the same period. Corbucci, who also directed the very influential Django (1966) starring Euro-superstar Franco Nero, Navajo Joe (1966) with Burt Reynolds (!), and the excellent Companeros (1970), was more or less a political filmmaker when it came to making Westerns and actually called his take on the genre “Zapata-Spaghetti.” Basically, when it comes down to his Westerns, the good guys are the tough Lefties and the bad guys the fascist Right. Simple and direct though they may be, Corbucci’s films are nevertheless emotional powder kegs and they still manage a fair amount of complexity when it comes around to character. But if you’re looking for ambiguity, look elsewhere. There’s no time for that jazz when the bullets are flying.

The Great Silence is available on DVD from Fantoma. The disc contains the loony alternate “Happy Ending” that Corbucci filmed for the North African and Asian audiences that demanded that their Westerns end on an up note. Even after watching it you’ll still not believe it. Director and longtime Spaghetti Western fan Alex Cox (Repo Man, Sid & Nancy, Straight to Hell) supplies a brief yet interesting video interview wherein he talks about the film’s brooding tone and puts Corbucci’s work within an historical context. He also pens the liner notes. Although I have to disagree with Cox’s assessment that Silence is the greatest Spaghetti Western ever made (that honor still has to go to Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West), it’s right up there. But please, don’t watch this if you’re feeling unstable or depressed. I’ve got enough of a guilty conscience as it is.

2004-01-25T16:46:00.000-08:00

A JUDGEMENT IN STONE by Ruth Rendell

British crime novelist Ruth Rendell is probably best known for her long-running police procedural series starring Chief Inspector Reginald Wexford. But Rendell also writes under the nom de plume Barbara Vine, creating non-series books that are rich in psychological portraits of unstable people who are unwilling or unable to combat the ever-encroaching criminal chaos entering their lives. Hailed by both critics and fans as one of her best novels, A Judgement in Stone, although written under the Rendell name, arguably foreshadows what she would accomplish writing as Vine more than what she would do in the Inspector Wexford series.

Ostensibly about the killing of the Coverdale family by their surly maid because she couldn’t read or write, Rendell brilliantly examines the mindset of someone who would so willingly commit such a senseless crime. There is no mystery in A Judgement in Stone. The first sentence matter-of-factly informs us that the Coverdale clan has been murdered by their maid, Eunice Parchman. But there are numerous puzzling questions concerning Parchman’s descent into violence and how her illiteracy shaped her simmering rage.

Rendell’s straightforward yet elegant prose unflinchingly casts a strange spell over the proceedings, offering the reader no escape from the horrifying yet inevitable conclusion. Although Parchman is thoroughly unlikable, pathetic, and in many respects the personification of a tangible Evil, Rendell nevertheless manages to make us feel empathy toward her. Much of the novel painfully deals with Parchman’s inability to interact with people due to her illiteracy and how the fear of her disability being discovered overruled everything in her life. But we also grow increasingly frustrated with Parchman when help is offered to her and she refuses to accept it because ultimately she doesn’t care. She’s too far-gone, too content with the deadening comfort that is her dull, uneventful life.

For those of you who believe that British crime fiction is always good humored and cozily sordid, read this savage misanthropic masterpiece and feel the cold dread sink in. You’ll be scrambling for a Miss Marple novel in no time flat.

2003-12-23T18:54:00.000-08:00

Damn, It Feels Good to Be a Gangster

My DVD review of the 1964 Japanese yakuza film, Pale Flower, is now live on the Images web site. Check it out:

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2003/reviews/paleflower/

2003-12-16T23:44:00.000-08:00

Zatoichi Lives!

Well, at least on DVD he does. My review of episodes six, seven, and eight from the original Zatoichi saga is also up at Images. Check it out:

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2003/reviews/zatoichi2/

2003-12-16T23:23:00.000-08:00

UPDATE COMING!

Between working at the bookstore wrangling customers in to shop, shop, shop because it's Christmas, you know, and seeing Kill Bill over and over and over and over again to heal myself, I've been pretty busy. But I should have some new reviews up over the next couple of days, including pieces on Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs, Sergio Corbucci's classic Spaghetti Western The Great Silence, the cult British horror film Raw Meat (aka Death Line), Ruth Rendell's 1977 crime novel A Judgement in Stone, and Michael Crow's scorching debut novel Red Rain, as well as more Top Thirteen Horror lists. I also hope to have some music reviews up soon. So stay safe, stay sane, and stay home! It's murder out there.

Also, I have a new review up over at the Images web site on the new Tinto Brass DVD box set. Check it out at:

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2003/reviews/tintobrass/

2003-12-03T19:41:00.000-08:00

Frodo Lives!

I’m not ashamed. I'm a total Lord of the Rings geek. Director Peter Jackson has brought to the screen the kind of epic filmmaking I didn't think was still possible in this day and age of horribly lame Star Wars and Matrix epic-simulacra. The most obvious difference, I think, between Jackson and the creators behind the latter films is that Jackson actually still cares about cinema. George Lucas has long ago lost the ability to tell a story with compelling characters, and the Wachowski Brothers are . . . hell, I don’t have a clue as to what happened to them. But Peter Jackson still understands the power of genuine storytelling and the alchemical sorcery of celluloid. Great acting + great imagery + great storytelling = the waking dream.

Anyway, I’m not telling you guys anything new. It’s not like Jackson’s skills at crafting story, visual splendor, and heaps of well-earned emotion is something we’ve just found out about. But man, I’ve got to tell you, Jackson tops even himself with the third and last installment in The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

This morning I had the opportunity to see The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King at a special trade screening. Don't worry, I'm not going to spoil anything concerning the plot or what fates befall our beloved characters. Just trust me on this -- it's a magnificent finale. The film more than lives up to its burden of tying up loose ends, delivering astonishing battle scenes, and ultimately resolving our heroes’ struggle to defeat the evil of Sauron. All of the principal actors have great moments (except for Christopher Lee and Brad Dourif whose scenes were both left on the cutting room floor), and the film’s last half-hour or so will absolutely sap you emotionally. If it doesn’t, well . . . you have no heart. I can’t wait to see it again. Easily the best three and half-hours you’ll spend in the theater this year. And just wait until the extended edition DVD hits the stores next year! Woo Hoo!!!

Okay. I’m in control. But I’m still not ashamed.