Your Fanboy Will Never Commit To You. EVER.

Okay, let's just say that the average fanboy has a girlfriend...

BWAAHHAHAHAHAAAA!!!

(ahem...)

I'm sorry.  I'll try again here; let's assume the average fanboy has...you know...a girlfriend.

Okay, if your neurons haven't imploded from that possibility, let us further suppose that fanboy's girlfriend (wow, that's hard to write) is ready for fanboy to present her with a ring and rent a tux, the whole deal.

There are SO many reasons that this is a possibility doomed from the beginning - save for the thinking that fanboy was able to find a girl who shared in his deep, unfathomable love for whatever it is that he has a fanboy fixation on.  Steve Carell and 40 Year-Old Virgin aside, it usually doesn't work.

And as a public service, here are just a few (a few, mind you) reasons that your fanboy will never commit to you. Ever.

-----

Those Leia slavegirls at last ComicCon were so coming onto him.

It would mean clearing off space in his bedroom and finding a new home for his Starlogs.

She looks at his Jason Voorhees mask with so much seething jealousy.

The other guys in the chat forum say he doesn't need to.

When he was at that big MMORPG thing in Detroit last year, she purposely put a huge 3/8' nick in his Daniel Radcliffe-autographed Nimbus 2000.

Even though she expects him to go antiquing with her every other Saturday, she refuses to go with him on one measly cross-country trip to meet William Shatner.

SOMEONE purposely arranged his "Mystery Science Theater 3000" tapes alphabetically instead of by season...and it wasn't him!

You can either be Team Edward or Team Jacob...not both.

Thunderbirds and Thundercats are not from the same universe...they can't possibly be  She may be messing on that one....

If she won't agree to a wedding cake with a miniature Buck Rogers and Wilma Deering on top, then she's not serious about this relationship.

He's argued with her several times a week that it's "Mach Go Go Go!", not "Go Speed Racer Go!", and she just refused to accept that he's right.

She wouldn't even sit through half of The Star Wars Holiday Special.

It's funny how his display shelf for all his Autobots are "somehow" being overrun with Hummels.

A honeymoon in Bronson Canyon would too be romantic!

She calls it her "New Vulcan Salute", he calls it "Being Flipped Off".

It's amazing how ticked off her parents got when he suggested "The Imperial Death March" for the processional.

Even after getting it for her last Christmas, she refuses to wear that R2D2 swimsuit to the pool.

She's probably going to want sex at some point and she doesn't appreciate that future zombie fighters have to remain pure.

He has to work when the muse is upon him, and this makes blogging at 3 in the morning perfectly acceptable.

-----

Whoa.  Better stop there; that last one hit a tad too close to home.

So for all of those girls out there hoping to snag that fanboy beau of yours...forget it.  Unless you look like one of these ladies...

...forget it.

Dope out.

- TGWD

The Worst Posters Ever!!! Part 12

Here I am, sitting in utter disbelief that I am even writing this particular post, because there is no conceivable way that I should be writing this post to begin with.

How many really awful movie posters can there be in the world?  Isn't there some sort of law against this?  I mean, don't people know that if your poster is bad then the reception to their movie will be even worse?  Do they think about this?  Does anyone?  ISN'T ANYONE OUT THERE THINKING ABOUT ANY OF THIS AT ALL???

I'm sorry...I'm sorry.  I apologize.  I shouldn't have lost my composure like that.  I have to realize that there are just so many really lousy posters for movies that it's going to take a while to catalog them all.  This is a huge endeavor; it's already lasted longer than writing about how lousy 1985 was for movies...and I thought that one would never end as it was.

Okay, let's get to the business at hand and then take our meds.

CRANK: HIGH VOLTAGE

So this is how you want to promote your big, high-octane thrill ride of an action film, huh?  Jason Statham pointing a gun against a yellow background.  And does it look to anyone else that they just pasted Jas' head on top of a PED XING figure?  You know, guys, it's junk like this that ruined Charles Bronson's career: no, I don't mean the movies, I mean these posters.

DINNER FOR SCHMUCKS

Congratulations; your poster just got photo-bombed by Steve Carell after he came back from having his teeth whitened.  And Paul Rudd's none too happy about it.  I guess I can't complain about PhotoShopping in this one, but do I really want to see these guys' skin pores up close and personal?  If I wanted dermatology reports of the stars, I have the Internet for that.  And I also don't need Steve Carell trying to steal my soul with his eyes...or eye, in this case.  And that's what he's doing.  Right like that; I...GAH!  Stop that, Carell!!

SEX AND THE CITY 2

Yeah yeah yeah; I know I already did a SATC2 poster before this, I know that - but now Sarah Jessica Parker had to drag her little friends in on this one!  And I mean Cattrall, Davis and Nixon, not her...oh, you know what I meant.  The one on the left has this pained expression like her latte's getting cold, Parker's twirling around her taffeta like a prom queen on Red Bull, Cattrall looks as if she's trying out for the next Jackie O biopic from how wide she's able to get her mouth, and Nixon's just slooooowly inching off to one side, sneaking out to let everyone else act like idiots.  And by the way, there's no city in this poster, and no one's having sex (thank GOD); it's just a desert and material chicks.  Why was this show so popular again?  Anyone?

SOUL MAN

First of all, any movie that has the word "COMEDY" in its poster is just straining for any of the straws it can grab so as to stay afloat.  Otherwise we have C. Thomas Howell off to one side, being his typical C. Thomas Howell self...and that's it.  Well, nothing else says "COMEDY" like that, does it? And for your laff-fest, I'd kinda downplay the fact that it's being directed by the guy who directed Friday The 13th Part 2...unless Jason Voorhees is in it.  Now THAT would make for a "COMEDY".

FURRY VENGEANCE

Join me in welcoming Brenda Fraser back from his last triumphant engagement at TWPE!!!, and I think this one is even worse/ Any live-action movie that evokes the same feel as a Hanna-Barbera cartoon with animals beating up humans is one thing.  But Brendan looks to be stuck in CGI hell with creatures more befitting rejected Over The Hedge characters.  I think if Fraser had his clothes shredded, his hair on fire, a bear trap on one leg and an army of fire ants crawling over his face, it would still look right at home in this paean to overkill.  I get it: the animals are going to go all National Wildlife Foundation on his butt.  Geez, even the poster for George Of The Jungle was more subtle than this.

I have something special coming up for the next installment.  Oh, they'll still be The Worst Posters Ever!!!...but with a little added kick.  Something just for you, you sick twisted sick sicko.  Salivating yet?  Good.

Dope out.

- TGWD

Happy Jason Voorhees' Birthday!

Yeah, yeah - I know it's Friday the 13th and it's only used as the date of the birthday of a fictional character (he's fictional?...), and even though I've given him a hard time for four movies AND four reviews, Jason Voorhees is the man we associate with the day that, before 1980, we USED to associate with bad luck, black cats, broken mirrors and the like.

NOW we associate it with masked killers, dead teenagers, machetes and chee-chee-chee-haa-haa-haa.

So I guess it's only fair to now give props to the only mad immortal killer that Alice Cooper would think enough of to sing about.

Happy Birthday, indeed, to the man for whom this day will forever be associated.  The Man Behind The Mask: Jason.

Oh, and since I mentioned Alice Cooper and Jason Voorhees in the same posting, here:


Alice Cooper - He's Back (The Man Behind The Mask) by scootaway

Dracula 3000 (2004)

Twenty minutes into watching this thing, I was kind of hoping for Sir Christopher Lee to make a cameo.

Halfway through, I was would have settled for a glimpse of Paul Naschy.

When it was all over, I would have much rather seen Count Chocula.

I'm not one who throws this title out to just any movie - and believe me, I've seen my fair share of movies. I can safely say, however, that Dracula 3000 is THE WORST vampire movie I have ever seen in my life.

This is worse than Al Adamson's take in 1970's Dracula Vs. Frankenstein, with the wonderfully-named and woefully-untalented Zandor Vorkoff as the Prince of Darkness. This is worse than David Niven camping it up as a bloodsucker in 1974's Old Dracula. Even Andy Warhol's Dracula was a step-up compared to this; Udo Kier or no Udo Kier.

You want to guarantee that your movie is going to be the worst ever? Just take a tried and true fictional character (Dracula, Frankenstein, Pinocchio, Jason Voorhees, Emmanuelle, Eddie Murphy) and then add the following sentence onto the end of the plot description:

"...And did I mention this all happens in outer space?"

Dracula 3000 not only takes place in outer space, but an outer space a whole millennium removed from where we are now. So great: outer space of the future! It works so well for Japanese movies and TV shows, why not apply it to everyone else's films?

Before you go thinking that we (meaning the U.S.) are responsible yet again for the stupidest idea in a film since plopping Pauly Shore in the lead of a Doodles Weaver biopic, I have yet another guarantee that this will fall flatter than a souffle under a steamroller. This beauty comes to us from the sunny shores of Sun City itself: South Africa.

Yes, President de Klerk - this is a little project which is not only directed by your fellow countryman Darrell Roodt but is also written by Roodt and professional boom mic operator/sound mixer Ivan Milborrow. Yes, these are the men to blame for what would most certainly rank right up there with Space Mutiny as the most ridiculous South African sci-fi film ever. I think they just added Dracula in the cast as insurance they would not have two Krugerrands to rub together after all was said and done.

I'm gonna hyperventilate if I don't calm down soon and give you the plot, so I hope you're sitting down for this one: It's the year 3000 (fitting, since the year's in the title and all), and deep space salvage ship Mother III (Alien reference, huh? Cute.) locates the long-derelict starship Demeter.

Demeter? ...why does that sound so familiar? Oh well.

Anyway, they locate the Demeter ship in the Carpathian System.

Uhh...Carpathian? Okay....

Captain Abraham Van Helsing (Casper Van Dien) and his....

Van Helsing? Alright, alright; I see what they're going for here. I'll play along.

Captain Van Helsing's crew, composed of blonde assistant Aurora Ash (Erika Eleniak); wheelchair-bound navigator Arthur "The Professor" Holmwood (Grant Swanby), a self-proclaimed genius; large hulking crew member Humvee (Tiny Lister); intern Mina Murry (Alexandra Kamp-Groeneveld); and the drug addicted 187 (Coolio), decide to claim possession of Demeter and its cargo.

While exploring the spacecraft, they see a fifty year-old recording of Captain Varna (Udo Kier)...

Wait. Varna? Oh yeah, right.

Anyway, Varna is shown sweating and explaining that he locked himself in his cabin for protection from his crew, all of whom began acting unusually after receiving a cargo of coffins from the Transylvania space station.

Transyl.... Ohh, never mind.

When 187 decides to search in the coffins for hidden drugs, he cuts his hand on a splinter of the wood and his blood awakens Count Orlock (Langley Kirkwood), the Dracula of the title. When Aurora discloses who Orlock/Dracula is, the survivors try to find a way to destroy the vampire.

The space vampire. In the future.

There are so many reasons that Dracula 3000 is stupid that I'm only going to go into a few of the reasons, or else I'll be requiring a nice strong sedative. With a chaser.

One point is when they discover the skeleton of Captain Varna, it looks less like a skeleton in a uniform than it does a dressed mannequin with a Day of the Dead papier mâché skull slapped on top of it. Great effect, special effects coordinator Cordell McQueen and company; just paint black "X"s over the eyes while you're at it.

Then when they come across the fake skeleton, they see he's holding a crucifix and Lister's character asks what the deal is with the "plus sign". Ooh, nice slam against Christianity, guys. Like you need to alienate yet another group from your movie.

Still another point comes along when someone turns into a vampire here (and most of the cast will either be vampires or snacks), they get the same set of plastic fangs and red contact lenses. There's never like a whole group of vampires; it's just one blood-sucker at a time - presumably because they only had one set of contacts and fangs. It's all in how you wear them, I guess, whether it makes you look ridiculous. Sir Christopher Lee pulled it off effortlessly.

Coolio, though?

Let's just get right to the acting, shall we? Can we agree that Van Dien had his day in Starship Troopers and be done with it? What has he been in since, besides this? Lots of SyFy Channel junk and not much else. Besides which, for a starship captain, his crew seems to pretty much do whatever they want to do anyway, whether he's giving them orders or not. Pretty ineffectual if you can't command the same respect you did as Johnny Rico. Of course, there's no giant bugs to kill here or a Catherine Oxenberg to lean on for support, so there you go.

Eleniak's character isn't only a tough-as-nails member of the crew but also reveals herself to be a robot. Ooh, Terminator reference! Kinda...since she doesn't really do anything Terminator-esque, like lift anyone over her head or smash them into a wall or mutter "I'll be back" - she just speaks softly and carries a big gun, which she actually gets to fire every so often, too. And despite her glaring eyes, clenched teeth and buxom figure, this isn't exactly her most shining hour since "Baywatch". But hey, if David Hasselhoff had StarCrash in his closet, Erika might as well have a similar albatross.

You remember Kamp-Groeneveld, right? Don't you? Come on, of course you do! Remember; she was Dr. Uschi Künstler in 2001: A Space Travesty! Yeah! That one! Is it a coincidence that she is featured in two bad space movies and serves the same purpose in both - to take up space?

(Hee-hee, see what I did there? "Space"? Hee-hee...)

The wheel-chaired Professor guy; all I can say about Swanby's performance in this movie is that, while he at least has the British accent down there's two things that worry me about his character. For one thing, he wears glasses. In the year 3000, wouldn't science have found a way around eyeglasses - I mean, what about contacts or lasik surgery or something? And a wheelchair? What about hover-chairs or robotic add-ons to his own legs or some kind of imaginative set-up like that? Come on, Cordell McQueen; you and your crew are slacking again.

Now, about the casting of Tiny Lister and Coolio. I guess I have to admit that by the sole virtue of their being Tiny Lister and Coolio they have the best and most interesting performances in this thing as, respectively, a big dumb strong guy and a stoner. And while I don't want to open up a can of metaphysical worms here, isn't it interesting that theirs are the two best performances - in a South African movie?

Understand, when I say that their performances are the best, that's like saying of all the junker cars in the scrap heap, theirs are the ones with the least rust. What I mean is that they at least do amusing things in the movie. Lister plays his patented big dumb character as he did in No Holds Barred, Barb Wire and the Friday movies. True, he was also our president in The Fifth Element and played a subtle part therein, but would you want to see a subtle President smack Erika Eleniak's robotic butt? No, you wouldn't.

As far as Coolio goes...he's a rapper. Period. Seems that's the most he brings to a project where he's supposed to smoke dope, act stoned and then, once he's Drac-ulated, act the same...save for eyes and teeth. Of course, he doesn't even submit any rap songs to the soundtrack - guess Roodt and company had to keep the costs low somehow; why make songs for a soundtrack that no one is going to buy to begin with?

Speaking of costs, I have to hand it to Cordell McQueen on one point: at least she bested Space Mutiny in the respect that there were no factory basements and bricks in this particular spaceship. It at least looks as realistic an outer space setting as your average episode of "Buck Rogers in the 25th Century".

Now, as far as the script goes...Roodt and Milborrow have more than enough references to the original Dracula mythos as they can jam into the ship and planet and star system names without making it look too forced...okay, it looks plenty forced. I mean, come on: The Transylvania space station?? Carpathian system?? Captain Van Helsing??

Oh! And when the big reveal of Count Orlock happens finally, what do we get? Something scary like the vampire in "Salem's Lot"? Something gruesome like the soul-stealing Vorvon in that "Buck Rogers" TV episode? A hip-looking embodiment like the teens in The Lost Boys? A classic interpretation like Gary Oldman's in Francis Ford Coppola's take on the classic Dracula storyline?

No. We get a pale white guy with slicked-back hair, a pointy-collared black cape and white turtleneck. In space. In the future.

And you know how long he appears in this 86-minute movie? Two, maybe three, minutes tops. And that's being generous.

Seeing that we have a Prince of Darkness who looks like he should be hosting a celebrity haunted house or the latest episode of "The Price is Bite", it's probably a good thing that we get as little of him as we do.

I swear, though, that in Roodt's defense he did actually direct some pretty darned good movies that actually helped cement relations between South Africa and their oppressed masses. Titles like Sarafina!, Cry The Beloved Country and the 2011 biopic of Winnie Mandela at least helped people forget about such titles as this and the Ice Cube vehicle Dangerous Ground. But it wouldn't take long for people to remember Coolio verbally propositioning Eleniak's character while referring to anacondas and certain parts of her body. It's just one of those things.

And the ending? Everyone dies except Lister, Eleniak and Orlock. Lister and Eleniak slam Orlock's arm in a door and snap it off, leaving him to scream and cry in place as they steer the ship into a pair of nearby suns. Eleniak offers herself (being a re-conditioned "pleasure-bot") to Lister, who cries, thanks God, picks her up over his shoulder and walks away, just as the ship explodes. The end.

Yep. That's it.

Again, Dracula 3000 is the worst vampire movie ever made. I don't care if they played it for laughs or not - it's stupid. I don't care if everyone involved were in this for a quick paycheck, a couple of days' shooting and were out the door before post-production started - it's a lousy effort for all involved. And I certainly don't care if everyone involved forgot for a minute that the whole "In Space" concept did not work for any other franchise - it would be bad even if they had convinced Warwick Davis to don his Leprechaun rigging and make a cameo.

To tell the truth, I don't know if Dracula 3000 even made back its budget when all was said and done. I have my suspicions, though, that someone is owing someone else big time for some unpaid bills of some sort for this thing. When you make something so cheap that it not only begs comparison to Space Mutiny but makes you long for the involvement of "Mystery Science Theater 3000" in the proceedings, what you have is a product that will make every single part of your body ache - from your head to your heels.

I got my copy of this movie for $8 from a previously-viewed sale at Movie Gallery. Because I now feel robbed of at least seven dollars and 99 1/2 cents, I feel that Darrell Roodt owes me some yard work. Anyone got his number?

Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter (1984)

Here's an analogy for you: movies are a lot like dogs - it's so cute when they roll over or walk on their hind legs, until you realize that this is the only trick they know.

You may recall my friend I mentioned in my last three subsequent Friday the 13th reviews, the one who watched the films for their subtext and so forth. I'm not sure if she's seen the fourth film or just the first three; it could be that after watching the earlier ones, she grew tired of watching one formula repeated ad nauseum. In other words the stories she saw remained the same, only the bodies have been changed to protect the insolent.

...see what I did there?...

Whether or not she has seen this Friday (hey, friend; fourth mention!) doesn't really matter. What DID matter to Paramount Pictures is the fact that people did see the first three Friday the 13ths. They knew where Camp Crystal Lake was (more or less), they knew the legend of Jason Voorhees (more or less) and his vendetta against teenagers in general (definitely).

The most important thing was that these audiences knew what to expect. Teens would be introduced. Teens would be killed. Jason would be responsible. Any deviation from this formula would not be tolerated. After all, it had made umpteen million dollars so far, so why mess with (im)perfection?

Like all good things, however, this tale had to reach its end. Its coda. Its coup de grace. And so in 1984, with a heavy heart and grand sendoff, Paramount Pictures, along with producer Frank Mancuso Jr., director Joseph Zito and writers Barney Cohen and Bruce Hidemi Sakow bid a fond, tearful farewell to the most beloved cash cow this side of India by releasing Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter. This would be the finale of the series (Finale. The end. Fade out. Close curtain.) and the be-all to end all for everyone's favorite hockey-masked mad serial killer...Jason Voorhees.

Now, everyone who believes that last sentence please do a handstand on your computer chair.

Interesting....

Director Zito specialized before and since on shocks, scares and blood in most unexpected places (just ask Chuck Norris) and lensed Cohen and Sakow's script so as to take Jason out of the world the same way he came into it: messily.

So leave us to get to the point: the film begins with a montage of scenes set around the campfire story told in Part 2, with scenes from the last three films cut in so as to illustrate. To be honest, this was the only part of the movie I liked - quick, sharp editing coupled with jump scenes and Jason's glowering face popping up every so often. Now, this is the Jason Voorhees for the MTV generation. If the rest of the movie was this fast-paced and concise, this may be Jason's best showing ever.

...come on, you think I'd be reviewing this movie if THAT were the case???

The plot hasn't changed since 1980 - the only difference is we pick up from the very end of Part 3 (only this time, not in 3-D) where Jason's body is loaded up and taken to the city morgue.

Is he dead? Psh. NO....

Playing possum as he always does, Jason escapes his near-death experience, kills Fackler from Police Academy (Bruce Mahler) and a bit-player/candy-striper then is off to his old hunting grounds by The Lake....

(oh, I'm sorry; SPOILER ALERT, THAT PARAGRAPH JUST UP THERE)

Also headed to nowhere are a gaggle of over-sexed, under-intelligent idiots pretending to be teenagers; among their number are George McFly (Crispin Glover), Matthew Star (Peter Barton) and the kid from The Last American Virgin (Lawrence Monoson). They soon arrive and find their house by The Lake is right next to that of Pete from Gremlins (Corey Feldman), who lives with his mom and his sister, Final Girl (Kimberly Beck).

The rest of the gang will grow up to be actors whose biggest accomplishments shall be appearing at horror-cons over at the Friday the 13th table, signing their glossies for $50 a pop. Nice gig.

Look, do you care about any of the actors in this thing? 95% of them are gonna be dead anyway. And those who do survive are going to be upstaged by The (Mad)Man of the Hour. This is HIS movie, don't forget - the rest of the cast is just a thang.

This is not something lost on effects makeup man Tom Savini, who has certainly been associated with more embarrassing things in his time, but anyway.... It has been said that he took a job in this work just so he could kill off the very character his makeup brought to life in 1980. Along the way, though, he also helps inflict makeup damage on everybody else such as stabbings, gougings, slashings, impalings, beheadings, crushings, axings and corkscrewings. Busy guy, Tom was, and for good reason - this was an event movie.

Yes it was: in 1984, alongside films the likes of GhostBusters, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Beverly Hills Cop, Gremlins, 2010, The Karate Kid and The Terminator, The Final Chapter was one of those millions of films released in a year where other producers were betting they would be the top-notch entertainment to attend at your friendly neighborhood multiplex. Mancuso and company were right, though; theirs was the highest-grossing horror movie of the year, out-performing even A Nightmare on Elm Street and Children of the Corn, which had their own legacies, sequels and so forth.

But to what end? When you make a series that has no growth, no development, no characters and no differences in plot from film to film, it reduces your regular movie-goers to lemmings that march merrily off the cliff after paying their $4.50 a head at the counter. They don't care about who is new in the series; they don't care about how good the film looks; they certainly don't care about plot twists. They came to see Jason kill teenagers.

Ironically, teenagers are also the main audience for these films.

So, in essence, the Friday the 13th series is about a mentally-disturbed behemoth who kills teenagers not only because they let him drown as a child but also because one killed his mother. AND later generations of stupid teenagers go to the same place to face the same fate.

Just like generations of teenagers flock to the same theaters to see the same movie made and remade - from 1980 to today.

Does that make sense to anyone else in this room? Anyone?

Is there anything good about Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter? Only if you're into gore effects. Is there any good acting in Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter? Yes, if you count hysterical screaming. Are there any memorable scenes in Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter? Only the beginning montage and maybe Crispin's later dance scene at The Lake house.

As you may have already guessed, Friday the 13th did NOT stop here. In spite of this being called The Final Chapter, who in their right mind would stop things now, just when they were really taking off, money-wise? Not Paramount, not Mancuso and certainly not any other suit who had anything to do with this franchise. They went on to make six more movies in the series, a TV show that lasted for three seasons and a movie reboot that played more like a "Greatest Hits" video.

This, however, was about as huge as Friday the 13th got. Never again would the series enjoy as huge a cast of up-and-comers as here. Never again would it have a makeup effects man as enthusiastic about his craft as Savini. Never again would it be trusted after being caught in so blatant a lie as this.

Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter was not a stopping point, it wasn't even a rest stop. It was a bump in the road for a series that made blood, guts, disposable teenagers, machetes and hockey masks de rigueur for anyone who ever wanted to make their own horror flick. And no need for any originality; again, why mess with (im)perfection?

On a final note, Kimberly Beck (the Final Girl of the piece) was once quoted as saying that Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter wasn't a B-movie, it was a C-movie.

I think she was grading on a curve.

My Bloody Valentine (1981)

My BLINE!

Sorry, just thought I'd start my review with an obscure in-joke.

Anyway, this is yet another mad slasher movie set during yet another holiday where yet another masked killer is killing yet another gaggle of stupid teens yet again.

What's the difference this time, you may ask?

Same crap, different holiday.

Lessee: Halloween came out in 1978, meaning that the rest of Hollywood had to scramble fast to climb onto the blood-soaked bandwagon and rake in the bucks to cash in on something before its time went by. And for the years to follow Halloween, they sure did that.

Figures, though; they did the same thing with musicals, with documentaries, with 3D movies and with Burt Reynolds movies. And all of those things came and went pretty quickly (apologies to Burt, but it's true), but like all things, they come back around every so often for a renaissance for a few months or so. Except maybe for one of them; hang in there, Burt....

Mad Slasher movies, though, have always been and always will be around because they can be made cheaply, cast inexpensively and rushed through and turn a profit. Most of them can also be marketed almost entirely by word-of-mouth. And when it comes to premise, a lot of them can be summarized by five words:

Mad killer strikes during holiday.

And so it came to be we had Friday the 13th, Mother's Day, Silent Night Deadly Night, New Year's Evil, April Fool's Day, Happy Birthday to Me, The Hand (oops...I was thinking of Palm Sunday there...nevermind) and so on, some of which had sequels, others which were so slipshod and under-developed that they were lucky to get the one shot they got.

So it only makes sense that almost every holiday would get its own representation in the horror genre. Bringing us logically to Valentine's Day.

Now hold on: Valentine's Day was a holiday that came about in 500 AD when then-Pope Gelasius I established it in honor of the early Christian martyrs, many of whom were named Valentine. And then we have Geoffrey Chaucer in the Middle Ages to thank for the day being associated with romantic love. How, then, did we go from such a high-minded celebration of idealized love to a murderous masked killer on a rampage?

The same way we went from the celebration of the birth of Jesus to an axe-wielding Santa Claus: there's money to be made in it.

Now, as if this kind of thing needed any setup: 20 years ago in the peaceful little mining community of Valentine Bluffs, an explosion of methane gas took the lives of a group of coal miners on Valentine's Day, all because supervisors left their posts to attend the annual Valentine's Day dance. Oops.

A year later, Harry Warden, the only survivor of the accident - and he did look a bit plumper when they rescued him (wink wink, nudge nudge) - retaliated by killing the supervisors and warning the town never to hold another Valentine's Day dance.

Fair enough; I'd listen to a warning like that.

Flash-forward 20 years later as a group of young adults (let's just call them "teens", even if they are older, just because they all act stupid and won't listen to reason) decides to hold another dance.

Idiots.

After the usual warnings pop up - blood-soaked heart in a candy box, old woman tumble-dried to death in a laundromat, the usual stuff - all accompanied by ominous messages to knock this Valentine crap off, the dance is canceled. Good.

But (and there's always a "but" in movies like this because the people in them are stupid) a Valentine party is held in its place... at the coal mine.

You stupid moronic idiotic teenage-acting-and-thinking idiots!!!

Well. Because these "teens" and everyone else in this town all seem to be auditioning for their own personal Darwin Awards, they begin dying violently. Pickaxes to the chest and face, shower nozzle through the back of the head, hard-boiling of faces, nail-gunning, limb-chopping, hanging: everything that makes Valentine's Day memorable. See what happens when you don't listen to Harry Warden?

My Bloody Valentine came out during the heyday of Fangoria Magazine, which shows production pics of all "the good shots" from upcoming horror movies. I remember catching the issue that had pics from this beauty in it, many gory, detailed captures showed the salivating reader looking for blood and gore just what they could expect at their local theater.

Of course, many of them would be sadly disappointed, but I'll get to that....

This was concocted by story creator Stephen A. Miller whose career led up to this by writing for such TV shows as "The Jeffersons", "Flo" and that one show where MacLean Stevenson played a priest. The script was detailed by John Beaird who also wrote, ironically, Happy Birthday to Me, which did for birthday cakes and shish-kebabs what this movie does for miners. Which ain't much.

Director George Mihalka began his career by helming that 1980s sleaze epic Pick-Up Summer then made a career of directing many films and TV shows you've probably never heard of before in your life. Lord knows I hadn't. There are a few good camera angles here and there, but that's like trying to find Waldo when you're not really sure he's there to begin with.

The actors themselves all try their best but, seeing that 90% of them (and this whole production, in fact) hail from Canada, that's about 1/3 of the U.S. going rate for talent here in the States, so a lot of it doesn't get across the border. You may recognize names like Neil Affleck, Lori Hallier, Cynthia Dale and Helene Udy, since they are synonymous with stuff like this and many of them were there in the thick of it when it came to Canada's churned-out theatrical junk - in fact, if you had HBO at all during the mid-Eighties, you've probably seen the biggest chunk of this cast's work.

Now, about the effects: they are, for lack of a better word, good. Effective I guess is the best way to put it. But in its original release, albeit in its first VHS and DVD releases, the censors did more hacking and chopping than Harry Warden did, leaving carnage still, but not the kind of blood and guts those earlier Fangoria readers were coming into the theater to see. Can't give that Video Nasty group any reason to throw a conniption, now can we?

Of course, they got everything back to where it was meant to be seen 20-plus years down the road, but seeing that My Bloody Valentine's wealth was in its gore, could it stand on atmosphere alone?

Some. Cinematographer Rodney Gibbons gave a gritty look and feel to the proceedings and editors Gérald Vansier and Rit Wallis knew how to splice things together so that the viewer got their money's worth for shocks. But as far as actual bank-ability goes...?

For a budget of $2,300,000 in Canadian earning back almost $6 million American, I guess that's pretty respectable, though I don't know the allowance between currencies off the top of my head. Maybe it just sounds good, like having one million Mexican pesos sounds good until you convert it?

As far as a crass exercise in earning money for being on the holiday killer kick, My Bloody Valentine has no shame. It tries pretending it's original, but it just renamed Jason Voorhees Harry Warden, changed a summer camp into a mining town and replaced Kevin Bacon with Canadian bacon - or ham in this case.

I didn't care much for it, but darned if I don't still feel some nostalgia for this thing. After all, My Bloody Valentine was part of my childhood - as it was of anyone who grew up in the late Seventies/early Eighties. I grew up watching the ads for this on TV, catching glimpses of gore in magazines and wondering if I'd ever have the nerve to see it and find out if it was all that it was cracked up to be.

Well, I had.

And I did.

And it wasn't.

But it made me feel like a kid again.

Not that I want to rush out and buy Valentine's cards or anything.

My own mining mask? Maybe.

1985 was the WORST Year for Movies - Part One

Why is it I hate 1985 so much? It never did anything to me.

Oh, I take that back: it gave me memories of some of the absolute bottom of the underside of the barrel of filmic junk ever. And when I say underside of the barrel, I mean the underside that's been in the ground so long that it's all green and slimy and there's worms and bugs and stuff dug into the wood fiber and its kind of eaten through so that the barrel doesn't even hold water anymore.

That's what 1985 means to me.

Yeah yeah; I know, I know...don't give me Back To The Future and Out of Africa and The Color Purple and Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. Those were good movies alright, but in 1985 they were the all-too-rare exceptions to the rule of thumb for this particular year - every movie that came out in 1985 had to be an inconsequential film book trivia footnote that'll make people in, say, 2010, read the name of said film and mutter to themselves, "Yeah...I remember seeing the poster for that one".

They wouldn't mutter it too loud, of course. Or out loud at all if they were with anyone.

There are a lot of disbelievers out there still, but I'm ready for them. For that reason, I have complied a comprehensive list of films from this year that, to be perfectly honest, I didn't even remember the largest part of until I wrote about them just now.

How's THAT for unmemorable junk?

So for you who need convincing, here is the first installment of another regular series on films released in 1985 that illustrate my point perfectly. Eloquently. Precisely. I don't even have to write about them: just show the poster art and you'll nod, realize I'm right and bow your head in shame for recognizing the movie to begin with.

But don't worry, I'll write a paragraph about each one, if just to rub your "pro-1985" face in it.

Now brace yourself for re-entry into your memory banks of bad memories - here is the first segment of movies from 1985 that all deserve to stay forgotten. Let's remember them together (and in random order, no less...):

ELENI

Typical Oscar fodder that was, quite literally, dry and stale and as boring as an English lesson. I've never been impressed with Kate Nelligan and, as a Greek mother killed during a civil war in 1949, she isn't really that good - or interesting. And unfortunately, this was made before everyone wanted to be John Malkovich, who's also pretty blank. And the look of the film itself is cold, dull and gray. Quite a feat for Technicolor.




ONCE BITTEN

A Jim Carrey Comedy. Gotta be funny, right? Wrong. Vampire comedies never work (I cite David Niven's Old Dracula and Nicolas Cage's Vampire's Kiss as cases in point) and with Lauren Hutton as the headlining bloodsucker, there's beauty but no bite. And certainly no laughs. Even Cleavon Little contributes nothing as Lauren's gay chauffeur (I think every Eighties comedy had one, it was the law). Man, Blazing Saddles was so long ago....



A VIEW TO A KILL

I've expounded on this one before, but this really is the worst James Bond movie ever. Yes, even worse than Die Another Day. Tanya Roberts? Feh. Christopher Walken? Bleh. Grace Jones? Meh. Roger Moore? Oy!






RUSTLERS' RHAPSODY

A cowboy parody comedy, post-Blazing Saddles? This took some guts. And it still blew harder than a tumbleweed across the prairie. Tom Berenger is not funny, G.W. Bailey is annoying, Andy Griffith offers a wan smile but the rest is so stupid and ham-handed that every semblance of humor is gone. And this was written AND directed by the guy who made Police Academy, which was The Producers compared to this. And speaking of Police Academy....



POLICE ACADEMY 2: THEIR FIRST ASSIGNMENT

Trust me, there'll be even more sequels on these lists, but this one (to the 1984 hit) looks like everyone settled for one take in each scene. And it's also PG-13, whereas the original was rated R. Trying to appeal to a broader audience, no doubt; but without as many raunchy laughs as the first, they substitute a lot of gratuitous Bob Goldthwait, shrieking and yelling. For the kids. When you find yourself yearning for Georgina Spelvin to pop up from beneath a table, you know a movie's wanting.




REMO WILLIAMS: THE ADVENTURE BEGINS

What's worse than a misbegotten franchise starter? A misbegotten franchise starter that stops dead after the first installment! Based on the "Destroyer" series of books, everyone involved knew better than this - especially a chameleon-like Joel Grey as the mysterious Chiun. This is so heavy on setup and just goes on and on and ON that by the time the actual story kicks in, there's only a half-hour or so of action...but by then the viewer simply loses all interest. That's what you call "not good".



FRIDAY THE 13TH PART V: A NEW BEGINNING

The whole Friday the 13th series is just bull-puckey to begin with, but what are we to make of a sequel that picks up from what was supposed to be THE FINAL CHAPTER, and doesn't even have Jason Voorhees in it? Halloween III has its defenders, but this one - NO. Even the killer's mask is different; that in itself should tell you something.






GYMKATA

Gymnast Kurt Thomas' first (and last) starring role as a gymnast fighting for the US of A is an endurance test for him and more so for the audience. A pommel horse in the middle of an ancient village? Parallel bars in an alley? Director Robert Clouse aims for another Enter the Dragon but comes up with Enter the Lame Duck. Hey, at least it gave Buck Kartalian some work.





TARGET

Arthur Penn is (or was) a great director. Gene Hackman is (or was) a great actor. Matt Dillon has (or had) a brilliant career. All three are thrown away in a father-son spy story that could have been directed by and starred anyone. Or no one, in this case. Incredibly bland for global espionage stuff: of all Hackman's movies, this is probably the one he wishes he could perform some covert elimination on.





RED SONJA

Come on, a comic book adaptation, sword and sorcery, Arnold Schwarzenegger in full-out breech-clothed warrior mode. What happened? Brigitte Nielsen, that's what happened. Ever since she hooked up with Sylvester Stallone, she became another model who thought she could act. But even with a red wig, big ol' sword and more cleavage than Arnie, Gitte isn't a shade on her comic book source material. In fact, young Ernie Reyes Jr. is the best thing in the entire film. Speaking of which, whatever happened to him...?



Well, there's a good starter for expecting what is to come. Lots more examples, and believe me, they will be even worse than these.

Gah, I HATE HATE HATE HATE 1985! GARRRR!!!!!

...sorry.

Stay tuned for the next installment when I hate on Susan Sarandon, deride Fisher Stevens and slam Disney. Twice!

Dope out.

- TGWD

15 Days Till Halloween....

Every once in awhile, you come across a video that makes you just stare in dumbfounded silence, stare at the screen and go over in your brain what you're thinking about what you just witnessed.

THIS, my friends, is that video.



Hey, even Jason Voorhees has to promote himself once in awhile.

Dope out.

-TGWD

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

What constitutes a bad dream?

And I'm not asking in literal terms here, merely in filmic ones. Everyone's idea of a bad dream varies; what is scary to you may not be scary to another (getting caught in public with no pants is far different than being chased by creatures you cannot see). But putting these ideas to film to symbolize the tortured mind of a dreamer is touchy If it doesn't make the viewer scream out, then it'll most likely make them laugh.

So was the problem faced by Wes Craven when it came to A Nightmare On Elm Street; in a movie with "nightmare" in the title, he'd have to make sure this was stuff that would indeed give you bad dreams after seeing it. He succeeded, but the main reason is not in the storytelling nor in the artistry of directing itself (more on that later).

The plot, as anyone who grew up in the '80s can no doubt recite to you, is basic enough: the teenagers on Elm Street have been having horrible nightmares lately, all of them centering around steamy basements, dark alleyways, impenetrable shadows and a cackling boogeyman with razors for fingers. After the death of some of her friends, Nancy (Heather Langenkamp) discovers the truth behind the horror of the child-killing beast known as Freddy Krueger (Robert Englund) and why the parents of Elm Street, her father (John Saxon) included, have kept it a secret all these years.

By that synopsis, you wouldn't expect anything spectacular...especially if you were familiar with the likes of Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers. After all, we're talking about a simple, jump-from-your-seat shocker without any of the psychological twists of a Silence of the Lambs or the understated shocks of a Psycho. This is more along the slash-and-chop mad killer vein from the Friday the 13th and Halloween vein, though not holiday-specific. By taking facets of Samoan folklore where children died in their sleep of heart failure after horrific dreams, and Craven's own experiences in his youth with bullies and scary hoboes, the characters and symbolism took shape, creating the movie as it is known today.

The special effects are well-done, to say the least. Over 500 gallons of stage blood were used throughout the film, Freddy's charred skin and exposed musculature is quite effective and there are imaginative deaths (in one, Freddy makes it seem as if a troubled youth has hung himself). The makeup department and special effects team are the real stars here.

And far be it from me to ignore what was put in acting-wise. Langenkamp is effective as the troubled Nancy, who grows increasingly more frustrated as the deaths mount up and no one believes her when she blames a spectral killer. Saxon does the dogged cop role once again with a dash of over-protective father thrown in for good measure; Saxon has yet to play any role unconvincingly and goes great here as well. And Johnny Depp's early role as Glen showed promise and flash even then as a teen who admits "Morality sucks".

But what review of Nightmare would be complete without bestowing the proper credit onto Robert Englund? An honest-to-goodness actor (whose biggest role prior to this was as one of the "good-guy" invaders from the TV miniseries "V") whose prominence today as "this generation's Vincent Price" is due in large part to this movie. Seen as a vile, repulsive creature with no redeemable qualities, Krueger's role can only be essayed as high camp. And as it would have been for Price in films like The Abominable Dr. Phibes and Theater of Blood, Englund pours on the gusto and gives it all he's got. For all intents and purposes, Freddy Krueger IS the boogeyman.

But as I said earlier, Nightmare was never meant to be a really effective horror film. What it does create, however, is the unsettling sense of how bad dreams feel to us (or at least to MOST of us). Disorienting surroundings, sudden peals of mad laughter, being chased by something that seems to surround you, the fear of almost certain death - these are all touched on in nearly every moment of the movie. Note that I said TOUCHED ON, not examined. They unsettle, they frighten, then move in for the kill. Not a moment herein challenges, only shocks.

That's the way it's supposed to be, though, you see. Nightmare was not supposed to be a thoughtful undertaking into the psyche of a young teen's mind and what he or she feels AND fears. That would be an entire universe removed from what we see here. Think about it; in all the horror movies you've seen made in recent years based on the mad-killer-after-teens plotline, how many can you think of that actually made you THINK about what you're being afraid of onscreen? Or at least made you wonder about what the person ONSCREEN is thinking?

Well, at least we know what Freddy Krueger is thinking. This is certainly one of those movies where the bad guy gets all the good scenes. Or at least the most memorable ones. How can you root for the good guys or hope that they survive the horrors brought forth when the horrors themselves are embodied so entertainingly?

Am I being too critical? After all, for a movie that made many times over its budget and served New Line Cinemas long and well as a multi-million dollar franchise, no one would think of straying away from a tried-and-true formula. That just wouldn't be Hollywood. And indeed, it appears that Nightmare came into a life of its own with a multitude of sequels, spinoffs (TV's "Freddy's Nightmares"), Halloween costumes, Freddy dolls and fans galore the world over. So in a manner of speaking, Freddy Krueger did just as well as Jason and Michael, if not in the same psychological ballpark as Hannibal Lecter or Norman Bates.

It would take years before Craven (who went on to parody such films with the Scream series) would come back to direct YET ANOTHER sequel to his original creation. But at least in Wes Craven's New Nightmare he (and most of the original cast) hits the nail on the head while examining the joys, pitfalls and true horrors of being part of such a franchise opportunity as Freddy Krueger.

Which is, in the end, all that A Nightmare on Elm Street ends up being.