The Machine Girl (2008)

Directed by: Noboru Iguchi
Starring: Minase Yashiro, Asami, Nobuhiro Nishimura, Honoka, Kentaro Shimazu, Ryousuke Kawamura

(out of 4)

Wow, don’t I feel inadequate!

About 13 minutes in to Noboru Iguchi’s Kataude mashin gâru (from here on referred to as The Machine Girl), teenage yakuza/ninja in training Sho (Nobuhiro Nishimura) is made to drink his father’s (Kentaro Shimazu) blood, which flows from dad’s wrist to son’s mouth in copious amounts of crimson, to “strengthen their bond”. Of course, by this time, we’ve already seen our heroine Ami Hyuga (a cute and tough Minase Yashiro in her first acting role) take revenge on multiple teen yakuza bullies by blasting them to pieces with a machine gun attached to the stump where her arm used to be.

The Machine Girl is full of flying limbs, decapitated heads, chopped fingers, and spurting blood so plentiful that in some scenes it sprays the camera lens - just one of the few homages to Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead  movies (the giveaway is the arm-machine-gun attachment, which in 2008 generates comparisons to Rodriguez’ Planet Terror, but when I see souped-up ass-kicker Ami dispatch multiple assholes in gory fashion, it seems to me like she’s a certain reincarnation of Bruce Campbell’s Ash). And like Ash, who was a mild mannered S-Mart employee turned unwanted hero, so too, is Ami: originally non-violent, shunned by her community for crimes her parents didn’t commit, wrongfully called a murderer, and having her brother Yu (Ryôsuke Kawamura) killed by Sho’s gang, she is finally driven to ironically fulfill the role assigned to her.

Oh my God! They’ve killed Kenny! You Bastards!

Later on, when physically tortured by Sho’s family, which includes the completely insane dragon lady mom (Honoka - another AV actress hottie who would be at home in a Tarantino flick), Ami begins her physical transformation into monster/instrument of revenge. But by that time, her psyche has already started the journey. Speaking of Tarantino, comparisons between Ami and Uma Thurman’s bride from the Kill Bill movies is not off the mark. Even the beginning title sequence seems ripped from Tarantino, who of course gets his inspiration from 70s grindhouse cinema. So it’s the east stealing from the west stealing from the east, and around and around we go!

Let’s be honest here - this movie isn’t for the kids. While it’s true that the film is done up like a live action anime (the music sounds like it comes straight out of Dragonball Z; the camera likes to pan right to left over a character’s face, just like in anime), and much of the gore is delivered over the top with humorous intent (think Riki-Oh, or maybe early Peter Jackson splatter like Bad Taste and Dead-Alive), it’s still pretty harsh stuff. Ami spraying blood from a headless victim into the face of the victim’s dad may be funny for the sheer balls of it, but seriously, damn. What about the poor chef forced to eat sushi made from his own fingers or the mother and son who have the tops of their heads sliced off and exchanged? I think you get the idea.

Not bad, but needs more soy and wasabi

Then again, bubbling up through all the pools of blood is this concept of that blood’s capacity to bond a family together. Whether someone is good or evil, they always have parents who love them, right? The strong ties between Ami and her brother, Sho and his parents, Takeshi and his parents Suguru and Miki, take center stage. For example, the ninja squad sent to kill Ami and Miki (Japanese model Asami - also hot) are, of course, slaughtered in gory fashion. The grieving parents are then recruited into the “Super Mourner Gang” to get revenge. (They all wear pictures of their slain sons on their chest, while occasionally shouting out their kids names). Iguchi is interested in exploring themes of revenge begetting revenge, and of blood feuds, and of the bonds between parents and children. That is, when he’s not aiming geysers of blood at us.

The performances, especially from the female leads, are energetic which matches director Iguchi’s hyper kinetic visual style of filming. It’s Honoka’s evil babe Mamma Hattori that steals the show, however - her character is completely off the deep end - I mean, her weapon of choice is a drill bra. That’s right, a drill bra.

Comes from the Victoria’s Secret in Akihabara

The Machine Girl is surreal, gory, offensive, funny, outrageous, twisted, and absolutely, positively Japanese.

- Bill G

Friday the 13th, Part 2 (1981)

Director: Steve Miner
Starring: Amy Steel, John Furey, Adrienne King, Kirsten Baker, Stuart Charno, Walt Gorney, Marta Kober, Betsy Palmer, Tom McBride, Bill Randolph, Lauren-Marie Taylor, Jack Marks

(out of 4)

After the enourmous success of Friday the 13th (almost $40 million), a sequel was inevitable. This was quite alright, as horror sequels weren’t so prevalent in 1981 as they are now. Nowadays it seems all we get is sequels and remakes, but try to imagine a time where Jason was still just a legend and Freddy Krueger was merely a gleam in Wes Craven’s eye.

Oh My God! The milk’s gone bad!

The pre-credits sequence plays back the ending of the first movie, where Alice (Adrienne King) chops Mrs. Voorhees’ (Betsy Palmer) head off. Two months later, she is trying to get her life back together, but doesn’t get very far in that regard - Mrs. Voorhees’ head shows up in her fridge right before Jason puts an ice pick into her temple. At least he takes the whistling tea kettle off the burner. By the way, how the hell did Jason Voorhees make it out of the lake, find clothes, locate Alice’s house, prank call her, and then drag her body back to the camp? I mean, I know he’s resourceful but come on.

Hi, I’m Ralph, town doomsayer. I do make housecalls.

Fast forward five years (1984 - the future!), and a new batch of cattle show up accompanied by a practical joke played on Jeff (his truck is towed - haha!) The bear-and-rabbit joke also makes an appearance before Eddie Murphy told it in Delirious. Crazy Ralph (Walt Gorney), naturally, is on hand with his warnings of doom.

Head camp counselor Paul and his girlfriend/assistant Ginny (a spunky Amy Steel) get the bright idea of setting up a counselor training camp near Crystal Lake. Say, what do they teach you at a counselor training camp? We never find out, as Jason shows up to give his special brand of hospitality. Get the body bags.

Here’s a story… of a guy named Jason…

Victims include Ralph, who is dispatched early on while watching a makeout session (Jason doesn’t like peeping Toms). Too bad because Jason and Ralph would have made a good team - Ralph of course playing the role Steve Buscemi played in Desperado. Terri (Kirsten Baker, totally hot) goes skinny dipping by herself, gets her clothes stolen by boyfriend Scott, and then the film has her mercifully killed off screen. Scott of course, gets strung up in a trap before being shaved by Jason’s machete - in the neck area. Wheelchair-bound Mark is macheted in the face - before he even gets a chance to get laid. Total bummer.

Kingdom of magic, indeed!

Friday the 13th Part 2 is typical of Hollywood sequels - much more rushed than its predecessor. The first film attempted to establish parallels with a Biblical Armageddon, and spent a little more time with the characters before putting them six feet under, while this movie simply takes the set-em-up-and-knock-em-down route. For example, Deputy Winslow (Jack Marks) shows up to chastise Jeff and Sandra for sneaking into Camp Crystal Lake, only to be killed at Jason’s shed/home in the very next scene. Well, that’s what you get for just barging into people’s houses.

With this subprime fiasco, this beautiful country home is surprisingly affordable!

The fact is, this film is fairly routine stuff. It’s not even that gory, really. What it does have going for it is the early 80s vibe, which seems a good fit for these kinds of movies. There’s also an effective sequence where psychology major Ginny stumbles into Jason’s cabin and stalls Jason by impersonating his mom. (She simply puts on mom’s sweater.) Jason, of course, conveniently forgets that mom’s head is sitting on a table right behind her. Finally, part 2 steals certain sequences from other films - Jason hasn’t discovered hockey yet, so here they have him wearing a sack over his head with holes in it - that’s straight out of The Town That Dreaded Sundown. The famous spear-through-the-couple-having-sex moment is a nod to Mario Bava’s Bay of Blood, but it’s not as explicit.

Jason…did you get the potatoes for the stew like I asked you?

Friday the 13th Part 2 is a by-the-numbers follow-up with a decent female lead in Amy Steel but rather underwhelming otherwise. Being a bit of a hack-job from director Steve Miner (who also gave us Part 3), it’s derivative in the same sense that other followups to the first film are (like The Burning, The Final Terror, etc), and pretty much gets by on name recognition (King, Palmer, and Gorney are brought back for bit parts). It does, however, try to establish the killer’s psychological profile and play on mother-issues (Jason’s a mamma’s boy - duh - but he ain’t no Norman Bates). As Friday sequels go, I suppose you could do worse.

-Bill G

I really like the flow of the place. The corpses really bring out the colors!

Valentine (2001)
Director: Jamie Blanks
Starring: Denise Richards, David Boreanaz, Marley Shelton, Jessica Capshaw, Jessica Cauffiel, Katherine Heigl

1/2   (out of 4)

Revenge of the Nerd!

At the 8th grade dance, complete nerd Jeremy Melton is turned down by just about every girl, falsely accused of attacking an overweight Dorothy, doused in red punch (Carrie-style), and then beat to a pulp by bullies. Not a good start to his teenage years, which, incidentally, involve mental hospitals and the fiery deaths of his parents.

13 years later, the bitchy girls and the plump one are all grown up. They are all still friends, however unbelievable that is. And one by one they receive threatening Valentines Day cards right before being skewered by a killer in a cherub mask. He signs the cards J.M. … is the killer Jeremy come back for revenge?

Michael Myers’ other mask is in the wash.

That’s the setup for Valentine, your standard “holiday” slasher that begins well with an effective murder sequence in a morgue. Med school student Shelley is attacked by the psycho, at one point forcing her to hide in a body bag among the corpses. In probably the only clever sequence in the film, our Cupid killer starts unzipping bags, then figures out that simply stabbing through each one is much more efficient. Cue up the next scene, where Paige (Denise Richards) and Kate (Marley Shelton) go through a speed dating ritual, the purpose of which is to set up all males in the film as self-absorbed, oafish, nerdy, or some combination of all the above. Take Kate’s boyfriend, Adam. He’s a drunk. Dorothy’s boyfriend Campbell (Daniel Cosgrove) is a con man. Lily’s artist boyfriend Max (Johnny Whitworth) is a swinging jerk. Even Detective Vaughn (Fulvio Cecere) can’t keep his hands to himself, coming onto Paige right in the police station. (It must be the fact that she’s the only non-blonde. Personally, those damn eyebrows scare me). Worst of all, one of them might be the killer!

Doesn’t take much to hypnotize Denise Richards - just concentrate on the shiny bald spot!

Not that the girls fare any better than the guys. They are also self-absorbed and spoiled, when they aren’t busy wielding their sexuality as a weapon. In fact, all the people in Valentine are so unlikeable, that when they die there’s no caring about any of it. It’s just rich good looking people being complete assholes to other rich good looking people. And once in awhile some of these people get killed. Should I feel pity, or glee? The killer in the cherub mask seems to be telling us that love hurts, but there is no love in this movie, only obsession, or self-obsession. Perhaps that is the point. There’s a dark side to Valentines Day - at what point does a secret admirer become a stalker? Is that what the movie wants us to ask? Probably not, as the Valentine theme is hardly utilized.

You said there would be Caravaggio paintings here! This isn’t really the same thing, is it?

Anyway, it all adds up to a rather tame flick akin to your typical post-Scream horror, like a Halloween episode of Beverly Hills 90210. The movie is closer to a PG-13 than its R-rating; sex is promised but never followed up on (man-hater Paige leaves her male suitor naked, tied up, and with a penis burned by candle wax - I guess that’s one way to say “No”) and the deaths seem cruel but are strangely bloodless. Valentine seems more interested in bringing up issues of paranoia and trust, asking questions like “How well do you really know someone?” Yeah, because that guy you know could be that kid you bullied in school now grown up into a serial killer! The ending plays a little game of switcheroo, confirming that the identity of the murderer is exactly the person you thought it was in the first place (It’s a whodunit without really being one). Valentine looks pretty good - director Jamie Blanks (Urban Legend) knows how to setup a scene (a murder-by-bow-and-arrow inside a multimedia art installation works well, even if it’s nonsensical), but the problem is that the stage is populated with Barbie and Ken dolls and aimed at the audience who watched anything on the WB network. Otherwise, there are better movies to focus your attention on, as this one is a combination of a slasher and a murder mystery that fails to ultimately satisfy as either. Dario Argento and Mario Bava did it better.

- Bill G

“Hey Denise! Check out this bitchin’ new hair dryer!”

Superstition (1982)
Director: James W. Roberson
Starring: James Houghton, Albert Salmi, Lynn Carlin, Larry Pennell, Jacquelyn Hyde, Stacy Keach Sr.,

(out of 4)

Ah, the old Head-in-the-Microwave Gag!

WARNING: Some spoilers ahead.

Superstition is a Canadian flick (I think) from 1982, but I would swear it was directed by somebody like Umberto Lenzi or Lamberto Bava. It plays like an alternate universe version of Argento’s Suspiria, if it was directed by somebody like Lucio Fulci. In other words, it’s just plain bad, but gory enough and silly enough to keep one interested. There are no real characters in this movie, just meat for the grinder. Basically, Superstition is a succession of kills strung together to a funny prog soundtrack (by David Gibney, doing his best Goblin impersonation). It’s also partly produced by Kassar and Vajna - how the hell did they get involved in this?

Some of the kills are gory (spinning blade through the torso), some disturbing (spike through a girl’s forehead), some stupid (guy cut in half by a window pane - how the hell does that happen?), some funny (exploding head in microwave) and some downright boring (hanging, body thrown around room). But there certainly are a lot of them.

Works better than Advil

So who’s causing all this commotion? Well it turns out that many years ago, a witch was sentenced to drowning, and in order to keep her in the lake, a special cross was tossed in to make sure she keeps out of trouble. Folks, it didn’t work. The priest who sentenced her to a watery grave gives no good reason why she isn’t just burned. I guess his heart wasn’t in it? As soon as she hits the water the village burns down. Bad sign #1. Soon the poor priest finds himself crushed to death. Bad sign #2. That cross must obviously be defective.

It’s years later, and the witch is still at it - killing anybody who comes near the lake, and the old house in front of it. I think the creators of this movie wanted an Amityville vibe, but there isn’t much time to build up a mood in that regard, with all the slaughtering going on. What we do get is a clueless reverend named David Thompson, a cowardly dad, a few babes, a kid, a priest, a strange old lady and her retarded son, an incompetent detective (played by Albert Salmi, who in real life would later die with his wife in a murder/suicide), and a girl who may or may not be a ghost. The priest is killed early on by a spinning circular saw blade, which flies across the room at him. The fact that it is still spinning under some ghostly power as it burrows through his chest seems to be of no importance to those who witnessed it. Rev. David Thompson says he’s shaken up, but otherwise reacts as if he just witnessed a minor rear end collision. The rest of the running time is filled with people running back and forth in full panic mode, but for some reason failing to run in the one direction that might save them, namely out the front door.

This is not a dream. We are speaking to you from the year one, nine…

Spoiler: everybody dies in this film. Well, why shouldn’t they? They have created a monster (not shown, by the way, except for monster hands with claws) that has pretty much been established as invincible. You gotta wonder about movies like this where Satan can do whatever he wants. Crosses don’t work (well, one cross sort-of-works) ,priests are useless. Hey, God! We could use a little more help down here! After a while, one wonders if they should just drain the pond, bulldoze the place and put up condos or something. Maybe the witch will want to be superintendent.

-Bill G

Bad Day at Sunday School

Black Christmas (2006)

Directed by : Glen Morgan

Starring: Katie Cassidy, Michelle Trachtenberg, Kristen Cloke, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Lacey Chabert, Andrea Martin, Crystal Lowe, Oliver Hudson, Karin Konoval, Robert Mann

1/2   (out of 4)

Daddy, can’t we get a star or an angel for our tree like every other family?

Bob Clark’s Black Christmas was a little gem of a holiday horror flick that inspired a whole truckload of films, including John Carpenter’s Halloween. And like Halloween, recently remade by Rob Zombie, Black Christmas has also been, as they say, “re-imagined”, and the result is fairly close to what I expected. That is to say, most movies that are remade don’t need to be, and the new versions make the argument better than anyone. Glen Morgan’s version of Black Christmas is no exception - it’s a Christmas horror slasher that drops all the subtleties of the original and replaces them with 21st century cynicism and a high gore content, but little else.

Not that gore is a bad thing. In point of fact, it happens to be the best thing about the new Black Christmas, which shares in common with the original film a plot regarding a crazed psycho named Billy who makes menacing phone calls while he’s butchering sorority sisters in their home over Christmas holiday break. What surprised me was the amount of eye violence, which reaches levels of absurdity that not even Lucio Fulci could have imagined. I got a brief flashback to a scene in Fulci’s The Beyond after I witnessed an impalement through the eye, coming out the back of the victim’s head with the eyeball still attached to the murder weapon. It’s a brief amusement in a movie that is actually really stupid.

Garbage day!

It’s Christmas time at the insert-funny-sorority-name-here house, and all the girls are gathered around the tree, exchanging gifts, drinking booze, and generally hating on Christmas and each other. “Fuck Christmas!” one girl cries, while another gives the the expected “it’s all bullshit” routine about the holiday’s pagan roots. Another fantasizes out loud about burying the hatchet with her estranged sister, “in her head”. During the insanely large amount of exposition given in a short 5 minute time frame (which in itself is appalling in its delivery), I realized the amount of hostility this film has towards Christmas. Is it just a sign of the times that everybody in Black Christmas is either a total bitch or a lunatic? I don’t know, but I don’t remember the original film taking this kind of attitude. That’s what made the original melancholic as well as frightening - the idea that death would intrude on what is normally a peaceful, happy affair. But in the remake, since nobody really cares about anything, we don’t care when they get killed. The girls, who are all fairly interchangeable, don’t have much to offer beyond being meat for the grinder. And what little they do offer makes them unlikeable.

The original gave never before seen motifs like killer-point-of-view and killer-calling-from-in-the-house. It also kept the origins of is murderer purposefully vague. Over thirty years later, we’ve all seen every possible variation on these themes, so the new movie jettisons all of that in favor of a back story of killer Billy and his sister Agnes. Parts of the film flash back to Billy growing up, where he has to endure his crazy mother murdering his father, then locking him up in the attic while occasionally coming up to engage in incest. Having been completely dumped for new baby sister Agnes, Billy goes berserk, killing mom and making Christmas cookies out of her. It’s all done in Grand Guignol fashion, and is probably the only truly interesting part of the flick.

I’m kinda full. Just leave those out for Santa.

The rest of the running time is dedicated to the different ways of being killed and having ones eyes removed to be used as tasty hors d’œuvre. Again, this would be fine if the plot devices and characters weren’t so stupid. In this day and age, when people are aware that a crazed serial killer is in the vicinity, would they really get into a car without checking the backseat first? And would they purposefully go into the attic where the killer has been determined to be hiding? Wouldn’t paramedics take a close look at supposed dead bodies to make sure they are really dead before zipping them up? Finally, I am confused as to how, in a movie that establishes that a blizzard has downed power lines, delayed police, and caused massive pile-ups, still manages to stage a denouement in a hospital where nurses, police, morgue attendants, victims, and television reporters had no trouble getting to.

I think underneath it all, Morgan was trying to deliver a commentary on what it means to be family, but it’s not strong enough to make it through the morass. The major problem though, is that no movie is seen in a vacuum, remakes especially. The reason one remakes a film (in an ideal world, of course) is to improve upon it. Morgan’s movie removes the elements that made the original work (like style, structure, atmosphere) and ramps up the ones that were left out for a good reason. There’s no particular charm to it, and it doesn’t have any strong characters in the style of Margot Kidder or John Saxon. But that’s par for the course in horror these days. As holiday slashers go, you could do worse than Black Christmas 2006, but then again you could certainly do better.

- Bill Gordon

This is the weirdest fortune teller I’ve ever been to.

There’s a movie coming out called Báthory. It’s Slovakian and should be released next year. The plot deals with the life of Elizabeth Báthory, a Hungarian countess who lived from 1560 to 1614. The story takes place in what is now Slovakia (at the time it was a part of the Kingdom of Hungary).

Báthory is known as Bloody Lady of Cachtice, the most infamous serial killer in Hungarian and Slovak history. She was an educated woman who could read and write in four languages. The Báthory family was one of the wealthiest in Central Europe. The rivalry they had with the Habsburgs is considered a potential reason for conspiracy against her.

Oil Painting of the Countess, believed to be a realistic portrait

In 1610 and 1611, testimonies were collected from more than 300 witness accounts, which suggest that Báthory killed many local peasant girls. The descriptions of torture that emerged during the trials were often based on hearsay. They included:

• severe beatings over extended periods of time
• burning or mutilation of hands, faces, and genitalia
• biting the flesh off the faces, arms and other bodily parts
• freezing or starving victims to death

In 1610, she was imprisoned in Cachtice Castle, where she remained in her room until her death four years later.

If you watched Hostel - Part II, you saw a woman (Monika Malacova) bathing in the blood draining out of a hanging victim. Eli Roth called her Mrs. Bathory. This is in reference to the legend that Elizabeth Báthory bathed in the blood of her victims so that she may retain her youth and beauty. This legend was spread in the 1700s by men like László Turóczi’s and Matthias Bel. However, there is no proof that this ever happened.

Scene from Hostel: Part Eww

The emergence of the bloodbath myth coincided with the vampire scares that haunted Europe in the early 18th century. The connection between the two myths would later be made in the 1970s. Some have tried to establish the myth surrounding Elizabeth Báthory as a source of influence for Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel Dracula. This theory is strongly disputed, however.

Ingrid Pitt in Countess Dracula, a Hammer horror film from 1971 based on Elizabeth Báthory

Children of the Corn (1984)

Director: Fritz Kiersch

Starring: Peter Horton, Linda Hamilton, John Franklin, Courtney Gains, Robby Kiger, Anne Marie McEvoy

1/2   (out of 4)

Too much strawberry ice cream makes me sick.

Children of the Corn was originally a Stephen King short story. I haven’t read it. But if this movie is any indication of what the book is like, I’ll never be reading it. Before the opening credits even roll, we’re treated to voiceover narration by the movie’s main kid hero Jobe (Robby Kiger). “It was about 3 years ago. I was the only kid in church that day…”. Oh Jesus, here we go. Massive exposition voiced by a kid. The strong suit of horror movies (and I think, most Stephen King novels) is in the power of the image, but before we even see anything we have to listen to a boy dumb it down for us.

Not much of any interest happens after the beginning slaughter scene in a diner. We learn that a boy preacher named Isaac (John Franklin) has created a cult based around some demon in the corn fields of Gatlin, Nebraska. His right hand man is an older teen named Malachai (played by Courtney Gains, a good casting decision. Back in 1984 he looked like some Amish kid gone off the deep end). At Isaac’s command, all adults in town are brutally killed. Three years later, nobody outside of Gatlin seems to have given a shit, and the kids are still busy doing their cult thing when yuppie couple Burt (Peter Horton) and Vicky (Linda Hamilton) stumble into town.

Gatlin: City of Ethanol and High Fructose Corn Syrup!

Let’s get the religious symbolism out of the way: Malachi was originally the first of the Biblical minor prophets, meaning “God’s helper/God’s messenger”. It may be helpful to know that the Book of Malachi, the last book in the Hebrew Old Testament, was written in response to corruption of the Israelites, particularly the priests. Armed with this knowledge, we can successfully predict the outcome of the movie Malachi’s relationship with boy-priest Isaac. The Biblical Isaac, of course, is the son of Abraham. You might be tempted to believe that Children of the Corn is taking potshots at Judaism but this seems doubtful in light of Burt’s later comment that any religion not based on love and compassion is a false one. Then again, the Old Testament isn’t exactly a shining example of God’s love, as it involves a lot of blood, death, and sacrifice. It also doesn’t help matters that all the cult members are children. Is that how Stephen King sees religious folk?

Anyway, this is all academic. It’s more fun to talk about this movie than it is to watch it, because the thing is mediocre in just about every sense. There’s no particular imagery of any staying power to take away, except maybe flashes of the Nebraska cornfields, but even that is underutilized. There’s nothing particularly scary, threatening, or suspenseful either. The thing just sort of plods along, with our two heroes driving down lonely highways for what seems like an eternity. The movie occasionally will throw us a bone, like a murder of a gas station attendant, but even that sequence is rather dull and uninspired.

Just lie back and think of Kyle Reese

The characters of Burt and Vicky aren’t exactly the brightest bulbs either. They turn on the car radio and become annoyed at hearing some preacher’s voice, but don’t seem to know that if you turn that little knob thingy you might be able to listen to something else. Burt leaves Vicky alone with little girl psychic Sarah. Guess who ends up kidnapped and tied to a sacrificial cross? Watching Linda Hamilton tied up in the middle of a cornfield gave me a brief flashback to The Wicker Man, but it was only brief. Let’s not kid ourselves.

The ending deals with turning the cornfield into a “lake of fire” to kill the monster/demon thing, but it’s not executed with any particular flair (the word “uninspired” will creep into your head alot during this film). The movie’s budget is too limited to try to show the monster anyway - we just get to see something moving under the field and the occasional explosion or cheesy animation. Even the final “boo” ending is handled with no particular care - when the words “The End” pop up on the screen before our survivors even have the time to drive out of frame, it seems like the creators have been waiting the whole movie to do it. This is probably what happens when people get the bright idea to turn a short story into a 90 minute feature.

We want Menudo!

I have seen worse movies than Children of the Corn, but not many that just seem to be going through the motions. This one left me feeling apathetic. It’s more like a TV movie adaptation than a theatrical film. Quite frankly, how this flick generated 6, count em, 6 sequels is beyond me - I can only assume some cheesy cornfield deity was involved. Nebraska deserves better.

- Bill Gordon

Don’t Answer the Phone! (1980)
Directed by: Robert Hammer
Starring: James Westmoreland, Ben Frank, Flo Gerrish, Nicholas Worth

1/2   (out of 4)

Prime Evil (1988)
Directed by: Roberta Findlay
Starring: William Beckwith, Christine Moore, Mavis Harris, Max Jacobs, Tim Gail, George Krause

1/2 (out of 4)

This Bud’s for you!

I missed out on the Grindhouse experience. But I can imagine what it must have been like. (I appreciated the Weinstein’s Grindhouse, even though it’s just a simulation). The days of old movie theaters with midnight showings, smokers, and pee-smells are over. But the Grindhouse DoubleFeature series, put out by BCI/Eclipse, tries to give us a sample of what was once run on those dirty screens. So far they’ve released a few double feature DVDs, like Sonny Chiba movies, T&A flicks, exploitation action pics, etc.

One of their horror releases is a double header of Don’t Answer the Phone and Prime Evil.

Don’t Answer the Phone is everything you expect out of a 70s/80s grindhouse horror item. It is actually a pretty solid exploitation flick involving a crazy Vietnam vet who likes to strangle women. When he’s not doing that, he’s lifting weights like a madman, talking to his (presumably dead) dad (”Are you proud of me now? Do I measure up?”), creating bizarre shrines to Jesus, and making prank calls to female psychologist Dr. Gale’s (Flo Gerrish) talk radio show (sometimes he poses as a guy named “Ramone”). He’s a huge, ugly dude, and on top of that he moonlights as a sleazy photographer. Yes, this guy is everything you hate about humanity all rolled up into one convenient package.

Who would Jesus strangle?

The surprise is how effective actor Nicolas Worth is at pulling it off. He basically hams up the screen but he’s damn entertaining. Helping him out is director Hammer and writer Mike Castle, who don’t try to explain the killer’s condition too much or zero in on the real reason he does what he does. There’s a few hints at some kind of religious motive but we never really find out, which is probably for the best.

You can break out the exploitation checklist for a movie like this. Crazed strangler? Check. Topless female victims? Check. Sleazy drug addicts… incompetent asshole policemen… twisted psychology… disturbing violence… all there. The icing on the cake is the “comedy” scene involving an impromptu bust at a brothel, where the whores try to snort the evidence and the “freak” clients make a break for the exits, all set to a wacky theme. Well, I guess a scene like this is necessary.

Lady, maybe if you quit doing that, he wouldn’t need a bandage on his head.

There is some emotional weight to Dr. Gale’s therapy sessions with her female clients, just before their inevitable demise. It adds a layer of sympathy with the victims that you wouldn’t normally get in a standard stalk’n’slasher. But let’s not kid ourselves - the movie’s setup is titilation, and it’s knock-down is strangulation. Certainly not for all tastes.

The biggest mystery surrounding Don’t Answer the Phone is why it deserves to be lumped in with that series of movies that begins with the word “Don’t”, and what phones have to do with anything. Why would you think a movie like this is titled “Don’t Answer the Phone”? Perhaps the killer strangles you while you’re on the phone? Eh, not really. Maybe he calls you before he kills you? No, that doesn’t really happen either. Ok, so he strangles women with a phone cord? Nope. Not even close. If anyone out there can figure out what not answering telephones has to do with this movie, please phone us immediately.

Hey Satan, does this outfit make me look fat?

The second feature on the DVD is some flick from 1988 about Satanic monks called Prime Evil, and it’s a prime piece of crap. Grindhouse? Yeah, right - I wouldn’t show this stinker on the side of a wall in somebody’s backyard. Incompetent to the extreme, it’s shot in soap opera style, has some of the worst acting I’ve seen in some time, and is basically all around dumb. The bad casting decisions, while applicable to just about every major character, are especially egregious in regards to the main villains. William Beckwith is laughable as the so-called evil Father Seaton (get it?) and George Krause as the Satanic henchmen named Ben is about as “menacing” as Stephen Furst. I mean, it’s not like I’m comparing the guy to Arnold Schwarzenegger - I’m just comparing him to Nicolas Worth.

I can’t even be bothered to discuss the plot, which is complete nonsense involving virgin sacrifices for 13 years of immortality and whatnot. I just have the painful memory of the so-called priest coming on to our virginal heroine like a frat boy during Rush week. Hey, the idea of being lip-locked with a horny priest doesn’t seem to faze her, so why should we be concerned? And our undercover nun’s sad story about being abused by Satanists is amusing for all the wrong reasons.

Hi, I’m here from Dial-A-Thug for the henchman job.

Watching this movie, I got flashbacks to another similar crapfest called Embrace of the Vampire, which in many ways is the sister to this flick, except the pain of watching that one was offset a bit by a very hot and naked Alyssa Milano. There’s also a strange similarity in plot to, believe it or not, Manos: The Hands of Fate. I’m pretty sure this is the movie Hal Warren would make if he were alive today.

The best part of this “movie” is that once in awhile a nice pair of breasts turns up. I believe I counted 5 different pairs of boobies. At least that’s something to keep you interested. There are also some shots of a nice red Satan puppet. Some makeup intern obviously spent a lot of time on that puppet. It’s a good puppet.

Aww. Satan Puppet is so cute when he’s sleeping.

The most interesting thing about Prime Evil is that it was directed by Roberta Findlay, who was involved with her husband Michael Findlay in a number of 70s sex-and-sleaze-fests. After her husband died in a helicopter accident, she got into hardcore porn and then started cranking out zero budget flotsam like this movie. Hey, a gal’s gotta make a living.

- Bill Gordon

The rest of the disc includes grainy trailers for Horror High, Werewolf vs the Vampire Women, Blood Mania, and Night of the Werewolf.

Session 9 (2001)

Director: Brad Anderson

Starring: David Caruso, Peter Mullan, Stephen Gevedon, Josh Lucas, Brendan Sexton III

1/2 (out of 4)

The Machinist (2004)

Director: Brad Anderson

Starring: Christian Bale, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Aitana Sánchez-Gijón, John Sharian, Michael Ironside

(out of 4)

Screw you.. I’m going to Miami

“Life is always scarier than fiction” says director Brad Anderson, and I think this sentiment is what underlies his films Session 9 and The Machinist. These are horror films with genuinely interesting tableau, and they build tension not with supernatural occurrences but by generating dysphoria from the seemingly mundane - understanding that beneath the veneer of the common man lies monsters more terrible than any lakeside slasher. Anderson realizes that what can be imagined is scarier than what is shown; his films offer up environments with tragic histories that trigger immense paranoia and sometimes even worse - bring to the surface elements of the psyche we never knew we had, and would rather keep buried.

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Lost Souls (2000) 1/2 (out of 4)

Directed by: Janusz Kaminski

Starring: Winona Ryder, Ben Chaplin, Sarah Wynter, Philip Baker Hall, John Hurt, Elias Koteas

Bless the Child (2000) (out of 4)

Directed by: Chuck Russell

Starring: Kim Basinger, Jimmy Smits, Holliston Coleman, Rufus Sewell, Angela Bettis, Christina Ricci

she can steal my clothes anytime!

The “Devil Movie” bandwagon probably started in 1997 with The Devil’s Advocate, but the closer we got to the year 2000 the faster Tinseltown executives starting jumping on it. After Stigmata, End of Days and The Ninth Gate came these two religious thrillers - Lost Souls and Bless the Child - each one with their own special take on the imminent end-of-world scenario where, apparently, angels and demons have great supernatural powers but not enough to stop a bullet. Both movies concern the return of a Biblical figure - in the case of Bless the Child it’s Christ and in the case of Lost Souls, the Antichrist - the believability of the scenario in each film is stretched beyond the breaking point, even if you consider yourself a Christian, so it becomes necessary to suspend your disbelief and accept the concepts these films use as a foundation. Once reaching that point, how does each film fare in terms of plot, characterization, acting, suspense, and so forth?

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