The Woman in Black

(2012, Dir. by James Watkins.)

There are two kinds of people that will want to see The Woman in Black. There are those who dig good old Gothic horror, and there are Harry Pottheads.  The two groups aren't always as far a part as you'd think - there's a heavy helping of horror goodness in the couple of Harry Potter flicks I've seen - but I'm definitely not the demographic that's checking out the film due to Daniel Radcliffe taking the lead.  I lean more toward being the demographic who struggles to see the film's title and not sing it to the tune of 'Lady in Red' - but that's a personal problem of mine.

The Woman in Black - a remake of a British TV movie that was based on a novel by Susan Hill - is the latest effort from the reborn Hammer Films, and it's a full-blown return to their roots in horror.  The period ghost story - I don't think the date is given, but I place the film around the 1930s by guessing - features plenty of scenes that feel like they jumped right out of a classic Hammer film - like disagreeable and ominous innkeepers or carriage drivers who won't go to certain remote places at certain dangerous times - and is certainly the most impressive of the new Hammer films in recapturing the spirit of the brand name.  The things I love about Hammer films - minus Lee, Cushing, and an abundance of well-placed corsets - are all over this film from the ominous start.

The film immediately warns us about the title spectre in the opening scene, which shows three young girls who are coerced to turn a tea party into a triple suicide by the woman's appearance. Shortly after, Radcliffe's character - an aspiring lawyer who's tasked to go through a considerable amount of paperwork at an abandoned mansion - arrives in town and heads to the secluded (and we're talking surrounded by marsh that floods the road secluded) home and starts to witness odd things and, eventually, the lady herself.

You probably don't have to guess to hard to figure out the ghastly woman's intentions - hauntings like this generally seem to go back to the same kind of causative circumstances - and Radcliffe's investigation weeds out the truth of who the woman is and why she's angry from beyond the grave relatively early in the film.  But the film maintains tension by visually manipulating the viewer.  There are more shadows in this film than you can possible imagine, and as the woman's appearances begin to increase I found myself increasingly wary of every odd black shape on screen and every movement I thought I saw.  The musical score (which is pretty well done by horror music maestro Marco Beltrami) adds to the unease well at most times, but there were a few moments when musical cues provide a warning to the viewer when perhaps we didn't need one.  The film's sound design also aggressively sells the scares, but has a few too many false stingers (like when birds fly by or a friendly hand surprises a character) for my liking.

The former Mr. Potter is on screen for pretty much the entire film, and does an admirable job of keeping the story afloat.  The character is still struggling with the loss of his own wife and a disconnect with his four-year-old son, which means Radcliffe spends a lot of time sulking and being mopey.  The actor's attempts at these scenes were slightly off-putting - maybe because his physical appearance is just so odd at this stage in his career and it seems like he's trying to model his head after that of a young Patrick Dempsey - but in total the performance gets across what it needs to.  There are a couple of fun additions to supporting cast - primarily Ciaran Hinds and Janet McTeer as the couple who take the lead character in - but the film primarily relies on Radcliffe and he doesn't drop the ball too often.

As the plot moves toward a conclusion, I unfortunately couldn't help feeling that some of the steam that was provide by the early part of the film had been released.  The final act feels more like a modern Insidious/Don't Be Afraid of the Dark type fright fest than a Hammer tale, and the uptempo pace and overbearing imagery as Radcliffe works to vanquish the woman were a little disappointing to me.  An obvious example is the woman in black, who sent chills down my spine when shown at a distance, but who looks like nothing more than another hollywood ghost when her visage is actually revealed.  The film also goes a little bonkers when focusing in on animatronic toys for sections of the film, and I don't think that milking these little critters and their odd faces creates as much unease as director James Watkins wants it to.

The film all boils down to a final confrontation which, to be honest, is a big mess.  After the lead leaves the creepy house for the last time things go straight off the rails, with everything from ghastly voiceovers to abrupt changes in tone and even a groan worthy final "scare" making me shake my head in disappointment.  It's rather unfortunate that the film didn't cut the ending up just a little bit - I believe there's a good ending inside what the film offers - but what we get seems muddled and rushed and just a bit silly.  I look at a film like Sam Raimi's latest, Drag Me To Hell, as a good example of how to pull off an ending of this type, because the ending that's presented here has too many attempts to wow the viewer - each of which takes power from the last.

I want to like The Woman in Black, because I was legitimately enamored with the film for most of the first hour, but it's hard to be as enthusiastic as I'd like to be based on the final act.  I still recommend checking this one out - it's the closest thing to a traditional haunting film or a classic Hammer film I've seen in a long time - but don't be surprised if some of the plot's latter turns leave you scratching your head.  Quibbles aside, I want to see more new horror movies like The Woman in Black, horror movies that offer atmospheric settings and classic chills, and I'm sure I'll gladly give this one another go sometime down the road when I want a dose of old-school horror.

Midnight Movie of the Week #113 - I Married a Monster from Outer Space

Though it's own merits - which I will speak of (OK, type of) in the near future - are more than enough to land I Married A Monster from Outer Space some love from The Mike, it's another factoid about I Married a Monster from Outer Space a special place in my heart.  For it was this film - with its sensational title and classic sci-fi style - that headlined drive-in double features during 1958, paired up with a low budget film that happened to be called The Blob.  A legend was born.

Blobs aside, I Married a Monster from Outer Space is one of the more interesting sci-fi/horror entries of the era.  There are obvious parallels to be drawn with films like Invasion of the Body Snatchers or Invaders From Mars, but the one-to-one nature of this film provides an interesting shift in dynamics from its contemporaries.  As you could probably guess from the title - it's not a euphemism - this time the invasion takes a honeymoon.

Tom Tryon and Gloria Talbott star, the latter as the character who might utter the title in frustration and the former as the "monster".  After a few drinks, Tryon's Bill is stopped by a lifeless body in the middle of the road, which leads to his first encounter with an extraterrestrial that looks kind of like Man-Thing.  This is a small problem, considering it's the night before his wedding, but he shows up just in time to make his bride happy. Proving once again that all a dude has to do for a wedding is SHOW UP.

It doesn't take long for Talbott's Marge to notice odd behavior from her groom.  Early warning signs are pretty obvious to observers - like Bill driving without headlights or forgetting to open his wife's car door - but it's the moments when the couple find themselves alone that really start to worry Marge.  Their honeymoon scene is the film's first major awkward relationship moment, as Marge stares off into the ocean with her chest puffed out - and Bill doesn't really have a clue what to do.  In fact, Bill spends much of the movie making faces that remind me of Steve Martin's psychotic dentist from Little Shop of Horrors.

Much of the film follows the invasion from male to male, as we learn that the creatures that have inhabited Earth men come from a planet where women are no longer available for reproduction.  The alien plan hasn't fully developed yet - the guys from space have no idea how to mate with human women - but they know that getting your foot in the door is half the battle.  (Knowing - of course - is the other half).  The takeover of the town creates the scenes that remind of other invasion films - Marge runs from place to place trying to find help and is generally considered crazy - but also provides some unique moments.  The impact that the invasion has on the local bar is about the only thing that really alerts anyone else to the change in these men - but when the only witnesses are bartenders and floozies, there aren't really any witnesses.

Unlike many sci-fi films of the '50s, this is one of the only religious references in the film.

Talbott and Tryon have to carry most of the film, and the interesting pair of actors do a lot for the film. I'm not too familiar with either of them outside of this film (I just learned that Tryon was a candidate to play Sam Loomis in Psycho, which makes sense based on his looks), but they seem well fitted to this odd sci-fi tale.  Talbott balances between looking like a Hollywood heroine and an everyday housewife of the era, while Tryon fills the awkward creature-in-man-suit role extremely well from a physical standpoint.  There is next to no depth to these characters, but director Gene Fowler, Jr. manages to frame everything really well and there are plenty of shadowy shots that set the mood of despair for the frightened wife.

I Married a Monster from Outer Space has plenty of flaws, starting with a title that implies the viewer shouldn't take the film too seriously.  It's a smarter film than it sounds, but it doesn't reach the chills of Body Snatchers or the paranoia of Invaders from Mars.  Part of me wants to write off the film as a unique failure, but the imagery is fantastic and the concept is uniquely-handled by the director and the leads. It works well enough to keep me coming back to it every once in a while, and that's good enough for me.

FMWL Indie Spotlight - Skew

(2011, Dir. by Seve Schelenz.)

The crowd of folks who believe the ending makes the movie probably won't like Skew too much.  In their minds, this will probably go down the same path as most of the found footage horror movies we've seen in the last several years.  Yes, naysayers - this is one of those movies. 

There are times when the people who love it when everything's wrapped up in a nice neat package are right, and I'll gladly admit that the found footage formula can turn stale pretty quickly.  But I don't think that the movie I'm going to talk about today - Skew - is a misfire that you should avoid.

The set up is simple. Three friends - one whiny dude, one guy who likes to act tough, and one girl (who is obviously sensible and sensitive, since she's a girl in a horror movie) - head out on an excessively long road trip, which will lead to bickering, sexual tension, and odd encounters.  Oh, and - since this is a horror movie - creepy stuff.

That creepy stuff is the key to any one of these films, and Skew doesn't disappoint.  The plot starts slowly, establishing the three characters, but a couple of things become evident quickly.  First of all, people are dying wherever the trio go.  Secondly, the whiny sensitive guy behind the camera is really attached to his camera.  Probably too attached, and his friends have started to notice.  But when we start seeing the things that he sees, we start to understand why he's so attached to that camera.

Though we've seen plenty of found footage films with similar set ups, I'm pretty sure there's not another horror movie that plays with the viewer the same way Skew does.  His perspective, as you might guess from the title, becomes altered - and only the audience can see what he does.  That adds to the tension between his character - who refuses to appear on camera - and the couple he's traveling with.  Some of the acting by the male leads is a little off throughout the conflict, but it wasn't enough to distract me from the odd events that were unfolding onscreen.

Most importantly, the escalating events of Skew kept escalating my interest in the film as it went on.  There was no early peak, nor was there a lull before one big event.  Skew found plenty of unique ways to advance its story, and it's the originality of the script that kept me fascinated in these characters and their journey.  By the time the final half hour rolled around, I found myself doing the things I'd expect to do when I watch an effective chiller.  I was checking the corner of the screen. I was preparing for every time a character changes their view.  Basically, I had all my defense shields active.

And yet, Skew found ways to get to me. And it all led up to a provocative ending that kept me thinking long after the credits rolled.  I won't bother with going into the ending - because a) it'd spoil most of the film, obviously; and b) I'm not sure I understand it well enough to talk about it.  But I'm interested in seeing it happen again - and that's all I can ask for from a film like this.

Skew will certainly gain some detractors because it's not drawn in bright colors and spelled out neatly.  But I think it works, and - if you're someone who wants to see a horror movie with a few chills that keeps your brain running - I say you could do a whole lot worse than Skew.  Kudos to producer/writer/director Seve Schelenz and his whole cast and crew, because they've managed to create something fresh in a subgenre that often loses its way. 

And the best part of all - Skew is on that crazy Instant Netflix thing you all love right freakin' now.  In the meantime, you can check out the trailer on YouTube - but you're better off skipping the trailer and just seeing it fresh - read as: no spoilers! - like I did.  Take a chance on it. Skew just might change your perspective.

Midnight Movie of the Week #112 - From Dusk Till Dawn

The majority of discussions about From Dusk Till Dawn probably start with what can only be described as "the shift".  The shift occurs about half way through the film, and is primarily attributed to the fact that both director Robert Rodriguez and director Quentin Tarantino had their hands all over the production.  Each of the dudes only had two films under their belt at the time, but their trademarks (like Rodriguez' use of Mexicans and Tarantino's foot worship) are evident throughout the film - both before and after the shift.

The shift I keep referring to is that moment when the movie goes from what it is to what it wants to be.  A lot of people have speculated that Tarantino oversaw the first half of the film - which resembles his previous two "guys in suits commit crimes" films of the early '90s - and Rodriguez took over for the blood-soaked, up-tempo second half of the film, in which (I suppose I should say "spoiler alert", but 16 years have passed, dudes) the whole movie becomes a vampire infested siege pictures.  (And you all know The Mike LOVES siege movies.  Seriously, there's nothing better than a good "hanker down and take on waves of bad muddafuggahs" flick.)  I'm not sure how much I believe that the shift was orchestrated in that manner - my money's on the two dudes working together throughout the picture - but it's an interesting way to look at what some could argue is actually an anthology film.

The bigger thing to consider about the shift is how it actually works.  A vocal section of those who talk about the shift just hate the heck out of the split.  They say the movie was so good for the first half and not as interesting in the second.  Or, they say that the second half was so cool and gory and fun, and the first half took to long to get there.  There are people who don't like the film for other reasons - maybe some hate Juliette Lewis as much as I do, maybe some are mad the vampires don't sparkle, maybe there are even some who can't get over how creepy the vampire version of Quentin Tarantino looks - but I choose to ignore them.  Because my theory is that everything boils down to the shift.

Did I mention that the post-shift segment of the film occurs here?

I gotta admit that, even though the second half has water pistols filled with holy water and crossbows and George Clooney making a stakehammer (it's like a jackhammer with a stake on it, which is AWESOME), I'm slightly partial to the pre-shift segment of the film.  A lot of that is due to the awesome opening sequence, which establishes the criminal side of Clooney and Tarantino's characters while pitting them against a Texas Ranger and a liquor store clerk who is played fantastically by a young John Hawkes, who's awesome in a lot of things.  (Random tangent: The ranger, played by Michael Parks, dies in this scene - but goes on to appear in two more Tarantino/Rodriguez films. The Tarantino 'verse is one crazy, scary, interconnected logjam of dead people.)  It's one of the better opening scenes on film in my book, and it always has me ready for From Dusk Till Dawn's wild ride as soon as the first curse word is uttered and the first drops of blood are splattered.

BTW, remember that time when Clooney was just "That guy from ER"?  Yeah, me too.  Doesn't that seem weird in retrospect?  The thing is, I have some pretty vivid memories of it being weird when I saw Clooney - who I'd known as a dude on some snooty drama I'd never watch - in From Dusk Till Dawn in 1996.  From that opening scene through the final shots, Clooney is the alpha male of the movie, complete with gigantic full-arm tribal tattoo and suit jacket with undershirt and greasy hair.  I do recall this being one of those moments when I thought there might be something more to this actor, and I think it's safe to say he's proved himself a few times since.  The rest of the lead cast has mixed results - Harvey Keitel doesn't get enough good material, but plays the calm character well, Tarantino's better off on the other side of the camera, and Juliette Lewis is still the most annoying thing EVER - but the supporting cast provides a lot of help, with fun turns by genre favorites like Danny Trejo, Cheech Marin, Tom Savini and "The Hammer" Fred Williamson (who gives my favorite performance in the film).  Oh yeah, and Salma Hayak's here too (by my count, at least 6 members of the cast have been nominated for Oscars!), but I won't explain why. I'll let a picture do the talking.  You're welcome.

(BTW, despite her picture on the back of Mill Creeks' budget blu-ray of the film, Monica Bellucci is NOT in this film.  Mill Creek fail.)

I think that a lot of people expect more than they get from From Dusk Till Dawn, but I've always dug the film as a whole, the shift and all.  It's clear that Tarantino and Rodriguez are having fun, and there's a visible balance between their styles.  The film isn't allowed to turn into a 150 minute epic with Rodriguez at the helm, and the dialogue has a fantastic punch due to Tarantino's own skills.  The script also throws in a few fun twists on vampire lore, and the comments on vampire cinema is a small gift to horror fans in lieu of many scares.  Gore is also used as a substitute for chills, but there's a playful nature to it - particularly when The Hammer gets to use his mitts on some vampire strippers and an oversized Mexican bloodsucker.

I think it could have been a great crime movie or a decent vampire movie.  Some people think it could have been a action-packed vampire movie but was a boring crime movie.  Some people think other things too.  Dramatic shifts in tone do that to people.  But, for me, it all boils down to From Dusk Till Dawn being a blast to watch.  I can deal with the shift when everything else in the film is so much fun.  Thanks to all the talented folks involved (not to mention a fantastic soundtrack), From Dusk Till Dawn and I always get along - even if it is a little bipolar.

Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance

(2012, Dir. by Neveldine/Taylor.)

In a sequel almost nobody - save Nic Cage and some dudes at Marvel who like money - wanted, Johnny Blaze returns to the big screen for another fiery ride.  This time it's called Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance, and it's a sequel that wants nothing to do with its big budget predecessor.  It brings back Cage - mostly because Cage is the biggest Ghost Rider fan alive AND likes money because he has to pay for his burial pyramid - but cuts all other ties to Mark Steven Johnson's bland film.

This time the skullfire-on-wheels action is framed by the duo of Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor, who previously brought their hyperactive flair to the Crank films and the muddled, yet strangely captivating Gamer (don't hate, I dig it!).   The filmmakers left their mark on those films by featuring "balls-to-the-wall" action that feature no restraint, which made nudity, blood, random psychedelic cutscenes, and other acts of depravity the norm in their worlds.  A lot of people didn't like that about them, but I thought it was a blast - their films are basically video games that were filmed instead of rendered - which makes it slightly frustrating when you realize that Ghost Rider 2 has been edited down for a PG-13 rating.

Without the ability to go all the way, Neveldine/Taylor's film feels a little neutered.  It's particularly baffling too, as this is the second film released under the Marvel Knights banner that previously accompanied the uberviolent, R-rated Punisher: War Zone - a film that featured more arterial spray than most horror movies made in the new millennium.  This Marvel Knights production features a lot more dark moments than the first film did, but there are moments when the film cuts away from what could have been a brutal moment.  Perhaps the studio was worried that the first film pandered to children - which is a strange truth despite the devil-based plot - but I don't think this sequel will sell as well to the young crowd.

There's certainly more grit to this film, as the Rider looks a bit darker and a lot less cartoon-y than he did in the 2007 film.  The action takes on a supernatural tone again - especially when that Ciaran Hinds dude turns one of the bad guys into a creepy undead thing who's supposed to find a kid that might become the Antichrist - and there's plenty of night time battling with the flaming headed antihero doing his thing.  Oh yeah, and you get to see Ghost Rider urinating a stream of flame - if you're in to that kind of thing.

If there's a reason to see Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance, it's certainly the star.  A lot of people are down on the overdramatic Mr. Cage, but he's pretty much my favorite thing Hollywood could do to any movie.  Heck, I once kind of defended that piece of excrement Wicker Man remake because of Cage's overacting.  Truthfully, I was a little disappointed by the lack of Cage Rage in this film.  There was one glorious mid-film scene that allowed Cage to go fully crazy, but there weren't enough moments like it.  In fact, I kinda thought the film was a little backward - the early part of the film featured a lot of Rider and not enough Cage, while the final scenes feature a ton of subdued Cage and not enough Rider.

With the directors' hands tied and Cage somewhat restrained, the whole movie just seems kinda pointless.  It was a fun ride - I'll watch it again before I watch the first Ghost Rider film again - but it doesn't have much going for it outside of the good-looking Eastern European setting and a decent cast (Idris Elba is a fun addition in a pivotal side role, and Violante Placido is nice to look at).  I'm not sure if it will please fans of the comic - I know next to nothing about Ghost Rider, except that Cage loves him - but it's little more than a passable diversion in what is generally blockbuster cinema's offseason.  You shouldn't waste your money on a 3D ticket price, but if you're interested you might have fun with the film as a rental if you really dig Cage Rage.  Even then, you're probably better off watching the more violent and more ballistic Drive Angry anyway.

Supremely Cheesy Cinema, Vol. 10: Don't Open Till Christmas

There are a lot of horror movies in which the killer disguises themselves as (or, in the case of Bill Goldberg, actually IS!) Santa Claus.  But, as far as I can tell, Don't Open Till Christmas is the one and only '80s slasher film that revolves around a killer who targets people who are dressed as St. Nick.  Plus, the movie's set in London, which immediately makes me think of the awesome Kinks song....

...which is, for lack of a less redundant word, awesome.

Directed by and starring Edmund Purdom, the British dude who apparently was a real actor but who we horror fans all know and love from Pieces, Don't Open Till Christmas is a unique slasher treat that stays away from the standard cliches most people would associate with the subgenre.  There are no campers or even teenagers, and the main "young" characters seem more like something out of a late Hammer Film (like Dracula A.D. 1972) than a Friday the 13th film - though I'm probably being racist by saying that just because they're British folk.  Meanwhile Purdom - who is pretty much the William Regal of '80s horror cinema (this comment is also probably racist, but hey, we won the war, we can say mean stuff about Brits!) - headlines the police investigation, and a bunch of Santas get offed in interesting ways.

From the start you kind of get the feeling that Don't Open Till Christmas might have some issues, particularly when a title card during the opening credits says that "Additional Scenes Were Written & Directed By Al McGoohan".  No disrespect to Mr. McGoohan is intended, but the warning flag goes up pretty quickly when you get the feeling that a movie has been through rewrites and reshoots.  There are some rather abrupt shifts and transitions during the film, which bounces from plot point to random Santa killing to plot point many times, but everything is framed well with a charming '80s synthetic soundtrack and fun actors like Purdom and Mark Jones getting to Pleasence (Yes, I'm using Donald's last name as a verb) it up a bit.  Also sufficiently hammy is Alan Lake as the ominous reporter on the case, whose performance is even creepier when you learn that the actor, who was terminally ill with a brain tumor, killed himself a couple of months before the film's release.

Amidst all the odd plot twists and strange settings for kills - a mid film "dungeon" sequence is particularly macabre - are some excellent visuals and a fantastic look at the masked face of our killer.  Purdom isn't the only thing that ties the film to Pieces, nor is the fact that this film's producers also worked on that slasher film.  Like that cheesy slasher, Don't Open Till Christmas also ties the killer's motives into a traumatic childhood event, which is fleshed out in a final act twist that wraps up things pretty nicely.  Unfortunately, the killer doesn't keep his creepy mask throughout the whole film - the tension takes a hit when the identity of the killer is revealed rather early, though it's pretty easy to guess - but the unhinged actor keeps the film going during the final act despite this.

Though it feels like there are two films going on at once - one featuring the slashing of Father Christmas in public and bizarre locales, one featuring the mystery behind the killer - there's a ridiculous charm to this unpredictable slasher.  After all, any film which randomly features a glitter haired, '80s-styled, Caroline Munro showing up to sing and dance is well worth my time, and probably yours too.  This isn't quite like Pieces - there's a little more sense to the plot and a little less overacting (Nothing can reach the overacting heights of the infamous Bastard scene) - but it's sure to please fans of '80s flavored sleaze regardless.

Then again, there is one question that might dominate your mind as Don't Open Till Christmas powers through its 86 minutes.  We know a) that a killer is on the loose; b) that the killer is public knowledge and well-covered in the press; and c) that the killer kills people who dress as Santa.  So...even though it's days till Christmas (you didn't really think this movie was set in June, did you?) - WHY DOESN'T ANYONE STOP DRESSING UP AS SANTA CLAUS?  Nude models, drunks, carnival workers - these obviously aren't the smartest people in the UK (I'm sure that honor is reserved for my British Midnight Warriors, naturally) - all fall victim for simple reasons: because they dress as Santa.  Which makes this basically the only slasher movie ever where running around naked and having sex while drinking and doing drugs would INCREASE your chances of survival.  

So yeah, that question still bugs me, but hey - it wouldn't be supremely cheesy and awesome without a little nonsense.  So check out Don't Open Till Christmas, and keep the Santa suit in the closet. It's for your own good.

Midnight Movie of the Week #111 - The Lost Boys

Sometimes in life, you have to grow up and be mature about things.  For me, tonight is one of those moments.  Because, despite all of the will in my body pushing me toward a certain topic, I've decided that I won't only talk about Tim Cappello, the oily sax man, while talking about The Lost Boys.  It's tough.  When you've got something as Earth-shattering, mind-numbingly-awesome, and omnipresently-powerful as the oily sax man in your movie, it's hard for people to not only talk about it.  Heck, sometimes I forget what The Lost Boys is actually about.  I just know it's the movie with the oily sax man. I mean, seriously, just look at him.

Now look at him again.

Do you see what I mean?  No? OK, let's go to the tape.  SEE???

OK, now that that's out of my system (Wait....I STILL BELIEVE!!!!!  OK, now it's out of my system), let's talk about the rest of The Lost Boys, which is probably the most treasured piece of '80s pop culture mixed with horror known to man.  The teen-based vampire tale - which does not, thankfully, feature sparkling or emo depressed girls - is one of those movies that my entire generation just knows.  Like, if The Lost Boys stopped over and said it needed to borrow a cup of sugar, every dude or dudette aged 25-35 would invite it in and shoot the breeze for hours before sending it home with a freshly baked batch of snickerdoodles AND a cup of sugar.

Produced by Richard Donner and directed by Joel Schumacher - who is probably the most unfairly hated director of all-time, but that's a different story for another day (HINT: Burton's Batman movies sucked too!) - The Lost Boys takes us into the awesome world of Santa Carla, California, which local graffiti-ists have dubbed "The Murder Capitol of the World".  When we arrive, we learn that the town is full of Oceanside fun that includes carnivals, wicked neon video stores, and - of course - a rocking saxophone man.  But, as we learn immediately, there's also something awful in town.

Enter "The Frog Brothers", played by Jamison Newlander and the great Corey Feldman, who warn young Sam - played by the other Corey, Corey Haim - about the vampires that plague the town.  It's kind of a weird idea - especially when you realize that the Frogs don't seem to know anything about the identity of the vampires, who flaunt themselves pretty blatantly to my eyes - but I'm willing to give these pre-teen vampire hunters the benefit of the doubt.  After all, one might just think the group of vamps - led by future TV super-icon Keifer Sutherland - is a bunch of kids dressed in ridiculous clothes.

Thankfully we have Sam's older brother, Michael (Jason Patric, son of The Exorcist's Jason Miller!), a moody teenager who is drawn to a girl (Jami Gertz, who was what we call "80s hot") who is drawn to the four ridiculously clothed dudes, who happen to be vampires.  The result is a battle between those who want to hold on to their humanity and those who do not; a battle that plays off of vampire lore well throughout the film.

It's not entirely a young person's movie, however, with a budding romance between the local video store owner played by Edward Herrmann and Sam & Mike's mother played by Dianne Wiest.  There's also the boys' grandpa, played by Barnard Hughes, who is perhaps my favorite thing about the film.  Grandpa's final line in the film is one of the greatest things ever said in a horror film, a final line that I won't dare spoil for the ignorant or deaf fools who haven't yet truly experienced The Lost Boys.

Then again, if you haven't experienced The Lost Boys yet, you may be completely hopeless.  I had a video store employee tell me recently that he hates any movie made before 1990, which probably means he has no soul.  And if you're old enough to know The Lost Boys and haven't experienced it yet....well, I apologize for the abuse you've endured.

I don't need to sit here and talk about The Lost Boys.  As hair rockers Extreme would say, The Lost Boys is worth more than words.  But I couldn't keep this series of movies I love going on and on and on and not end up talking about just how cool The Lost Boys is.  Not was, IS. Those poor teenagers today have no idea what they're missing when they look at the neutered vampire films of this generation.  There truly is nothing - no film, no television show, no kids playing in their backyards - that is quite like The Lost Boys, a one-of-a-kind piece of horror history that should never be ignored by anyone.  Ever.

I have to add one serious thing, since I didn't say anything serious (or maybe I did?) during this whole rant about how awesome The Lost Boys is.  I badly...and I mean BADLY...want to visit the video store Ed Herrmann runs in this flick.  Seriously, it's beautiful.  Those big box Warner Brothers VHS tapes all over the walls, the wall of TVs, the weird neon TV shapes hanging all over, even the fact that the classics and adult films are randomly on the same wall....I just love all of it.  If I had a time machine, I would be in this store first.  Then maybe I'd hit up The Ice Bowl and after that meet Kim Novak on the set of Vertigo.  But first: the video store from The Lost Boys.  Yup.