One of my most common complaints with "retro" genre films - films like Grindhouse and Machete and dozens of low budget imitators - is that the pace is updated for modern audiences. Of course, there's an audience for fast-paced splatterfests out there, but I'm always appreciative of the filmmakers who pay homage to the past without forgetting that most genre films from the '70s and '80s didn't move at breakneck speeds.
One example of this is The Lashman, Cameron McCasland's debut slasher throwback in which some friends head off for a weekend at a cabin only to find that the angry spirit of a lash-wielding fella from the 1800s is at work in the woods. It's a simple kind of horror film - five friends, no civilization, a deadly legend come to life - but it's also an authentic reminder of the things we love about this kind of film.
(Now that I think about it, should I be dropping the s and just calling this a "lasher film"? I do love being accurate, and it would probably be a great poster quote if I said it's "The first great Lasher film!", but that's just too confusing for me. Excuse me if I continue to say "slasher" despite the film's lashing nature.)
The first thing you'll notice about McCasland's film is probably that it looks like something you'd find on a VHS tape in the 1980s. For the most part, the clothes, cars and settings look like something out of Just Before Dawn or The Burning. The film's sound design is also intentionally low-tech, and younger viewers might not understand that this is how some movies used to sound when they were made on the cheap. It's obviously a zero budget film, but the attention to detail in making the film feel dated is one of the things that made me interested in The Lashman from the opening scenes.
The characters are not original for a slasher movie - sensitive guy (David Vaughn), nice girl (Stacey Dixon), lustful couple who make immoral decisions (Jeremy Jones & Kaylee Williams), nice girl's brother who doesn't fit in (Shawn C. Phillips)- but the actors all seem to know what their place is in the script and fit it well. Jones is especially effective as the aggressive member of the group who drinks too much and thinks with the wrong head, while Vaughn, Phillips, and Dixon have no problems fitting into the film. Williams' character is probably the most interesting of the bunch because she's written as something of a wild-card who brings sexual tension to the group. The character is a nice addition to the otherwise paint-by-numbers set up, but none of the actors or characters is bound to be the most memorable thing about the film.
I worry that many people may find The Lashman's pace to be concerning -
after the opening sequence establishes the villain it's a long stretch of time before blood flies again - but the slow build to madness is what won me over about this film. Patience pays off for McCasland, because the focus on these characters, the story of the Lashman, and the building tension in both their relationships and the setting is what makes The Lashman feel more like those early '80s slasher films that many of us love despite their flaws. Have you seen these tricks before? Probably. Do they still make for a great party horror flick? Absolutely.
Some of the film's charm is lost in the final act, as the showdown between the killer and his victims is brief and builds to an abrupt finale. There might have been some benefit to spreading out the kills a little more in the short film - which runs only 81 minutes with end credits - but the action is still entertaining and the film ends at a natural stopping point - which, of course, leaves the possibility of a sequel.
The Lashman probably isn't for everyone, but horror lovers who remember the VHS era fondly will surely admire it for what it is. Sure, none of the actors are going to win major awards and the script is simple and it's not the bloodiest thing you'll find and it's just simply not perfect. But I haven't seen a tribute to slasher cinema that feels as genuine as The Lashman does, and that alone should make it worth a viewing.
The Lashman will premiere this Saturday night at 7:00 pm at the Full Moon Horror Film Festival in Nashville, and if you're interested in keeping up with it you can check out the film's Facebook and Twitter pages to see when it'll be playing in your neck of the woods. Until then, enjoy the trailer below.
I've known of Zach Shildwachter for a while on this here internet thing, and I can say in all certainty that he is one sick monkey - in the best possible way. I probably could have told you that yesterday - before I watched his directorial debut, a seven minute short film called Thrill Kill that might just kick you in the teeth. Thankfully for lovers of bloody, pulpy, grindhouse goodness - Thrill Kill proves my point about its creator.
This little piece of foul mouthed - the f-word is said more than all other words combined, I think - and blood stained - complete with some gooey practical effects by the writer/director himself - cinema has a lot of good stuff going on for fans of old-school sleaze. The short plot has some taboo twists that might remind the viewer of bizarre drive-in flicks of the 1970s, while a love for modern gore shines through as the film tortures its two main characters, who are played with perfect grit by stars J Buckner and Agata Stasiak. At the center of it all is one gorgeous automobile, a 1977 Ford Mustang that drives this macabre little adventure to its brisk conclusion.
To give you plot details would be a disservice to the short film, so I'm going to just skip ahead to the good part. Below is a link to the film itself, released today by Cleveland based production company The Studio on Mars. Fans of bloody cinema, fast-paced carnage, and twisted humor - especially fans of twisted humor - should definitely click below and get their own taste of what Zach Shildwachter and company have to offer. It's the kind of NSFW story that only the most wonderfully disgusting people could put together, which means it's also a raw grindhouse treat for the uninhibited viewer.
If you ever wondered what The Defiant Ones would look like with beautiful women in the Tony Curtis and Sidney Poitier roles - or if you're younger and wondered the same thing about Stephen Baldwin and Larry Fishburne in Fled - then you're looking for Black Mama, White Mama. Produced in 1973 by Filipino director Eddie Romero, the film is a chance for Pam Grier - the Queen of Grindhouse herself - and blonde bombshell Margaret Markov to make the most out of a ridiculous premise and turn their island upside down.
Markov plays Karen, a revolutionary leader who's imprisoned alongside Grier's Lee, a prostitute, in a seedy woman's prison where the guards are a bit too frisky and shower time is excessively playful. The girls don't see eye to eye - Lee won't submit to the lusting head guard and Karen will - which leads to them being chained together just before they escape from work duty. Unable to shake free from one another, Karen and Lee struggle to survive while battling to meet their own needs.
If it all sounds kind of childish, that's because it is. This was a time when the Philippines became a go-to place for genre film producers, a place where rules didn't exist and labor costs were pretty darn low. As such, local "talents" fill up much of the cast and crew, and the lack of a Hollywood polish will put the movie close to "so bad it's good" territory for some viewers. Some of the actors, most notably a rotund villain who likes to torture nude women, seem like they were destined for Mystery Science Theater 3000 fame. But, thankfully, the talented cast shines brighter than the flaws of the low budget deserve.
Grier is a known quantity, though it's important to note that this film was produced just before her star-making role in Coffy, which was released later in the same year. We don't get much of the Grier swagger that we've come to love in her more famous blaxploitation films here, but her strong presence still radiates, especially when the action picks up. It's not the Grier I expected, but it's easy to see what she would become and how her personality earned her a place in Hollywood.
Markov is a less known name, but her starring turn as Karen fits perfectly alongside Grier. She looks the part of a California beach bunny, but she manages to show some attitude of her own and provide a bit of humor alongside Grier. Sequences like the one in which the duo disguise themselves as nuns pop off of the screen, primarily thanks to the chemistry these two share with each other. Markov would star in a couple more grindhouse films in the following year, but after marrying a producer she - sadly for us - retired from acting. To be honest, Markov probably steals more scenes in this film than Grier does. And that's an impressive feat.
As if the two stars weren't enough, Romero also enlisted the services of horror favorite Sid Haig to spice up the picture. Haig co-stars as a seedy fella who is hired to track the escaped women, and who does so while hooking up with women, torturing the police on the case, and sporting a pretty fantastic tropical shirt. Haig's performance is never quite sinister, but his manic energy gives the film a boost of unpredictability that is more than welcome. Also adding a bit of odd fun to the film is Lynn Borden as the lesbian prison guard who creates the wedge between Lee and Karen, and there's a part of me that's sad that Haig and Borden don't spend more time in this flick.
Black Mama, White Mama is nothing close to high art, but it's a surprising twist on a fun premise that never settles for a dull moment. It actually probably belongs on the high end of the Filipino genre cinema spectrum - see Machete Maidens Unleashed for more on that weird subgenre - and it's a chance for a few powerful actors to showcase their talents in unique ways. If you like trashy exploitation cinema, you'll definitely have a smile on your face by the time Black Mama, White Mama's final shootout rolls around.
The title pretty much sums up this American sleaze picture with a decidedly Italian feel. A madman wanders the streets of New York killing young women who work (and "give a little extra") in massage parlors. This allows for victims in various states of undress, lots of fake blood, and two determined cops on the killer's trail.
If there's anything spectacular about Massage Parlor Murders, it's the film's willingness to be completely bizarre. The director lingers on odd sequences like a massage parlor ballet number and a wonderful rant by The 'Burbs co-star Brother Theodore as a fanatical suspect, which leaves the film with a few moments that stand out as unique, if not ambitious.
Indeed, there's little more to the film than its sleazy premise and a whole lot of goofy non-stop action. The film often plays like it was written one scene at a time - and the abrasive and constantly changing musical score makes the film feel more disjointed - but this incompetent style probably makes it more appealing to sleaze fans. If the title tickles your fancy (and if you don't expect art) then Massage Parlor Murders should work as a grindhouse diversion.
Items of Note: Plenty of topless and dead women. Exposition scene that teaches about the devious massage parlor girl and her money grabbing ways. extended nude pool party. Car chase with cop wearing only a towel. Bizarre massage parlor girl who shows her pleasure by licking her lips in the most awkward way possible. Plot twist that matches up directly with a far more famous (and more accomplished) cops and killer film that came about 20 years later. Abrupt and ridiculous finale. Little to no actual tension.
Also of Note: Massage Parlor Murders is new to blu-ray/DVD combo pack thanks to the folks at Vinegar Syndrome, who have restored the film very well and put together a nice (and reasonably priced) package. The picture quality isn't really worthy of the blu-ray treatment, but I don't imagine that the movie needs to look any better than it does here. It's nice to have the rare movie (it has 9 ratings on IMDB!) back in circulation, even if it's just an ordinary grindhouse film.
Kind-of genre icon Michael Biehn (it's hard to argue against the Terminator/Aliens/Abyss trifecta) stars in his own directorial debut as a reclusive gruff guy who becomes the center of a survival picture. A bad girl (Jennifer Blanc, Biehn's real world wife) evades the men who just killed her friend (horror fave Danielle Harris) and holes up with the resourceful character in an attempt to fend off the killers.
Biehn keeps the whole thing moving at a quick pace, with well-placed flashbacks to show Blanc and Harris' plight. The goal was obviously to remind us of grindhouse thrillers of the past, and The Victim does a pretty good job of getting the tone right as it focuses on sex and violence. Biehn is excellent in the lead, and the acting is sufficient across the board.
There are a lot of positives, but the picture never really has a spectacular moment and the villains are one-note and dull. An abrupt conclusion implies a neat twist but doesn't close anything, leaving the small film feeling like a good attempt, but not a total success toward its psychosexual goals.
Items of Note: Two sex-related deaths. One extended sex scene between real-life couple. Plenty of flashbacks of Harris strutting her bad girl stuff. Three deaths. Bizarre picture credits that include most of the crew. Biehn starring as Kyle, which just makes me think of Kyle Reese from Terminator. Se7en mimicking. One impressive mustache.
Dust Up - which wants to be a grindhouse western comedy, I think - is a bizarre little movie that seems like a Troma film on half the budget and half the sleaze. With an eye patch laden hero, a kinda TV star in the cast - Buffy the Vampire Slayer's Amber Benson - and an inordinate amount of random sexual deviance, Dust Up certainly makes an impression in its own way.
Set in the modern day southwestern United States, the film is plotted like most westerns of a time gone by. A loner with a violent past (and, as mentioned, an eyepatch) lives alone and only interacts with his Native American friend (in this case, a guy who's pretending to be a Native American), until he becomes caught up in a battle between a down on her luck mother (Benson) and a ruthless criminal. That criminal is the film's biggest departure from the norm for classic westerns, presented as a ruthless drug dealer with a henchman who pretends to be a lizard - and is thus called "Mr. Lizard".
You can tell that this is not going to be your grandfather's western from that explanation, but you really can't understand how true that is yet. It isn't long into the film before things kind of degenerate into a mishmash of devious acts that cover all kinds of bases. At the forefront of this cluster of cheesy sleaze is a strong dose of random sexual humor, as the film has more references to hand job techniques and more attempted male-on-male rapes than almost anything I've ever seen. (In fact, I kind of hope it's more than anything I've ever seen, for my own sanity.) Everything is done with a tongue in cheek, I guess, and there's nothing overly malicious about the film's sexual quotient - nor does the film really ever reveal anything visually that's too inappropriate - it's just really bizarre for the sake of bizarreness.
When you get past some of the more uncomfortable humor that misses the mark - most of which centers on the drug dealer aspect of the story, there's a lot of fun to be had with the hero, sidekick, and mother characters who are fighting to survive here. The awkward tone of their relationships reminds a little of quirky indie films like those of Wes Anderson or the like, and each of the actors seem to be having fun with the roles. Aaron Gaffey's performance as the one-eyed veteran is probably the film's most rewarding, as he plays the role with a straight face and seems at home in Dust Up's madcap universe. Benson gets star billing and - as she was on Buffy in many crucial moments - is certainly the heart of the picture. It's just that - as was the case on Buffy in other crucial moments - she's not necessarily given a lot to do at times.
When you put all the pieces together, Dust Up is kind of just there. It's not grindhouse enough for that crowd, nor is it accessible enough for mainstream crowds. It's definitely unique and there are some really fun moments, but it seemed like there were just as many moments that came off as too forced or too brazen or - worst of all - too pointless. I can't bring myself to call it a failure - it's too unique and too good-hearted at times to be a waste of time - but I also don't think you should go out of your way for this one. It probably would play best for fans of wacky westerns with a devious streak - I'm just not sure that crowd is really out there looking for this flick.
The three women who are profiled in Screaming in High Heels - Brinke Stevens, Linnea Quigley, and Michelle Bauer - certainly have a special place in the history of smutty b-cinema. The majority of their films - things like Nightmare Sisters, Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers, and Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama - are not what I was expecting when I became a horror fan after watching things like The Phantom of the Opera, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and The Blob. So I've always found their slice of the horror pie - the one filled with direct-to-VHS titles that generally offered great nudity and terrible storytelling - to be a strange one.
For those who weren't around in the '80s, Screaming in High Heels documents who these women are and how they got here, but it also spends much of its time (perhaps too much) trying to justify why these movies were necessary and how these movies were so great. There's an incredible bias on display, as the few people interviewed are directors and actors who worked on the films headlined by the three women, and some of these men seem a little too excited about their work. There's a loving tone, to be sure, but the amount of superlatives thrown around makes it really hard to really believe that these guys are offering a fair assessment of a subgenre they made a living in.
(I do not intend to debate whether or not these men are right or wrong about the value of their films. Where there's a niche, there's value in a product. My thoughts on these films - most of which I am not acquainted with - is a different story for a different day.)
The heart of this documentary - as the title suggests - is the three women who headlined this era. Each of the actresses appears and is frank and candid about their experiences, for the most part. (Though, I did think it was a little weird when Brinke Stevens explained how "she studied SCIENCE" and she came to LA "to get a job IN SCIENCE" like she was a bad sci-fi character. An area of specialty might have made her story more palpable.) Bauer, who has distanced herself from acting more than the others, is the most down to Earth and accessible of the the three queens, while Quigley and Stevens seem to still fit perfectly with the image they represented in their heyday. In each case, it's easy to see the intrigue each actress offered to their films (which is not just their willingness to get naked, of course).
The trouble with Screaming in High Heels, on the whole, is that there's just not a lot of intrigue outside of a few tidbits in interviews that perk your ears. Unlike more accomplished genre docs - like the amazing Corman's World, which I covered earlier this year - the scope of this film is very limited. We get the opinions of the three stars and a half dozen folks who worked with them - and that's it. I suppose the argument could be made that this doc, like the film's its talking about, should be held to a much lesser standard than more financially sound productions, but it still feels like there's a lack of outside perspective. Instead of fans and critics talking about these actresses and filmmakers, we get these actresses and filmmakers talking about fans and critics. There's talk about families of the involved, but no actual talk with the families of those involved. Things like this hurt my interest in the film, and left me a little bored at times.
If you don't know much about these women and these films, and want to learn what they were about in their own words, Screaming in High Heels should interest you. Just be prepared for a rather slight and one-sided look at these films. The low retail price of the disc compared to other releases seems to reflect the short (it's barely an hour long) and sweet approach to the production. On the other hand, fans of these films and stars probably aren't going to learn a lot from Screaming in High Heels. To me it feels more like a DVD extra than a full length documentary, because it doesn't dig deep enough to really cover a wide berth of topics regarding this movement in genre film.
Screaming in High Heels will be out on DVD on August 28th, and is worth at least a rental to those interested in learning about the best of '80s sleaze scream queens. Horror buffs will probably enjoy the interviews, but might feel like they already know a lot of what's being said. Still, this one's probably worth a rental.
One of the great things about horror movies - and I'm trying to say this seriously - is that they're so darn repetitive. I'm not saying remakes and sequels and not being original are good things in and of themselves. What I am saying is that a great terror comes in many shapes and sizes. Something that scared us as a child can still scare us as an adult - but the way it scares us or the thing about it that scares us or the intensity of the scare changes with time. And the fact of the matter is that horror movies have been asking us to be afraid of the same things for decades, they just do it in different ways.
So, when the friends of FMWL over at Pussy Goes Grrr - a one of a kind blog that often brings the goods - introduced me to their "Juxtaposition Blogathon" (and after I looked up juxtaposition at dictionary.com to make sure I didn't say something dumb), I started thinking about just how often some of the horror movies we see these days share traits with horror movies that have come before them. And how, a lot of the time, the older horror movies seem to have fallen by the wayside. The result? Five unique "Double Feature" pairings that just might rock an evening in your future.
Despite the absence of a traditional devil, the hooks that bring the films together include big ol' houses filled with Satanists, some moon mumbo jumbo, and a fresh faced young girl (Jocelin Donahue in the latter, Nike Arrighi in the former) who is the key to completing some kind of ceremony. A lot of people say that men have advantages over women in this world, and if it's true then it certainly seems that not being the target of a Satanist cult is one of the more posh advantages us dudes have. Sorry ladies.
The biggest difference between the films - besides the more than forty years that passed between them - is that one offers a tall veteran actor (Christopher Lee) as a powerhouse hero, while the other offers a tall veteran actor (Tom Noonan) as a subdued catalyst of evil. But hey, I still love both films to death - and anyone looking for a couple of cult-based chillers could do worse than starting with these two.
Feast & The Being
I'm not sure if a lot of other people do - I rarely hear anyone talking about it - but I love the heck out of Feast. It's a totally ridiculous and over the top gorefest that normally wouldn't even cause me to look twice, but there's something about it that just stops me every time. It doesn't subscribe to any kind of reason, Hollywood expectations are certainly thrown out with the bath water, and it's the rare film where you really feel like any of the characters could die...except you really don't, because there's one girl who's way too hot and way to prominent in the film to die. Pretty sure there's a graph out there that proves being high on those scales is the best way to survive a splatter flick. If not, there should be.
It should be noted that Feast does slightly break from this with the character played by my favorite Twitter Crush, Jenny Wade. I'll let you see what I mean in the flick.
Though Feast is pretty one of a kind in its madcap lunacy, its mixture of slimy creatures and and off the beaten path setting makes me want to pair it up with another splattery flick, the barely known 1983 flick The Being. Despite the presence of some known names - Martin Landau and Jose Ferrer show up - this small town Idaho based tale of toxic mutation is pretty forgotten these days. Which is totally sad when you consider the fact that bearded/flannel shirted producer William Osco takes center stage while using the alias Rexx Coltrane. He's worth the price of admission alone.
Neither of these films will really scare you too much - though there's a fantastic scene with a toddler, and Easter Egg Hunt, and a mutant in The Being - so get ready for plenty of monster based silliness, some horrible acting, and a whole lot of splatter. If you're prepping for a gore-based cheese movie night, these two should bring the thunder.
Rogue & Alligator
Yes, I realize that Rogue is a movie about a crocodile and Alligator is (obviously) a movie about an alligator. Go ahead and tell me the difference, I'm gonna forget it soon (again) anyways. The point is that these two fellas have big chompers, are greenish, and can take a man down faster than he can say "Hey, what's the difference between an alligator and a crocodile?" So you gotta pay respect.
Greg McLean's Rogue seems to teeter between getting more or less respect (based on who you talk to) than his debut feature Wolf Creek. That's more of a statement about just how divisive that film is (I dug it, if anyone cares), but Rogue suffers from no such schism. This is a very competent and very consistent thriller that pits man against nature, and the director does a great job of pitting folks who didn't plan on an adventure against the toothed killer.
Someone else who didn't expect to face off with a reptilian killer is the always fantastic Robert Forster, who stars in Alligator as a detective who investigates the possibility that a 36 foot gator lives in Chicago's sewers. Since the streets of Chicago don't provide as much watery goodness as the Australian outback, Alligator is a more talkative film than Rogue, complete with a script from indie darling & Piranha/The Howling scribe John Sayles. But both movies provide maximum teeth gnashing, and they should be good friends despite their killers' scientific differences.
Snakes on a Plane & Venom
If gators/crocs aren't your thing - I'm not sure why they wouldn't be, but whatever floats your raft, man - then perhaps you'd be more interested in some cheesy snake action. It boggles my mind that it's been more than five years since Snakes on a Plane happened, and I'm still kind of sad that the movie has fallen through the cracks a bit in the years since its release. I'm not exactly sure why the people who were so excited about a movie called Snakes on a Plane were so quick to turn their backs on a film that acted like it was called Snakes on a Plane, but I still think it's a ton of fun.
Some have complained that Snakes on a Plane spent too much time setting up the silly reasons for the snakes being loose on the plane, and I will give them a bit of a pass on that one. Aside from the unstoppable Samuel L. Jackson and that lady from ER - who stand out mostly because of their experience in the spotlight - most of the people in Snakes on a Plane just aren't that interesting. But, then again, the movie has a ton of SNAKES on a PLANE.
If you're looking for something more ambitious (just take a look at the movies mentioned on that poster!) which features more characters and less snakes, there's always the 1981 chiller Venom. It offers only one snake - a black mamba that's super crazy - but gives us one of the best b movie casts ever. Klaus Kinski, Oliver Reed, Michael Gough, Sterling Hayden, and Susan George all become pawns in this tale of a kidnapping gone wrong via snake, and the film is better thanks to their presence. In the end, Venom (like Snakes on a Plane) is a pretty silly affair - but if you put the two together you should have enough interesting characters and more than enough snakebit action to make for a fulfilling evening.
Drive Angry & Race With The Devil
In cinema, you simply can not keep a good devil down. Earlier in this list we were worried about the houses he was in, then him riding out, and now we have two films that involve getting away from Beelzebub and his followers on the open highway.
I've already written a biased and glowing review of Drive Angry here, but I should repeat just how fun it was to see a modern film take on such a grindhouse idea with such disregard for Hollywood expectations. Nicolas Cage teams up with writer Todd Farmer and director Patrick Lussier to present a film that recognizes how cheesy it can be (William Fichtner's performance as "The Accountant" should prove that entirely), but the plot's usage of Satan as an omnipresent force and willingness to juxtapose what Fichtner and Cage know against a silly southern cult of "Satanists" puts Drive Angry in an interesting horror related spot.
If you want to see more reputable actors take driving around a cult landscape seem more serious, I recommend pairing Drive Angry with the 1975 hit Race With The Devil. Though the film is most famous to me for being used in The 'Burbs and features a supremely anti-climactic ending, Race With The Devil is almost certainly what Drive Angry would have looked like 35 years ago in a RV - except that Peter Fonda and Warren Oates are running from the cult and not toward it. And if Drive Angry is a little too self aware for y'all, then Race With The Devil's super serious tone should be plenty pleasing.
And there you have it. 10 movies for the price of five. Maybe you don't want to watch them as double features - I suppose I could have nominated the likes of Venom and Race With the Devil as substitutes - but I hope you'll at least consider some of these films that preceded their more famous recent counterparts. If nothing else, they should remind you that the same horrors can come at you from all sorts of different angles.
Yes, it's true. I have witnessed Things. I'm not exactly sure that I know what those Things were, and I'm even less sure that I know what I can say to accurately sum up Things. I remember a comedian once discussing a movie by saying that the writer picked up 7 or 8 scripts, jammed them in a shotgun, fired that against a wall and then picked up the scraps, putting those scraps together to make the script of some movie he didn't like. Something tells me the screenwriting behind Things was something like that...but without the scripts. I'm betting they just slapped together blank pieces of paper from different bundles, or something.
Things might be the most ridiculously incoherent movie ever made. I can't even begin to tell you what occurred in the film, because...well, because the film doesn't make any sense. And it knows it. One could possibly say that Things is a David Lynch style mindtrip, but one would also certainly assume that Lynch has total control over his film and a talented eye for what he wants to show us. I certainly wouldn't say the same thing about Things, because the disjointed film certainly seems to have no rhyme or reason.
Most of the film involves two friends bumbling about a house in the woods while their dialogue directly references films like The Evil Dead and The Last House on the Left. Many strange and brutal things (there's that word again!) occur to the two men, before their plight is suddenly explained away by a newswoman (adult film star Amber Lynn, who stays clothed and serious throughout the bizarre film) and a new scene begins. I kind of want to call the film's narrative a "stream of consciousness" type thing...but anyone who could conceive of such a stream needs some kind of mental treatment and probably some anti-psychotic medication.
I really, truly, mean it when I say that I have never seen anything in my life that is like Things. Is that a good thing? I have no idea. But this alleged cult masterpiece - complete with cheesy gore, repetitive music and the worst sound design and post-dubbed dialogue I have ever witnessed - seems to have set out to be this uninterpretable piece of carnage...which is what it is. So I guess, in that way, Things is a success.
I don't think that success is worth much - the most incoherent piece of crud is still a piece of crud - but it does leave Things in a class of its own. If you want to see the most incomprehensible direct-to-VHS gorefest to ever come out of Canada - you want to see Things.
Things is now available on DVD (and, in some places, VHS) via Intervision Picture Corp, who have put together a surprisingly packed DVD. The disc includes a commentary with the director and stars (which, I have to admit, I'm curious to hear), plus interviews with famous fans (among them are Hobo With a Shotgun director Jason Eisener and Tobe Freakin' Hooper!), a 20th anniversary reunion panel, some vintage behind the scenes stuff with Lynn, and more. Though the film's transfer seems to have been taken from a badly beaten VHS tape, it stands as a reminder that you can't really polish a turd.
Alas, Intervision has done as much polishing as is possible, and members of Things' "cult" will be ecstatic to see this package. If you're one of them - or if you simply can't turn away from a film that even I can't begin to describe, then you should head over to Intervision's site and witness Things with your own eyes.
I really didn't think I'd be a big fan of Hobo With a Shotgun. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'Hey, uh, The Mike....you know that Hobo With a Shotgun is kinda like a movie totally made for people like you, y'know?" And you'd be right. But the hype machine on this one made it seem like the Titanic. Too much hype, too much talk of goodness, too much "Wow, you've never seen anything like it!"...and I simply couldn't believe there wasn't gonna be an iceberg that would sink it before it reached my heart. It was too good to be true.
Now lock up your pawn shop, fill your shopping cart, look out for bears, and lend me your ears...because I'm her to tell you that I, like a fool, was completely wrong. Hobo With a Shotgun hits the screen exactly as advertised, and the film you'll be seeing just might blow your mind.
If you don't know the tale behind this Hobo, allow me a minute to recap. Way back in the dark ages of 2007, Robert Rodriguez was on the promotional trail for Grindhouse and hosted a competition in which directors could enter their own fake trailers for exploitation flicks. The winner of said competition would get a chance to play as part of Grindhouse - even if it was only in some Canadian theaters. The winner of that contest was a trailer by a few Canadian filmmakers called - you guessed it - Hobo With a Shotgun. The popularity of the trailer grew, Machete happened, and suddenly director Jason Eisener was making a full film out of his trailer - and had cast Rutger Hauer in the lead. It's the stuff that dreams are made of. Demented and twisted dreams - but dreams nonetheless.
The story of the actual film is pretty simple. A nameless Hobo (Hauer) rolls into a decrepit town that's ruled by a criminal and his spoiled sons, helps a hooker with a heart of gold, finds out the law isn't going to stop them, and takes matters into his own hands. (And by matters, I mean a shotgun.) The film does allow the Hobo a few slow moments to throw out a dramatic anecdote or two - moments that Hauer, reaching back to the skills of his Blade Runner and The Hitcher days, dominates with ease - but the blood splatter to minutes on screen ratio is kind of astronomical.
Among other things, Hobo With a Shotgun's got decapitation, shotguns to the crotch, stabbings with skates, blowtorchings, neck sawing, the use of a toaster as a weapon, and snap bracelets. Then again, the snap bracelets don't really play into the violence of the film, but there's a moment when our hooker with a heart of gold (played by Molly Dunsworth) snaps one onto each of her wrists - and instantly makes me want to fall in love with her. I mean, who doesn't miss snap bracelets? Those things were one of the Top 5 things to come out of the '80s, easily.
Speaking of the '80s, Hobo With a Shotgun certainly mimics the great decade well. Particularly tubular is the musical score, which is credited to three composers - Adam Burke, Darius Holbert, and Russ Howard III. I'm not sure why it took three dudes to come up with this musical score - but if that's what it takes to make the film sound so good, I'm all for every film having three composers. The music reminds of films like Carpenter's Escape from New York, and really kept me interested during the action sequences. The film also offers a lot of visual treats, with Eisener and crew using sharp colors to light most scenes, giving the film a retro look as the gold, blue, and even pink tints of the film add to the unique feel of the proceedings. And I'd be ashamed if I didn't mention that there's also some decent humor mixed in to the film. A newspaper headline that read "HOBO STOPS BEGGING, DEMANDS CHANGE" had me laughing loudly and heartily for several minutes.
You're probably not going to watch Hobo With a Shotgun for the music or color palette or the snap bracelets or the surprising supporting turn by Dunsworth, but these were the touches that really sold the film to me. Anyone can make violence happen, and most can make violence inventive. We've all seen that, and I didn't care to just see it again. Thus, I'm more than ecstatic that Eisener, Hauer, and the rest of the cast and crew went out of their way to bring more to the table, because each scene in the film made me increasingly certain that the people behind this film cared about what they were doing and knew what it took to do it well. The resulting film is more than a pleasant surprise - it's one of the most fantastic genre films I've seen in years.
I don't really have a lot I want to say about Machete, the Grindhouse spin-off from Robert Rodriguez and friends. It's a film that comes exactly as advertised, which is good for anyone who became rabid to see it exist after the faux-trailer brought the idea to cinemas in 2007. Like that trailer, the film is vulgar and in-your-face - offering a lot of goofy action and little focus on plot.
That's not to say Machete is entirely successful as a cheesy actionfest. Rodriguez and friends spend a lot of time focusing on the political message dealing with immigration laws and the enforcement of them. I felt like the film focused a little too heavily on these issues at times, and the plot suffers because of this. For example, Steven Seagal's drug lord character is set up to be the lead protagonist in the opening sequence, but then plays second fiddle to the immigration plot for the rest of the film. The script offers a half-cocked explanation of how this drug lord ties in to the immigration angle, but the film really seems to lose focus on the revenge plot that would appear to be Machete's motive.
Speaking of the character that is Machete, Danny Trejo does a fine job in a career-defining lead role. The veteran on-screen henchman plays to the strengths he's developed in films like Con Air, Desperado, and Heat; gritting his teeth and scowling at villains and women alike. Despite his gruff appearance, Machete is presented as a ladies man, with conquests that include Jessica Alba as an immigration agent, Michelle Rodriguez as a revolutionary/taco-stand proprietor, Lindsay Lohan as a rich daughter/porn star, and Alicia Marek as Lohan's busty redheaded mother. Trejo is also able to dial down his grimace for a few scenes that remind of his comic roles in films like Anchorman, allowing those around him to create a few laughs. A fine example of this comes in a scene where he slips past a couple of inept security guards to infiltrate the home of the "handler" who set him up.
Speaking of that handler, Jeff Fahey steals large portions of the film as Booth, the aptly named rich fellow behind the assassination attempt that's the film's crux. Though he's overshadowed by the big names in the film's advertsing, the star of The Lawnmower Man and Psycho III gives what is easily the film's most enjoyable performance as the wide-eyed, gruff-voiced antagonist. It's also nice to see Splinter's Shea Whigham as Fahey's greasy assistant; and Tom Savini in a brief cameo as a hitman who's sent after Machete.
The big names of the cast range from fine to embarrassing in the cheesy film. Robert DeNiro seems to be on cruise control as the slimy anti-Immigration senator, and Don Johnson is a little more interesting as a one-note vicious border guard. As far as the film's famous women go, Rodriguez is adequate as the leader of "The Network", while Alba is mediocre as the sympathetic cop. She probably gets the most screen-time as a protagonist aside from Trejo, yet her "important" monologue is one of the film's least effective moments. I've generally found the troubled Lohan endearing as an actress (I still like to bet people that she'll have an Oscar by the time she's 40), and she carries a couple of cheesy gags in her few scenes. (Her off-screen persona probably helps make this role work, too.)
The action in Machete is on-par with things we've seen in other Rodriguez films, though it's probably closer to the likes of the stylized Once Upon a Time in Mexico than the gritty Planet Terror. I actually felt the film was a little tamer than I'd expected, as the violence takes a back seat to the "message" of the film on occasion. The violence that does occur seems a little off at times, with some instances of very noticeable CGI killing the buzz. There are still, however, some extremely gratifying decapitations, dismemberments, and defenestrations.
For someone who said they don't have much to say about the movie, I've said quite a bit. But as an overall film, I'm sad to say that there's little that really gets me excited about it. It's a hoot in the moment, and I'm sure I'll revisit it again, but those expecting something that's completely unrestrained - at least to the level of Grindhouse - will probably be a little disappointed. Machete feels like a b-action movie by a b-action filmmaker, the kind of time-passing "party" film that a bunch of friends would put on when there are too many people around to watch an actual movie. That's not a bad thing - Machete succeeds in most technical regards and can't be accused of being dull. Unfortunately, it didn't do much for me that would separate it from the pack of the summer's action films - including Stallone's The Expendables and the Rodriguez produced Predators - and it doesn't seem raw enough to become a true cult classic. Perhaps time will prove me wrong, but for now I must admit I'm a little disappointed by what I got from Machete.
Back in the Spring of 2007, I initially struggled with what my true feelings were for Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof. Presented as the b-side feature in Grindhouse, the throwback collaboration between QT and long-time friend Robert Rodriguez, the film seemed out of place after the non-stop cheesefest that was Planet Terror and the batch of fake trailers that surrounded it.
It had been easy for me to see some of the film's charm when Grindhouse hit on that April night, but it just simply wasn't clicking then. At that moment, I looked at Death Proof the same way I would look at a fabulous Mexican restaurant right after I'd spent three hours downing burgers and dogs at a 4th of July cookout. It's a completely different brand than what it was packaged with, and I simply didn't have the energy to care at the time.
But something kind of amazing happened when I got the film alone later that year...I kinda loved it.
Death Proof - in a roundabout way - focuses on the character of Stuntman Mike, played by Kurt Russell. Putting Kurt Russell in your movie is about the easiest way to catch The Mike's eye (I almost went to that Dreamer movie about a horse just for Kurt!), and he doesn't disappoint as Tarantino's unhinged stunt driver. Thou shalt not doubt Kurt is one of The Mike Commandments, so I knew that would happen. But I wasn't prepared for what else the film had to offer.
A majority of the film focuses on the groups of young women who become Stuntman Mike's prey, which is where the film caught me off guard. I should have known a little better - half of Tarantino's films are scenes where characters sit around a table drinking beverages and yammering about cool stuff - but the hectic nature of Rodriguez' preceding film had clouded my judgment. As I looked at the film later, I realized that these scenes were quite a bit more interesting than I'd realized. Particularly enjoyable is the discussion that opens the film's second half (or, Grindhouse's fourth quarter) in which '70s car chase movies become the topic.
While Planet Terror embraced horror conventions thoroughly, this film sits squarely on the ledge of the horror genre, seeminlgy unsure of if it really wants to step inside and join the party. Stuntman Mike is built up as a likeable character before his "turn", and when he does become menacing the effect is doubled by Russell's ability to fill the role. But when you step aside from the fact that there's a menacing fellow, there aren't many horror movie trappings here. The film is more indicative of those "gearhead" films of the '70s - where the cars were the stars - than any horror films of the era. It definitely doesn't matchup with Planet Terror in this regard, as that film plays more like something Lucio Fulci would have thrown up on the screen at the time.
It's incredibly easy to sit here and point out the disconnect I felt with Death Proof while my mind was being manipulated by the horror genre, but nowadays it's also easy for me to point out the things I love about Death Proof as a standalone film. The pace of the film allows each major character to gain a bit of depth, and Tarantino's camera lingers patiently as they move through the film. As is always the case with Tarantino, the soundtrack accentuates the mood perfectly, and offers plenty of funky beats. The car scenes and stunts are most impressive, and are an example of Tarantino succeeding in an arena of film that had rarely been seen in his repertoire before.
Though Stuntman Mike is at the wheel, Death Proof is driven by the characters who may become his victims. Rose McGowan, Vanessa Ferlito, and stuntwoman-turned-star Zoe Bell are the most interesting characters, though side players like Jordan Ladd and Tracie Thoms also get a few moments to shine. The film is Tarantino's most dialogue driven work this side of Jackie Brown, and the actresses - for the most part - manage to become characters that the viewer has some interest in. There are a couple of token victims thrown in to the film - one character seems to appear in a car without having been in the rest of the film - but the characters we're introduced to are well-written and the execution of the characters (no pun intended) carries more weight than many horror films could dream of.
Death Proof is subdued in comparison to the rest of that Grindhouse experience, and even a bit tame compared to most horror films. Regardless, Tarantino's film is always interesting to me these days, and Russell's sick character still manages to get under my skin at times. I underestimated it grossly when we first met, and I'm willing to make it up to Death Proof. I'm incredibly fond of the film these days, and think it just might have a longer shelf-life than anyone - including myself - ever expected.
If you have questions or suggestions not regarding a specific review, or would like to recommend a movie to The Mike, feel free to email him at frommidnightwithlove(at)gmail(dot)com!
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