Déhà - Decadanse (2022)

Decadanse is an interesting album for me to approach, for while I've heard a few of this artist's myriad projects in the past (Yhdarl, Silver Knife and Wolvennest to name but a few), he's been on a massive productivity streak with this 'solo' act...dozens of full-lengths and collaborations in just the last 4-5 years, part of which was possibly spurred on by pandemic-era isolation, but is showing no signs of slowing down even today. From what I've just briefly been able to read, the Déhà project is one that intentionally avoids pigeon-holing itself into too narrow a niche, but if I had to describe this, it's almost a horror landscape terraformed through a mixture of drone, doom, black metal, industrial and electronic ingredients, programmed drums with extreme vocals ranging from a prolonged rasp or growl to whispery nightmares or soaring mid-range harmonies.

There are but two tracks, each 22-23 minutes in length and obviously narrating a creepy, grandiose concept through musical construction that transforms from careful control to calamity, but always focused on forming oblique and harrowing imagery in the listener's mind. There are times when this is lurching along like the most stolid funeral doom, and others when it intensifies into blasting frenzy and tremolo picked note progressions. The guitars vary from rather predictable trudges and black metal melodies to more spacious, eerie anomalies that are constantly offering up a higher dimension beyond the aggressive substrate of the songwriting. His vocals are splayed out almost like paints of blood and ichor splashed on a canvas, becoming a part of the atmosphere just as often as they're a metallic, percussive focal point. And what's more, there is a tendency to lurch into some unexpected electronic/techno part which is quite fun despite sounding a little less dire and serious than the rest.

I'm not going to claim I was totally bowled over by Decadanse, I mean it delivers what is advertised and successfully transfers the feelings of gloom and fright into the mix, but occasionally it relies on some repetition, or riff patterns that are a bit predictable or repetitive. In the span of 20+ minutes, there could certainly be a few more interesting riffs or atmospheres on exhibit, I don't know if they struck often enough through this particular album's play-length as they might have on some of his others. But having said that, when I pull myself back about a mile from the details, and just appreciate the dark and monolithic atmosphere, the obvious amount of work places in the tortured vocals, and the placement of segues like the electronic parts, or the creepy acoustic break in "I Am the Dead" with the filtered vox, this is definitely an imaginative and involved work that fans of lightless, atmospheric dread will get a lot of, and I'm surely prompted to listen to more of what he's done directly under the Déhà handle.

Verdict: Win [7.5/10]

https://deha.bandcamp.com/

The Food of the Gods (1976)

As much of a sucker as I am for films about giant-sized animals terrorizing human beings, The Food of the Gods is not one I've had the 'pleasure' of experiencing until recently, when the ladyfriend and I were in the mood for something a bit of awful to counteract the seriousness of our daily lives. It's a 70s piece based on a 1904 H.G. Wells novel that, despite its cautionary implications, has never been one of his most famous works, but nonetheless was ahead of its time if you take into account the thousands of environmental backlash science fiction stories and films that have since manifest due to the social conscience and political protest. When I say 'based on', I meant that in the loosest of terms, because it transplants a tiny bit of the tale into modern (70s) times, which is honestly part of why the film's plot falls to pieces in very short order...

GIANT SPOILERS AHEAD

This Food of the Gods is no Godzilla, so instead of mankind's destruction arriving in the form of a massive radioactive lizard due to nuclear testing, it gently bubbles up from the earth like a great bowl of curds 'n' whey, on a not so remote British Columbian island which we are given very little other information about. Directly on the property of a pair of the dumbest elderly folk you might ever see in a film, Mr. and Mrs. Skinner, one of whom has raced off on the local ferry to try and find more information and possibly profit from the discover. For, you see, ingestion of the 'F.O.T.G.' by young animals causes them to grow up to astounding heights, and through the film we see some cheesy transparent wasps (who solidify to a plastic like composition when they're actually on the body of an actor), rooster and chickens (somehow being kept in the Skinners' small barn), grub worms (I think in the original there were earwigs), and of course, the fucking rats, which are truly the stars of this piece, if there are any.

Onto this scene busts a pregnant couple, a trio of football guys (reduced to a 'pair' fairly early on), and a businessman who wants to exploit Mr. Skinner's discovery, not to mention his lovely assistant who is of course to be set up with the lead jock. I recognized a few of the actors, like Marjoe Gortner who was also in the awful sci-fi epic Starcrash as the lead, Ida Lupino as Mrs. Skinner, and Ralph Meeker of The Dirty Dozen and Kiss Me Deadly, but this was hardly a gathering of star power. Of course, being an archaic horror movie, most of the characters act completely irrational through the film, making terrible mistakes and not seeing the obvious 'writing on the wall', that their lives are in fucking danger from fucking giant fucking animals! Seriously, people, one WHIFF of a giant rooster, or a wasp turning my friend into a swollen bag of bruised skin and pus, and I am the hell out of this place, forever. I'll get the army, I'll get the mounties, or whatever those Canadians use to protect themselves. No way in hell am I keeping some in my barn, or leaving my elderly wife behind in a forest full of giant wasps and rats being led by a menacing albino...

And yet, there are many situations throughout this film that could just have been avoided with a little common sense. For example, in one scene, the jocks pull up in their nifty jeep to help out the pregnant couple, whose RV has been left stranded in a ditch on the road; they offer to take them along, but even though the couple has mentioned they saw something strange already, the guy decides the jocks can just pick them up on the way back. Really! He leaves himself and his very pregnant woman right in danger's path, and sure enough, the rats come along eventually (but I'll say no more). The lead football guy Morgan actually attempts to fight off the giant hordes of rats, and succeeds, thanks to his strangely MacGuyver like practicality and knowledge of guns, jury-rigged explosives, electrified fences (he's got a portable generator in the jeep) and how to blow up a dam...which leads me to the stupidest part of The Food of the Gods, its 'climax'...

So throughout the film, the giant rats and other animal effects are achieved through a mix of tricky camera work presenting real film of rats imposed against the actors, and various models (like the Skinner's house in the final showdown, clearly a model/dollhouse tot he point its distracting). During close-ups of biting and killing, they're represented by what look like giant animatronic heads...pretty cool, actually. Once in awhile there is some degree of pathos when they're dragging down a dude and biting him to death, and in truth the rat actors handle this film like champs. Numerous rodents get shot with what seems to be air guns or paint balls of tomato paste or ketchup, and they go hurtling through the air. As lame and obvious as it seems, it's pretty darn fun. These things earned someone a paycheck for good reason. But then, in order to finish the fight, Morgan goes and blows up a damn. Yes, on a small island, which looks to have little other water than a few small ponds, there is suddenly this highland dam which is burst, then flows down and back UPHILL to the Skinners' place to drown the rats (who are not adapted to swim at their current size and weight).

Of course there was no real dam there, and you can faintly see the ocean behind it, so the water of the 'flood' is another special effect, and it all looks so hammy that any shredded suspension of disbelief that remained went right out the window in a fit of blustering laughter. What an inane ending to an inane film! Okay, so that's not 'exactly' the ending, but I won't reveal the predictable 'twist' after Morgan and the other survivors burn the rats bodies and clean up the drowned cottage. Let's just say you can see it coming from a few islands away, and it's been done dozens of times in other, similar ecologically-based films. Granted, for '76 it was more of a novel idea, but it still doesn't really explain where this shit came from to begin with? Hey, yeah, 'Food of the Gods'? Hi, it's Magma. Your neighbor. Yeah, the hot guy. Oil and I have decided that there's really no room for another volatile liquid beneath the earth, so you'll find an eviction notice posted to your stream. Actually, I like to imagine that there was fertility God lying in slumber beneath this island, and he had a wet dream which soaked through to the surface...

At any rate, this is a pretty shitty flick with a few laughs to it, that failed to make much of an impact during its box office haul and swiftly sunk to the level of B-horror. The actors don't try a hell of a lot, and why should they? The rats dominate most of the film, and even the 'sequel' that was released in the late 80s (with only a few story ties to this original). In HD there are a few nice scenes of the woods on the island, but apart from the hammy visuals of the rats and chickens, there aren't many effects of note. The score isn't particularly gripping or memorable, and the 'message' of the film has since been played out to death. It's also not really scary, as in many bad horror films the stupid victims resigned themselves to their deaths, when they should have been running. It's not like they weren't warned...so now I'm warning you, don't bother with this movie, even for free on Netflix, unless you're specifically seeking out something awful to kill time.

Verdict: Fail by the Tail [3/10]

Halloween (1978)

I'm going to preface this review by stating that I'm not really a slasher fan. Or perhaps I should clarify: I'm not really a fan of the 'big three' slasher franchises which have corroded the arteries of moviegoers and horror-hos for the past 30 years. Nightmare on Elm Street is irredeemable tripe in its entirety, and while I thought the very first Friday the 13th film had some potential, the franchise's transformation into masked-stabbing-by numbers became an increasing chore to experience. And then, there is Halloween, John Carpenter's legendary film which birthed a thousand copycats, most of which I find just as void of thrills and entertainment as the original...

You read that right. I don't like Halloween. It's a formulaic, predictable piece of film that neither stirs my emotions, ever makes me feel remotely threatened or scared, and never seems to get any more interesting no matter how many second chances I spend with it. Oh, I can appreciate certain elements at play here. In particular, I think John Carpenter did a wonderful job with the synthesizer score, which deserves all its place in horror history as one of the finest in the genre. I like some of his direction choices...some of the film techniques. Like the first-person views, the massive up-front panning shots of Haddonfield's middle America suburb setting. The chance to see the breasts of almost everyone Michael....

*Spoilers and punkin' seeds*

Yeah, but as far as the actual plot, acting and script are concerned? This must be one of the most blase films to ever achieve such an unbelievable cult status. Little Michael Myers murders his sister in cold blood, after we get a nice glimpse of her cleavage of course. No real explanation, the kid is just dead inside. So he gets put away for 15 years, and breaks out, while Dr. Sam Loomis is straight on his heels. So he goes back to his old neighborhood, picks a few teenage girls who he thinks will reveal their tits before he stabs them or strangles them, and gets to work. Man, can Michael pick them! Because two of his three targets do indeed reveal their shapely bon bons before gettin' their dues. But no, not Laurie, she's the smart one, fights back and manages to turn the tide. Or does she? Roll the credits.

Sound like a preposterously basic plot? Because it really is, and in no way is the film gruesome or frightening in the slightest. The titular 'Halloween' is represented only by the fact that it's that time of year in Haddonfield, and there are pumpkins everywhere (and a cool movie poster). It does work in Myers' favor of course that no one questions this creep whose driving or stalking around in the open, during the daytime, because hell, on Halloween even grown ups are allowed to be murderous psychos trespassing and hanging out where they shouldn't be. But really, I'd actually forgive all of these strange little inconsistencies if the film could scare me, but like most of the Friday the 13th sequels, the deaths are all too predictable, and there is not a twist in sight (they attempt a few in the Halloween sequels).

I like Donald Pleasance in general. He was cool in The Great Escape and You Only Live Twice, and he's just pretty average here. Having a 'foil' for the psycho killer is an interesting choice, but it becomes a bit redundant in the subsequent entries to the franchise. Also, this was the film debut for Jamie Lee Curtis, her first 'screen queen' role predating The Fog or Prom Night, but she's really nothing special here either. The teen friends all feel phony. They're basically here to smoke up, be naughty with boys and take their shirt offs so they can be stabbed, so I think the award for 'best role' here would have to go to Nick Castle, who stalks around silently as Michael Myers for $25/day on set and manages to grunt a bit and add a fraction of atmospheric eeriness. He's no Kane Hodder or Gunnar Hansen, but he gets the job done.

Unfortunately, the movie comes across too clean and unsurprising to really resonate with me, and while it's certainly a progenitor for the slasher genre, it was nowhere near as good as those few predecessors it had, like Black Christmas or excellent Texas Chainsaw Massacre (which is admittedly the fourth largest of the useless franchises, but at least built upon a phenomenally fucked up first chapter). I realize it's a pretty old film for its style, but I am four years older and it never even freaked me out as a child.

Needless to say, I'm not popular at parties when it comes to slasher discussions, but I can't help but feel that this is one of those films that is so highly loved and accepted due to its premise alone and what it represented, rather than the actual quality of its less than gripping suspense. And considering just how great other Carpenter films are (The Thing, They Live, Big Trouble in Little China), I can't help but feel that this is just a wee bit overrated...and by a wee bit I mean massively. I don't 'hate' Halloween, it has its strong points (the music and camera style), and it blows Nightmare on Elm Street away, but its premise and 'thrills' are flatline average at best.

Verdict: Indifference [5.5/10]

I Tre volti della paura aka 'Black Sabbath' (1963)

As far as Mario Bava's films go, The Three Faces of Fear (Black Sabbath among English audiences) is a relatively restrained affair lacking a wealth of shocks and nail biting suspense. It's not as violent as Twitch of the Death Nerve or as campy as something like Planet of the Vampires or Kill, Baby, Kill, but it compensates in its use of atmospheric mood setting and appropriate musical accompaniment, not to mention solid performances that help to sell what are admittedly simplistic tales that don't rely on overt twists to lure the audience. Shot in gorgeous Technicolor, the use of lighting here and the generally slow, assured pace are what will stand to memory long after the stories have played out, but I must warn any prospective viewers in advance that the Italian version of the film is by far the one worth watching, as the American remake significantly alters one of the stories ("The Telephone") to remove a pretty tame but potentially controversial subtext and mixes around the playing order unnecessarily.

The first of the three stories, "The Telephone" is a simple stalker piece involving the titular device in a central role. I wouldn't call this one entirely predictable, since there's a slight tint of irony to the resolution, but really the joy here is in experiencing the clean movements of the actresses (and actor) to the chic lounge-jazz score. But really, this is but a setup for the far more interesting period piece "The Wurdulak", which is the most beautifully shot, with a larger cast than its neighbors and a very certain level of somber suspense and psychedelic occult, not to mention an internal, appreciated consistency. Boris Karloff, who opened the film with a bit of narration, also features here and does his usual 'monstrous' job, gluing the audience to his wild eyes and spectral movements across the screen. The final piece, "The Drop of Water", is your garden variety ghost story with a hint of Edgar Allen Poe, but to its credit it manages a few cheap thrills and again the great use of lighting and minimal effects to rouse the audience.

What I didn't actually enjoy about Black Sabbath was the lack of any real consistency in the way the three stories related to one another. Outside of the fact that they were indeed horror, it just felt like an omnibus of material, and they clearly weren't equals (I found "The Wurdulak" to be superior to both of its surrounding shorts, and almost wish they had been omitted to provide a full-length feature with more twists and turns to that particular story). Also, as was generally the case for a lot of Italian films or gialos in the 60s-80s, the cast feels almost too beautiful to really believe, especially in "The Wurdulak", in which even the peasants are enormously well groomed and cleanly despite living in the middle of goddamn nowhere. I blame it on Hollywood, really, for the sense of glamor so central to the casting, and it's not as if the actresses are hard on the eyes (Michele Mercier, Rika Dialina, Susy Anderson and Jacqueline Pierreux are all Helen of Troy material), but a little bit more grime beyond the few elderly characters would not have hurt.

Ultimately, the trio are aesthetically pleasing enough to recommend to anyone into retro horror flicks from the 60s, and especially those into the classic Hammer Horror vibe. There can be no doubt of the influence of Mario Bava on directors worldwide: his pacing and atmospheric focus are quite intense, and his eye for capturing statuesque beauty. There can also be no doubt of the film's influence on pop culture at large, thanks to a little Birmingham, England band who decided to snap up the title as their moniker, and help birth a genre of music whose purpose was to aesthetically mirror the horror genre with somber blues, crushing chords and ominous lyrics and song structures. To think, without triad of Bava briefs, I might not be sitting here typing this to you right now...

Verdict: Win [7.25/10]

The Mummy (1959)

The Hammer Horror rendition of The Mummy is the second film to bear the eponymous title, though it heavily borrows characters, plot and ideas from some of the sequels to the original Universal pictures starring Boris Karloff in the titular role. Like most of the Hammer releases in its period, the production values are quite elaborate and contribute greatly to enjoyment of the film. The lavish sets and colors, the excellent score by Franz Reizenstein, the measured skill of the cast all compensate for the rather lackluster and predictable script here. It's a bit talkative, and nowhere near as action packed at the later 90s version starring Arnold Vosloo and Brendan Frasier, but then, it doesn't need to be. Hell, I could watch Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee juggle squirrels and sugar gliders while dressed in leotards and rabbit ears and be content.

*Thousands of...er, 50+ years of spoilers*

I mentioned that there was a lot of dialogue here, and part of this the constant exposition being shared with the audience through the film. On one hand, this was probably a decent primer for the late 50s audience, who had several less decades than we do of Egyptology 101 in our cultural diets. A lot of the details seem fairly accurate, at least in the idealized sense, and Christopher Lee is superb as the priest Kharis, whose love for a Princess cursed him to protect her for all eternity as her somber mummified champion. His scenes both in priestly garb and the creature costume are a pleasure, and at times he's even difficult to recognize. But on the other hand, The Mummy really fails to build and deliver suspense. As soon as the Mehemet Bey character shows up to warn the archaeologists, and then curse them for disturbing the sanctified dead, we know exactly how the rest of the film will play out...and so it does, without any surprises in store.

Granted, anyone who had seen ANY of the Universal flicks would not be going into this with the expectation of shocks, but even the horror elements here seem rather tame. Kharis murders by strangling. He gets shot a few times. He crashes through doors and breaks bars in an asylum cell. Big deal, really. There are other Hammer Horror pieces with more gruesome details, but then, this is not that sort of outing, but more of an accessible production which stands on the designs of its sets, the costumes and the actors alone. This is more of a classy Romance/horror in the vein of Dracula than anything else. It was only 1959, after all, and the sick stuff would be kick started in the following decade, but it would not have hurt Terence Fisher to stretch the envelope just a few inches.

I should mention that Peter Cushing is rather a bad ass here, and never hesitates to go at the shambling mummy with a shotgun, or even a grapple. Fuck, if I had a millenias-old undead on my heels, ensorcelled to put a cap on my lifeline, I'd be hightailing it by land, air or sea to the other side of the planet, where the necromancer with a chip on his shoulder would never find me. I don't care if I have to live out the rest of my lifeline working a rice paddy, or carting a rickshaw about the stinking, disease infested streets. I am out of there. I am GHOST. Not Cushing's John Banning though, he'd rather face the problem head on. If only Grand Moff Tarkin had such balls, the Rebellion would have been quelled many galaxies ago, and we'd never have had to suffer the damned Ewoks!

In summation, The Mummy is a film one should watch for the performances and visuals more than the story, which you'll see coming from a mile away. It never creates the same sense of dread as later Hammer outings like The Lost Continent (1968) or Quatermass and the Pit (1967), but then, they were released in an era where studios were allowed to take more chances. If I had to compare this to the Karloff or Vosloo vehicles, then it probably places a solid third. I realize my preference for the first film of the 90s series might dismay some readers, but there can be no question that Arnold owned that role, and the light, Indiana Jones action flair had a few nice twists in it, not to mention the advances in film and effects. But as it stands, the 1959 cult classic certainly feels timeless enough thanks to the primary actors, who I'd consider two of my personal favorites in the entire pantheon of international thespians.

Verdict: Win [7.75/10]

Stake Land (2010)

"And it was over like that. All that goodness, shattered by some Christian crazies droppin' vamps from the sky."

Stake Land is a recent American post-apocalyptic horror film which arrives amidst a glut of such titles, from the I Am Legend remake and 28 Days Later, to The Road film and Justin Cronin's soon to be adapted novel The Passage, plus about a gajillion others that all owe more than a share of their existence and inspiration to Richard Matheson and George Romero. So immediately the movie is faced with an uphill struggle as it attempts to balance its memorable and 'touching' moments against the slogging derivation of its theme. At heart, though, this is a primarily a 'human' drama dressed in a bit of animated gore and fighting, quite a lot like the televised adaptation of Robert Kirkman's The Walking Dead comic only not nearly as good. In fact, I found that the human elements worked both for and against Stake Land, because they represented both its finest scenes and its perplexing inconsistencies, in addition to its absurd stance on the Christian right wing which almost seems as if it were born directly through the liberal propaganda of something like MSNBC.

*Spoiler land*

Some unforeseen and unexplained 'plague' has swept across the world and turned a percentage of the population into zombies...or vampires...or whatever you want to call them. They have fangs, they eat people, they're occasionally stronger than the average human, and they have the minds of animals. We're not talking Bill Compton or L'estat here, but a pack of rancid savages whom often look like they just got drunk at an Insane Clown Posse gig. Through it all, we follow the travails of the stone cold vampire killer 'Mister' (performed by actor/writer Nick Damici) and his young sidekick as they journey through the treacherous South to arrive at the fabled New Eden, some Northern locale which is safest for human survivors. There are a number of punctual and violent scenes depicting the youth as Mister trains him to cut his teeth on the sawed off fangs of would be predators, and eventually they meet up with 'Sister' (Kelly McGillis) and a hot teen girl that's just about the right age to be a love interest for the lead...

Ready to gag yet? Well, it gets a bit worse when we realize that the vampires are not actually the antagonists here, but the crazy Aryan-themed 'Brotherhood', a society of Christian loonies that have eschewed the Ten Commandments in favor of using feral vamps to assimilate all of the remaining survivors and start their New World Order. Of course these guys wear hoods like the KKK, are probably racists (they dump one black guy at an outhouse and leave him for the vamps until our heroes come along to save him), rape women (even the Holy ones) and are basically a political metaphor for Americans' morbid fascination with the right wingers, Jesus Camp or Bible belters. The director and writer don't come out and say this, of course, and it's perhaps the case that they meant no such harm, but it's almost impossible to watch Stake Land and not come away with bile rising in my throat.

Now, I'm no Christian and no Fundamentalist, nor even am I particularly conservative or the member of any right wing, red flag militia, but I cannot stand when a horror film, which makes money off gore and thrills, is preaching to me about the dark divide of humanity. I also find it incredibly inconsistent in the world of this film. These vampires are not quite so tough...a pair of wanderers kill a great deal of them, and they are known to have weak spots. So what exactly was the problem here? How did they manage to destroy so much of our civilization when it's clear with advanced weaponry and organization we could have slaughtered them by the thousands? And how did this 'Brotherhood' manage to wreck Washington by dropping planes of vampires on it, or take over what amounts to much of the human-inhabited South, when just about EVERY scene we see of them depicts them as bumbling idiots who fall for the oldest tricks in the book!?

I also just don't buy the main character, since he seems entirely flat and devoid of personality despite his central role and overlying narrative. I figured since I saw the kid's family get diced by vamps in an early scene that I'd develop some sort of bond for him, but I felt nothing. Hell, I'd take Jesse Eisenberg's narrator/character in Zombieland any day of this guy, even if he was playing it for laughs. There's also a moment where Sister got on my nerves, as she begins to work her moral ramblings upon Mister, who promptly tells her she'll be deposited at the next stop so she can go save some souls. Really, Sister? These beats are killing Gods' creations indiscriminately, but I half feel like she'd rather feed us along to the afterlife with our collars unbuttoned.

All of this negativity aside, I must say that I cannot completely fault Stake Land, because there are a number of strong points that render it at the least watchable (once) if not entirely enjoyable. For one, I rather liked Nick Damici's take on the ruthless vampire killer. This guy takes no shit, and if something like this plague were to occur, I'd like to know that we can all become a 'Mister', and get each others' backs as we deal with the problem. He's also smart. He has a small tool to lift lips and check for fangs. He sets up traps that the stupid vamps cannot resist. He knows exactly how to disable any of the vamps, whether kids ('scamps'), newly turned, or powerful specimens (who are known as 'berserkers').

The location shots are great, and add to the realism of the film. The landscapes are not completely destroyed, but they're solemn and empty enough to allow for the ambiance of the pianos to pluck at our heartstrings. There's a similar atmosphere to The Road and The Walking Dead, only not as gray-toned as the former and not so wonderfully filmed as the latter, and the music seems to get better as it grows more intense. The scenes of drama and action are very carefully balanced, so it never grows dull in the near 100 minute running time, and even though part of its central journey feels hokey, it at least feels as if you've been traveling alongside these characters, which I suppose is necessary for such a plot.

Stake Land has problems, primarily in that the whole brother killing brother mentality which has always made little sense to me when there is a far greater threat at hand (to all of us). It's not the monsters that are the problems, guys, it's them darn humans! Always the humans you gotta look out for. We get it, now can we all hold hands? There's also the fact that this stretch of terrain has already been trampled to oblivion, and it's rapidly becoming a horse deader than the starved ghouls from which the protagonists are fleeing. But, worse than either of these flaws, the film is just never scary. Even the scenes that might feel 'startling' are obvious from a mile away. It's serious in tone, granted, but never all that uncomfortable, and the makeup and effects aren't all that interesting (The Walking Dead, or that French film Mutants I recently covered are both far better in this area). Obviously a large degree of effort was placed in its development, but I came out of this feeling pretty blasé.

Verdict: Indifference [5.5/10]

Dracula (1931)

It's all about the stare. The stare that has persevered eight decades, terrifying or enchanting many generations of new fans to the Universal pictures classic Dracula. Bela Lugosi, who was very nearly NOT cast in the role (imagine that), brought his stage vampire persona to the big screen adaptation of Stoker's masterpiece and the rest is cinema history. How many times has his heavily accented Romanian inflection met reprisal through celebration or caricature? How many pale, ghoulish gentlemen do you witness at your average Halloween get together sporting capes, fake fangs and blood dribbled on their chins like a bite of an errant bite of raspberry pastry? They owe it all to this particular film, whether they're die hard advocates of the Bram Stoker text or True Blood aficionados trying to be all cute.

Yes, Lugosi's brightly lit, mind controlling glare might be the single most pertinent image that stands to memory here, but Dracula is loaded with beautiful set pieces, elegant design and a traditional 'haunted castle' aesthetic that, while cheesy in retrospect, was quite impressive for its day. A giant cobweb serves to set up a metaphor from the Count about the relationship of prey and predator, it's architect then scuttling up the far wall. Floppy, fake bats are near constants in the film, usually the Count himself on a house call. Wolves howl off in the distance, setting up one of the greatest lines in all film: 'Listen to them. Children of the night. What music they make.' Both the Transilvanian and Carfax Abbey, London locales are efficaciously Gothic, ripe with a foreboding grandeur that feels timeless despite being filmed a grandparent's lifespan ago. And let us not forget the omnipresent fog. I'm a huge fan of black/white films for their lighting. Hell, I might live in a black and white world if given the opportunity, so naturally I revel in this.

If Dracula feels like a stage production with a set no Broadway venue could hold, that's really what it was. Film had only recently begun to evolve out of the silent features of the 20s, and thus a good portion of this functions on imagery alone. In particular I really enjoyed the sweeping, ominous motions of Dracula's wives, the iconic still shot of the castle, or the scene of Dracula and Mina confronting Renfield on the old stone stair while he pleads for his life. This movie is over eighty years old, so a lot of its horrors were 'implied'. For example, we don't actually see the vampire's bites, he'll usually just lean over a victim and then it cuts to the next scene. We hear screams off in the backdrop, and have to guess what might be happening.

A classic, to be sure, but I do have some quips with the film, even allowing for its age. For one, the final death scene of Dracula is not played dramatically, but anticlimactically: the practical staking at the hands of Edward Van Sloan's Van Helsing. This might honestly seem a 'realistic' approach, but considering how much time was just spent building up this powerful, mythic figure, a closing 'glare' or a few spit lines of dialogue might have seemed more consistent approach. Also, some of the sea footage was borrowed from a previous reel (The Storm Breaker, 1925) and I might have lived without the clip of Tchaichovsky's "Swan Lake" over the opening credits. These are minor details, granted, and the studios of cinema antiquity had to make budget decisions like this, could not likely afford a full original score, etc, but it still seems the equivalent of finding a hair in your soup, that anything was derived from an outside source.

Fortunately, you can actually watch this today with the Philip Glass score commissioned in 1998, for which he used the Kronos Quartet. Purists will probably avoid this like the plague, and yet I can't help but feel Glass did a stellar job here and it should not be ignored. At the very least, it helps distract the modern audience away from some of the old tape hiss in the audio which might turn off those used to the advancements in the medium. But either way, Dracula deserves every iota of praise it receives, for it is unquestionably one of the most influential works of Hollywood in the 20th century. Is it better than its blood sucking predecessor, Nosferatu? That I cannot say, because F.W. Murnau's silent epic is far more resonant and horrifying to me personally. As much as I enjoy Lugosi's shit-eating grin and Carpathian charm, he is no Max Schreck (but then, no one is). In the end, though Dracula is undeniable a work of wonder, its magic forever engraved upon the consciousness of pop culture within its horror genre and beyond.

Verdict: Epic Win [9.25/10]

Santa Sangre (1989)

Santa Sangre ('Holy Blood') might just be the most elaborately garbed serial slasher/revenge flick in the history of cinema, but that comes as little shock once one takes into account the enigmatic individual at its helm. Those of you who have experienced Alejandro Jodorowsky's prior works El Topo (1970) and The Holy Mountain (1973) will be attuned to the incessant bombardment of unnerving and surreal imagery he imparts through his films, and his enormous fascination with circus freaks, midgets, amputees, pageantry, and the mentally disabled. Santa Sangre is a surprisingly straightforward narrative from the Chilean master, likely due to the fact that he was attempting to break into a more mainstream audience in the 80s and shared the writing with Claudio Argento (brother to famed horror director Dario) and Roberto Leoni. But fear not, because much of his trademark insanity is well intact.

*Santa Expoliadors*

This is the tale of a young circus magician (Fenix) in Mexico whose mother is brutally dispatched after splashing acid on his father's wang. That's the setup, told through a series of remarkable scenes and scenery which involve an elephant's funeral (complete with peasant scavengers tearing the beasts guts out of its enormous coffin) and father Orgo's seduction by a tattooed lady. Here we are first introduced to the various support case, including Fenix's mother (Concha) and the deaf-mute (Alma) who sort of plays the lead's 'love interest' throughout. The rest of the saga plays out as one of revenge, Concha controlling her son to use him as her 'arms' as she destroys anyone who has hurt her family or comes close to Fenix. Events occasionally jump around in between flashbacks and the 'present' of the film, but it's actually pretty easy to follow and makes a lot more sense than something like The Holy Mountain which is esoteric to a fault.

At its heart, the simplicity of the plot and it's not so unforeseen psychological twists is not really the star of this show, but the amazing flood of imagery manifest in true Jodorowsky style. We see a graveyard of white painted, veiled nudes who represent Fenix's guilt for the murders. Or a noisy, festival-like prostitute market in which a pack of hospital patients with Downs Syndrome are introduced to an obese hooker for a night of pleasure, while the street ladies and various freakish and deformed officers dance away to salsa lines. One of my favorite scenes is actually the morning AFTER the prostitute market, where we see 'day of the dead' skeletons lying strewn about a street, a mariachi band performs and the obese harlot and her pimp (played by Alejandro's late son Teo) embrace, along with two of the officers who patronized the tattooed woman the night before.

Just a prime example of Jodorowsky's consistent reuse of characters and constant 'parade' like configuration he uses in many scenes. There always seems to be something going on that adds a subtle, second (or further) layer to all of the primary action and storyline, and it makes Santa Sangre, like his other films, easy to revisit and decipher. But none of this would work without such convincing actors, and in addition to Blanca Guerra (Concha) and Guy Stockwell (Orgo), special credit should be given here to Alejandro's three sons Axel (Fenix), Adan (young Fenix) and Teo (pimp) who all treat this with the fragile balance of disenchantment and intensity that it deserves. In particular, Axel/Cristobal Jodorowsky is a living storm of talent, which has sadly not been put to use often through the years.

It's not all gold, and with a near two hour runtime, there are some scenes, certainly in the latter half of the film, which do drag just a bit. For example, a lot of the later film is shot in Fenix's Zorro meets Phantom of the Opera like magician hideaway, and some of the 'mom time' didn't really establish anything deeper about the pair's relationship. It seems like Jodorowsky used up much of the film's surreal potential before we get to this point, and it then becomes a more formulaic horror experience. I didn't feel the film was nearly as outrageous and memorable as The Holy Mountain, but then, that's a review for another time, and Santa Sangre seems as if it were intended more as a Central American giallo with a few of Jodorowsky's personal touches, rather than the other way around. Either way, though, it works fairly damn well. Not the sort of story one will easily forget, and easily deserving of its cult reverence.

Verdict: Win [8.25/10]

Re-Animator (1985)

Though it's heavily based upon the 20s H.P. Lovecraft story "Herbert West - Reanimator", the Stuart Gordon helmed, Brian Yuzna produced Re-Animator is pretty much the epitome of the cheesy, entertaining 80s horror flick. With B-Movie extraordinaire Jeffrey Combs in his defining role, one that he's never in my opinion surpassed, we're treated to a good old Frankenstein tale of the dead being returned to the living, only not in the way that their restorers might have preferred. Only, unlike Shelley's classic masterpiece, this is not a story with any residual moral qualities, but a spectacle of gore played almost entirely for laughs, despite its sinister undercurrent of possibility. Re-Animator is not quite so over the top as something like Peter Jackson's Braindead, which clearly took a few queues from this, but it's nonetheless a riot. The haircuts and cinematography might feel dated to its decade of greatness, but like Scanners, Evil Dead and The Return of the Living Dead, it's the sort of 80s cult film worth revisiting every few years in the spirit of bloody fun.

You know the entirety of the plot as soon as you see the title: Re-Animator, and that's pretty much the only hangup I might have with this film. Herbert West, who previously was working with a prominent Swiss scientist, has traveled to Miskatonic University in Massachusetts to continue his research into posthumous brain life and the ability to bring back the dead from the precipice of oblivion using his special 'reagant'. From there, he hooks up with a medical student Dan Cain and begins to test out his serum on increasingly complex subjects, who just happen to be heavily involved with the University and Cain's girlfriend. Obviously, this is all going to go downhill, and in the course of the movie's 95 minute runtime, it surely does, while conveniently setting up sequels through the final scene. I haven't really checked out the sequels, and as usual with horror franchises, they never seem to be that highly regarded, so approach them with caution if you happen to enjoy this and seek out more.

Aside from the cheesy but effective makeup and special effects work, it is Combs himself who really steered my enjoyment of Re-Animator through the duality of his character. Is he a cold, sick fuck playing God? Or does he actually wish the best for humanity, to defeat death, and just have a very anti-social way of going about it? Jeffrey handles this with a balance of delicate disconnection and moments of explosive intensity, and even though he's indisputably tongue in cheek, he makes a pretty predictable plot all the more fun. David Gale as Dr. Carl Hill is also enormously creepy and memorable, but the rest of the actors just sort of 'exist', even the alluring scream queen Barbara Crampton who shows a little skin. Richard Band's soundtrack is also excellent, and the opening sequences, which features multi-hued anatomical diagrams in an eerie waltz across the opening credits, is something to behold. It had a reasonable budget for an underground horror flick of its day, and it works well within it, never robbing us of the gore we deserve.

I wouldn't go so far to call Re-Animator amazing, or timeless. It's not Aliens, or The Shining, or The Thing. It never takes itself quite so seriously as the top echelon horror films of the 80s, nor does it have the same sense for morbid pathos as the Romero Dead sequels or The Beyond from Lucio Fulci. But for popcorn horror, with a small cast and simple plot, its certainly worth the time to rent, and it will have no problem appealing to fans of the earlier Peter Jackson or Sam Raimi stuff.

Verdict: Win [8/10]

Hausu (1977)

While the anomalous Hausu (aka 'House') is not the sort of horror film to truly torment the audience, or even really scare them, there's no question that it sticks with you long after you've experienced it, and whether you wound up enjoying or hating it. This is largely in part to the rather unique, over the top cinematography which involves all manner of cheap, half-assed special effects that come off beautifully amateurish, even for the mid to late 70s. Make no mistake, though, these were no accident. Director Nobuhiko Obayashi, who had previously worked exclusively in experimental film, decided that he'd intentionally incorporate such phantasmagoria to transform an average at best plot line into something so completely bonkers that it feels as fresh about 35 years after it was first unleashed as a cult hit in Japanese theaters.

Seriously, you need to see this to believe it. Obayashi's pastiche of circular close-up shots, black and white flashback reels, film overlays, still picture clippings and pure animation is only scraping the tip of the iceberg here, and even at its most tranquil, the film is a cheesy but effective wonder of ill-advised filmcraft that works despite itself. We are transported from the 20 minutes of ridiculously bubbly character development to what is one of the more unique and oddly potent ghost films I've ever seen. Now, let's be clear on this: I generally fucking HATE ghost movies, which rarely abide by any horror rule-set that would create any real tension. It's hard to be afraid when the script has folks eliminated at random by spiritual manifestations that can do just about anything at any given moment, but while Hausu does not necessarily deviate from the formula (which was not commonplace in the 70s, granted), its lavish and peculiar eye candy more than compensates for its corny, sporadic chills.

*Supoirasu ahead*

The story's not a complex one: due to various family situations and scheduling screw-ups, a group of six school girls and a professor chaperon head into the countryside for their Break, to visit one of the girl's Aunts, who happens to live alone and 'crippled' in a sprawling, rustic manor near a watermelon shop. Auntie is not who she seems, the house is haunted, and what's up with the fluffy white cat that happens to appear just about everywhere? The rest you can probably guess, and Hausu soon transforms into a series of deaths and disappearances as the 'House' ingests the girls in various, absurd ways. Not all of the bucket kickings are filmed directly, and this often feels cheap, but where they are presented in all their splendor, like the character 'Melody' (haw haw) being devoured by a piano and then having her disembodied head comment on her fate, are hilarious and subtly disturbing somehow.

The acting is pretty much shit across the boards, overshadowed by all the swirling psychedelic set pieces and special effects, but it by no means cripples the film. What I found mesmerizing were all the odd little details throughout the film, like the guy reading the Horror movie guide on the train ride to the country, the rats exploding out of a cupboard, the lizard being impaled by shards from a chandelier and no one making much of a big deal out of it. How about the bear noodle chef cropping up in one of Mr. Togo (the other chaperon who separated from the girls for some reason)? Or the most unforgettable watermelon chef ever? Or the cat, 'Snowy', who plays a central role in the film. Its movements are remixed to the soundtrack in one scene, and its likeness appears everywhere when the shit hits the fan at about an hour into the film. Its eyes glow green to signify something bad about to happen. Its eyes glow from the various walls of the set, like a haunted house attraction. It spews blood once the character Kung-Fu's amputated leg kicks it, and then another character drowns and dissolves...fully unclothed...in that blood...

Truly, truly a screwy experience, and I don't actually mind the sensory overload in the slightest, but where the film does stutter is with a few of its more cluttered choices, like the scenes of Mr. Togo wandering around in the city which don't have much to do with the central events, or the use of multiple, flaky pop songs used to create drama in the finale. There are so many random details being cast at the audience that some seem silly and disjointed, and as cool as the special effects are, several seem incredibly hack to the point that they're not even ironically amusing. But that aside, Hausu remains a very intriguing view for those into the unique perspective of Japanese cinema, and several of its aesthetic tones were recycled for later, more successful films like Ringu or Uzumaki. From its excellent, psychedelic rock soundtrack laden with jazzy grooves, to the innocent innuendos of its seductive cast, to the the jaw-dropping clamor of its climactic hauntings, Hausu is the very definition of compelling cult horror-comedy.

Verdict: Win [8/10]

Martyrs (2008)

Martyrs is a powerful and divisive French film released a few years back which generated a fair share of buzz among viewers seeking something 'more' out of their horror flicks. While it's loosely rooted in the torture porn genre ala Hostel, what Pascal Laugier has come up with here is a film which begs a question: how much suffering can one individual withstand, and when all hope and sensation has been removed, what is one then left with? Let me preface anything else by stating that this is a grueling, uncomfortable piece, made more for the audience's displeasure than pleasure, and some might have a hard time processing it's central theme. After watching this with my girlfriend, for example, she screamed at me for about an hour, having felt that her spirit was soiled by the film's gruesome assertions. So, just a heads up guys and gals, don't watch this with anyone overly sensitive to pain or terrifying situations.

The film does experience a slight disparity of tone between the first and second acts. In the first half, Lucie (played by the lovely Mylène Jampanoï) is a girl who escaped at a young age from a terrifying torture cult, and decides to exact a bloody revenge later upon those responsible. She is joined by a fellow orphan Anna (Morjana Alaoui), and then we get a bloody 'boxed in' sequence not unlike The Strangers or Funny Games, only there is more to this: Lucie, like many troubled folks, is haunted by visions, one of which causes her to inflict great bodily harm upon her person. This is all very early in the film, and then it takes a strange turn which I'm not going to reveal, but let's just say that Martyrs curiously lives up to its name as it cycles into its metaphysical and conspiratorial elements, and the film curbs from a gore-soaked break-in to something far more trying upon the viewer...

Martyrs wouldn't work if the actresses couldn't pull it off, but both are incredibly believable as they 'live' out this harrowing situation. The camera angles and sets here have been designed to accentuate it's clinical levels of discomfort, and no blood has been spared through the murder and torture sequences. I did feel that there was a bit of a disconnect to its halves, but this only adds to the strange surprises in store, and about the only real complaint I have with the plot is the series of fade in/fade out scenes deeper into its durations which feel exhausting and repetitive. Granted, in any realistic situation like the one that develops here, repetition plays an important role in the victims' suffering, but it's hardly entertaining film-making and, had it been truncated about 5-6 minutes, the picture would have flowed more evenly.

That said, this is one fucked foray into the limits of human endurance, and while it might seem like it's going nowhere, there is actually a convoluted point to it all. I'll repeat that this is not necessarily a film tweaked towards its viewers' 'enjoyment', but a study in audience constitution, one of those rare films that transcends the slasher genre into something far more unexpected and uncanny. You might not 'get it' at first, though it's not incredibly complex, but there are enough scenes of shock and blood to carry forth the attention of even the most jaded gore guru to its closing, bewildering moments, and the makeup and acting here are top notch. The plot itself is not perfect, and a few scenes feel extraneous, but it's worth watching if you've got the stomach for its bewitching pandemonium. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to pick up some candy and flowers to dig myself out of the doghouse.

Verdict: Win [7.5/10]

Mutants (2009)

Not to be confused with other films to bear the same name (like the cheap Michael Ironside flick the same year), Mutants is a French horror film with fairly astounding production values surrounding an admittedly derivative plot that does it no service. As you might guess from looking at the poster, this is a zombie flick, even if these zombies are actually genetically altered cannibals who seem to be technically alive. If that sounds like 28 Days Later, well that's because it really is. The makeup is more impressive here, with transformation sequences that rapidly become the highlight of tension, but if you were to establish that this were set in the same universe as Danny Boyle's cult fave, or Stephen King's The Stand, few would discern a difference. Said scenes of atrocious mutation and mutilation have also been compared with The Fly, which I can also see to an extent.

At any rate, there is much positive to be said for Mutants. Filmed in the highlands of the French region Picardy, the wintry blues and whites of the film give it a tremendous cinematic appeal that instantly hooks the viewer into its stark struggle for survival. The music is well matched to the events, from spikes of eerie ambiance to sweltering post-rock climaxes. The gore is delivered to a satisfying degree, and the makeup job for the mutants is fantastic, especially where it involves the male lead (Marco) played by Francis Renaud. The acting is in general tense and believable, even if there are a few moments at which I want to strangle the female lead Sonia for her decisions. Part of this is due to a twist in the plot, but still...it's well into the 21st century, people, and we know what to do with zombies. Without giving details of the plot away, let's just remember that no undead should be suffered to live. Even if this is not technically an 'undead', you know what to do with that gun. No excuses and no exceptions.

On the other hand, the entire direction of the film's plot becomes predictable within short order. There's a bit of a 'reveal' in there that, once it happens, completely gives away the finale. As well executed as the acting and technical side of Mutants is, I still couldn't help feeling underwhelmed by the story. It's fucking 2009, and we've done this to death already. If you can't come up with a creative (Fido) or warmly comedic (Zombieland) take on the genre, or go really, really big, then you'd might as well go home. The only thing distinct about David Morlet's film is the location in which its set. Candy for the eyes, if not the mind. Also, I felt that a few of the other survivor characters introduced in the film were a bit one-note and unsympathetic, and it really breaks down the suspension of disbelief. You'd think that more of the humans would cling to one another and work together to survive...but about half of these seem to exist only to rack up a higher body count.

At any rate, this isn't a bad way to kill an hour and a half, especially for less demanding horror/gore fans who adore tripe like the Resident Evil series or the lackluster 28 Weeks Later. With a better script involving more twists and turns and perhaps a touch of originality, Mutants might have turned into a top flight foreign horror franchise. But no matter how hard the actors and cameramen try to deliver here, and they do, quite hard, the movie's potential is held in check by its lack of surprises. Watch it for the cinematography, music and performances, but if you're interested in something far more unnerving, interesting and memorable in French horror, go straight for Inside (2007) or Martyrs (2008) instead.

Verdict: Indifference [6/10]

Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964)

I think it would be dishonest to claim that Two Thousand Maniacs! is a 'scary' film, or that it holds up to scrutiny almost 50 years post-release, but for what it's worth, Herschell Gordon Lewis' cult creature was a solid early example of the campy gore and exploitation that was well worth its budget for the time. Having already helmed Blood Feast the year before (1963), a film many avid viewers consider to be the inaugural 'gore' or 'splatter' horror film of its genre, he decided to shift focus away from a solitary killer to...well, a whole lot of them, and the film is certainly one of the forerunners in that entire 'tourists or travelers off the beaten track catch their deaths' niche that has since hatched hundreds of kindred plots.

Without spoiling the story for those that have yet to see it, let's just say that a pair of Yankee strangers, having freshly met on a Southern road trip, are diverted to a small, off the map town called 'Pleasant Valley', along with two younger couples, half of whom do not seem to hold much faith in monogamy. It turns out that they're just in time for a celebration, held for the first time in a century, for which they are the honored guests... By this point, you can probably guess what's going to happen, but let me assure you that Two Thousand Maniacs! goes a little further story-wise than one might expect, to the point that it gets admittedly strange and doesn't really make a whole lotta sense...

*Golly, here come those spoilers I wasn't going to give you*

So, yeah, 'Pleasant Valley' is actually a mass spiritual vendetta against a group of Union soldiers who butchered the inhabitants during the Civil War (100 years prior), being exacted against a handful of innocents who just happen along. I assume it's 'spiritual' since the town disappears once the leads escape a ghastly execution at the hands of the local folk, and several of the hicks hint that they'd be appearing again in the following century when there might be space ships. So, the problem here is why are the ghosts so 'current' to the 20th century? They've got telephone booths and cars, and they dress to the times. How do they know what people are wearing if they are just suddenly manifesting? How are they able to transform the town to look like a quaint and rural Southern local town? Are they reading the tourists' minds of how they should appear?

These questions just aren't answered through the film, and it leaves the impression of a hack job.

*End spoilers*

Fortunately, this 'hack job' obeys one of the fundamental necessities of a good slasher or horror flick: thou must not skimp on the gore. Sure, the poster advertises it as far bloodier than it really is, but for a drive-thru flick in the 60s? Films that merely 'imply' dread and violence are in all honesty bullshit. SHOW us the things we need to be afraid of. EXPOSE us to the butchery and perversion of twisted, carnal minds. How else will we learn to really fear it? To this extent, I can imagine Two Thousand Maniacs! must have solicited a fairly strong reaction from its audience. Limbs are cut, blood pools, and various other executions are meted out on the unsuspecting travelers, including one that...well, without giving too much up, let's just say that I'll never see a barrel or keg in quite the same light again. So, Lewis at least got this right, even if it's not nearly the goriest film you're going to experience.

As for the technical details, Two Thousand Maniacs! comes up predictably short. Like a lot of earlier, low budget flicks, the sound production is hardly top notch, so a lot of the actors feel like they are yelling out most of their lines. This works for the creepy townsfolk, who give off a very New Orleans-like impression, but not so much for our unwilling victims. The camera work is also not top notch, but it gets the job done, and I did enjoy the film's Florida location, but there is no question that this thing feels dated right from the get go. The music is appropriately rustic and light-hearted, providing an appropriate contrast to the bloodshed, and of course, Connie Mason, the lead actress who also appeared in Lewis' Blood Feast, is easy upon the eyes.

Today, Two Thousand Maniacs! serves more as a cult curiosity than a film of tangible qualities. This is not like a Hammer Horror classic, or some timeless b/w monster flick in that you can appreciate hundreds of times and pass onto your children and their children. But to those who are interested in the vintage gore that would later saturate Western slashers, shockers and giallo flicks of the ensuing decades, it might be worth a gander. A lot has been made over the years of analyzing this film's play and influence upon Southern stereotypes and post-Confederate hostility towards the North, but who gives a shit: it's just a fucking movie! And lastly, please, please, heed this advice: if you come across a DETOUR sign that looks hand-drawn or unprofessional, do not for the love of any Gods you venerate take the FUCKING DETOUR!

That tip's on me. Everybody gets one.

Verdict: Indifference [6.25/10]

Gozu (2003)

There are horror films and then there are simply disturbing films. The modern Japanese classic Gozu (cow's head) falls into both categories thanks to the stunning performances of its cast and the direction of Takashi Miike during his prime, when every film he spawned offered a ghastly variety of morbid thrills that not only shocked upon impact, but resonated in the rear lobes of the conscience forevermore. Fusing Miike's strong background in the yakuza genre to an almost Alice in Wonderland journey of sanity extraction, the film explores a number of dark themes through a steady stream of bizarre characters and uncomfortable situations that ultimately revel in a deeply cerebral, almost Freudian gross out. If the 'American Gothic' genre were transplanted to suburban Japan and slowly roasted over Hitchcock's chestnuts on an open fire, with yazuka leads, then it might turn out something like this.

***LACTOSE INTOLERANT SPOILERS***

The plot follows Minami (portrayed by Yûta Sone), who is assigned to escort his higher up Ozaki (the always excellent Sho Aikawa) to a 'disposal' site for yakuza, after it becomes apparent that Ozaki has lost his marbles and gone paranoid schizophrenic (thinking every dog is a 'yakuza attack dog' for example). The order comes from Boss, played by yakuza regular Renji Ishibashi; a womanizing mob boss who can't achieve an erection without shoving a soup ladle up his ass. On the road, Minami is forced to knock out Ozaki after an encounter with a car 'remodeled to kill yakuza'. Since he's apparently killed his former boss and friend, an unforeseen circumstance, Minami stops at a roadside tavern to call for help, in the town of Nagoya. After vomiting from a chicken custard side dish complements of the house (and courtesy of a transexual phantom), Minami discovers that Ozaki's body has disappeared from his car outside. After this, the film becomes a strange procedural investigation, as Minami is forced to team up with the local, odd yakuza crew to track any leads, and it just keeps on getting eerier until the final revenge arc, which I will dare not even hint about here.

Gozu is deep, and like most traditional Japanese cinema, it takes its time to achieve each thrill. Sone doesn't have to do much but stand around confused and weirded out, but to his credit, he pulls off the discomfort very well while maintaining a tough thug exterior. More impressive are Aikawa, whose paranoid glares are simply unforgettable as he stares down a yazuka attack dog or his own boss in the opening credits. Keiko Tomita and Harumi Sone are likewise superb as the innkeeper and her brother that provide lodging for Minami, and the scenes at the inn are among the best. Shohei Hino is also brilliant as local gangster Nose, who suffers from a strange skin discoloration. The music is timid but threatening, and though it moves perhaps a little too slow in some spots, the tension of the film is crafted lovingly, the sets so natural and familiar to suburbia and yet so cluttered full and foreign that they provide the perfect purgatory for these events.

In short, Gozu is an essential viewing experience to any fan of psychological horror and unique movie making, and in my opinion one of Miike's strongest offerings. It's somewhat more understated than Ichi the Killer or Audition, but it compensates its lack of viscera with a more chilling graft of deeply disturbing bewitchment, with a number of scenes and characters you simply cannot forget. I haven't seen the film in English, but even if such a dub exists, I would highly recommend (as always) that you watch it in Japanese with the subtitles. Very well worth your time if you're into strangeness like Uzumaki or Suicide Club, and fascinating to behold, this is perhaps one of the better foreign horror films I've ever seen.

Verdict: Epic Win [9/10]

Zombie Strippers! (2008)

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Necrophagia - Season of the Dead (1987)

Lately I've been craving that wonderful classic death metal sound: lo-fi, airy, punishing, delicious to my ears. While hunting for retro acts, I stumbled across Necrophagia recently, a veteran (since '84!) death/thrash outfit hailing from Ohio. Immediately I was hooked.

The intro begins with some acoustic teasing, and a smattering of dark ambient to get you in the mood. Then, lock up your daughters, get your white Nike hightops and torn acid washed skinny jeans, because from then on it's all 'eavy.

However, in lieu of what you might expect from the band's name and the album art, we have surprisingly byzantine guitar work and lyrics that do not disappoint. Take the opening stanza of "Forbidden Pleasure":

Taking away your scared life
in many ways I shall describe
suffocation decapitation or twist of the knife
nihilsm reigning deep inside

Vocalist Killjoy of, well, countless projects has a conversational, nearly spoken word delivery which lends an interesting facet to Necrophagia. I'd pick out a few favorite tracks, but honestly they are all memorable enough for me to suggest that you just check out the entire album if you're in the mood for some classic horror death metal goodness.

"Ancient Slumber" progresses from the conversational style of singing to a ghoulish growl that sounds very similar to Nocturnus. In fact, this album sounds a lot like their (IMHO) masterpiece The Key, only of course not sci-fi themed.

Anyway, this album packs enough quality riffs and atmosphere into its duration to satisfy any death metal fan. Highly recommended.

Verdict: Epic Win [9/10] (necronomicon, book bound in flesh, source of all that is evil!)

http://www.myspace.com/necrophagiaofficial

Masters of Horror S2 10: We All Scream for Ice Cream (2007)

Two good episodes in a row? I don't know if I can handle this. We All Scream for Ice Cream is adapted from the John Farris short story, and directed by Tom Holland (Fright Night, Child's Play, Thinner). It's enjoyable due to the performance of William Forsythe, and Holland's direction recalls the freaky fun of his earlier work, or the televised version of It, or Killer Klowns from Outer Space.

***CHEERY SPOILERS***

Something is stalking a group of grown men in an average, suburban town. As children, these men were once a group of friends who accidentally got a mentally handicapped ice cream clown killed while playing a malicious trick on him. Buster the clown has a very interesting means of revenge: he appears, usually at night, in his creepy, phantom ice cream truck, and croaks "I Scream...You Scream...We All Scream for Ice Cream" on the loud system, which hypnotizes the neighborhood children. If the children should eat his ice cream, their parents' MELT!

I spoiled it, sure, but it's all obvious from the first 10 seconds of the episode. The main reason to watch this episode is because William Forsythe is fantastic as Buster, both in the flashbacks to living Buster and the psychotic ice cream clown from beyond the grave. You really feel for this poor guy, though I question why one of the 'boys' was killed as he refused to partake in the cruel prank that killed Buster to begin with. Colin Cunningham is pretty good as the troublemaker Virgil, and I enjoyed the scene in which Layne (Lee Tergesen) visited him to figure out what was going on.

We All Scream for Ice Cream is not deep, but it's amusing, just like good old Fright Night. Campy old school horror that you could probably watch with your kids, if you dare...

Verdict: Win [7/10]

Masters of Horror S2 09: Right to Die (2007)

Right to Die is directed by Rob Schmidt, the man who has brought you Eliza Duskhu horror films such as Wrong Turn and The Alphabet Killer. It's one of the stronger episodes of the series, and like Pelts and Pro-Life before it, takes a rather...interesting spin on a popular issue (and this time, successfully).

***RIGHT TO SPOILER***

Cliff Addison (Martin Donovan of Weeds) and wife Abby (Julie Benson of Stargate Universe) are having some relationship problems when Cliff crashes his car, driving off the road and managing to get her burned alive. Her skin is completely melted off and she is kept in the hospital, still breathing, as her husband and mother begin a media battle over her fate.

Well, obviously there are many twists and turns to this story. The couples' relationship issues stemmed from Cliff's infidelity with saucy nurse Trish, which Abby had discovered after the idiot was discovered in the act on his cell phone. Abby may or may not have the ability to use psychic powers to affect those around her, and these powers may even be deadly. There are some further twists which I will keep to myself, and a beautifully gory scene where Dr. Cliff gases Trish and removes all her skin to graft onto Abby.

Right to Die is fun, it's demented, and quite racy. It's not shocking, but the implications are a little frightening. And those of you who have been gawking over Benson's breasts in the first season of Stargate Universe should watch this episode, since there is one very revealing scene that will allow you to finally get it all out of your systems and leave her alone. This was one of the better, consistent episodes of the 2nd season so far. It's not perfect, but it is fun enough.

Verdict: Win [7/10]

Masters of Horror S2 08: Valerie on the Stairs (2006)

Valerie on the Stairs is the 8th episode in season 2 of Masters of Horror, and directed by Mick Garris, the man responsible for giving us this show in the first place. His previous entry, Chocolate, was not one of my favorites of the original season, and though this story was a little more immersive, I found it largely forgettable.

***SPOILERS BLOCK***

Rob Hanisey is an unpublished young author, broke, down on his luck, and dumped by his girlfriend. He gets a rare opportunity to take a room at a place called Highberger House, a sort of boarding house for unpublished authors. This is a cool idea, the coolest in the story...once a resident is published, they have to move out and move on. The other residents of the place include a Southern romance writer, a grumpy old pulp horror/sci-fi author (played well by Christopher Lloyd), and another younger writer.

Rob settles in to a previous tenant's room (who killed himself), and tries to write, but is interrupted when he discovers a beautiful ghost (Clare Grant) who is in distress. The other tenants act like Rob is crazy and tell him to shut up, but it turns out...you guessed it...there is a dark secret! The fair maiden Valerie and her demonic tormentor (Tony Todd basically playing himself) are the product of a collaboration between the three other tenants, a story so vivid that it has taken flesh within Highberger House. Todd begins killing these writers, and it's up to Rob to save the day and get the girl!

As you can see, the story is quite weak...and what's worse, it ends with a pretty ham-fisted attempt at symbolism. Is Rob a real person? Or is he also written into the story? Why is his 'ex-girlfriend' hanging in the demon's crypt, and why did she bite Christopher Lloyd to death? If you really care, kill the 50 minutes and watch the episode. It's not the worst this season, but I was yawning half way through.

Verdict: Indifference [5/10]