zc

JM Cozzoli

A horror genre fan with a blog. Scary.

Interview: LovecraCKed’s Elias Talks

/ Movies (Indie) / Leave a Comment

Lovecrackedmain3_1
Biff Juggernaut Production’s Elias steps into the closet to talk about himself and about his film, LovecraCKed! The Movie. Taking nine aspiring and very independent directors, combining them with a loose theme of Lovecraftian shenanigans, and looping it together with a slightly unpolished reporter just trying to do a story can be quite a challenge.

What turned you on to the horror scene?

When I was a teenager I got a job at a movie theater where I became friends with an extremely talented fellow by the name of Chad Bernhard who is also the frontman for the band,
THINGS OUTSIDE THE SKIN, and a frequent collaborator on BiFF JUGGERNAUT productions. He also was and continues to be a raving horror nut, and he introduced me to the likes of Carpenter, Raimi, Jackson, and Romero to name a few. It didn’t take long before I was completely suckered in.

Which horror films are your favorites and why?

“Dead Alive”, “Dawn of the Dead” (’78), “The Fly” (’86), “The Thing” (’82), “The Haunting” (’63), “Audition”, “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” (’74), “Twitch of the Death Nerve”… Those are a few that come to mind.

Dead Alive” is just a wonderfully entertaining film that never seems to grow old for me. The orchestration of that flick is just flawless and often mind boggling. It’s really amazing what Jackson did with such a low budget. No one else can make films on such a large scale with such a low budget so effectively, and he’s incredibly versatile, a true master of his medium who’s always expanding.

Romero’s “Dawn of the Dead” is my favorite of that series so far. Such a great setup with such strong characters and underlying social commentary. Cronenberg’s “Fly” chronicles a kind of social and human disintegration, the pursuit of knowledge to find only destruction, despair and madness.

The setting and setup of Carpenter’s “The Thing” make for great conflict and suspense, and this combined with a great ensemble cast and some of the coolest special fx ever put to film make for an extremely memorable experience. Robert Wise’s orginal “Haunting” for me is all about atmosphere and doing more with less.

The only films I think have ever come close to capturing the eerie otherworldly suspense generated by that flick are “The Woman in Black” and “The Mothman Prophecies” and “The Exorcism of Emily Rose” – all great flicks in my opinion. Miike’s Audition lured me in and left me with a lasting feeling of dread after viewing it, and few films have ever done that.

The “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” – need I say more? For me, it still remains one of the most effective and chilling horror films ever made. Love the atmosphere of that film… the sounds, the claustrophobic, deathlike feeling of that house… extremely creepy.

I like how they build slowly up to Leatherface and then you have that unforgettable intro… and the run through the woods… that whole f**ked up family slowly revealed to us… Yes I am a big fan of that flick! I can’t say the remake retained many of the qualities that made the original so strong, it really fell short by a lot, to say the least. Perhaps the prequel will be a step up, but I’m not holding my breath.

I’ve nothing against remakes, but it’s a shame when they get churned out without any real finesse or vision. But then that’s just the studios trying to cash in, so its nothing one shouldn’t expect in the end. I’ll keep looking out for the few that always set themselves apart. Lastly, “Twitch of the Death Nerve” from the master Mario Bava. The prototype for the modern slasher film wrapped in the inky black cloak of Giallo. Brutal deaths, masterful cinematography, mystery, suspense, and a wicked ending. Also love Bava’s little seen, posthumously completed “Rabid Dogs”.

Speaking of directors, which directors influence you the most?

I’d say David Cronenberg, Peter Jackson, Kim Ki-Duk, Takashi Miike and Shinya Tsukamoto, Michael Haeneke, the boys of “Monty Python” and the boys of “South Park”. It’s hard to say exactly how they influence, but they all have had their impact, and continue to do so.

Certainly the sense of humor of “Monty Python” and “South Park” is very much akin to my own, and I take great inspiration in the style and scope of their satire. With the other filmmakers it’s similar. I find fascination with the subjects they cover and how they each tell the story and communicate their ideas to the audience. Seeing all these various visions realized and feeling their effect on me as a viewer and a creative expressive person myself provides me with inspiration and helps fuel and drive my own ideas, thoughts, creations. They all help to set the stage for the next generation and they have set the bar high.

What is it like to conceive, produce, and promote an independent film?

Firstly let me just say that it’s one of the most incredibly euphoric, miserable rewarding, mind-numbing, inspiring, physically exhausting, energizing and exciting things I can think of. Perhaps it’s a little like having a baby and then raising it (at
least I imagine so;), though on a generally smaller scale of time. It’s exhausting, painful and unbelievably fulfilling. You live with this developing film in your head for months and months, writing it out and getting others points of view. You settle on a draft of the script and try to prepare adequately for the production through rigorous task of pre-production planning, and then finally free yourself from this and make a go for it with Production.

On set, on location with what little crew you have, trying to let the script/story guide you and not the other way around. Every inch is often a battle of stamina, will and mind over little finance. You learn to compromise when you have to, and try to know when it’s the right time to do so, and when it’s not. You have to hook into your actors and crew and let the thoughts and ideas flow between everyone, and then get everyone (yourself included) on the same path to the same vision.

You finally wrap and enter the realm of postproduction where films are ruined and reinvented… and you sort it out with feedback from others not so entrenched in the process. You enter the promotional state and realize with a shock (if it’s your first time) that you have entered a realm from which your primitive creative-minded brain desperately wants to escape from.

Nevertheless, you chain unwilling brain to the task at hand and set forth to spread the word of your film through every outlet available to you again and again and again… Then finally when you’ve given it your best, you let the flick go and float on its own, and then you start the next project.

How did you get your start in the film business?

I started out acting and writing when I was a teenager and expanded into filmmaking when I was 19. I moved to NY a couple times: first to pursue acting and later to study film at the School of Visual Arts, where I graduated in 2000. That’s the boring answer.

I got started ultimately because of a strong desire to express myself and in turn bring about reactions from others. To make people think, laugh, cry, shriek, gasp, giggle, and feel queezy! To fill brains with all sorts of buzzing and zapping sensations! Thanks for listening – and for watching, too! Thanks to Zombos Closet of Horror Blog for the forum and for all their support of independent horror! (ZC Note: thank you, it’s our pleasure, and that of our readers.)

What is it about Lovecraft’s work that inspired you to do LovecraCKed?

I’ve admired Lovecraft’s stories for many years. I’d planned to do a feature adaptation of one of them a few years back, but that fell through. The running doc/spoof narrative of “LovecraCked! The Movie” was inspired by the fact that hardly anyone I ever spoke to about Lovecraft ever knew who he was unless they were a genre fan. The average person usually had never heard of him.

Considering this and all the influence he’s had on modern day horror film and fiction, it seemed like a subject ripe for parody. Later, after most of the doc/spoof was shot, I decided to expand the whole project into a feature length anthology, and open it up to other filmmakers.

Nine directors were involved, each directing their segment of LovecraCKed. What were the challenges you faced, both as writer and overall director for your film, when working with such diverse talent?

The 9 segments/shorts were all created independently of one another by different filmmakers. I was not involved directly in these productions. My main task was the selection and organization of the films for the anthology, and in a few instances, some editing as well. The big challenge was to find the films and filmmakers and assemble an anthology that worked as well as possible.

What production challenges did you face in bringing LovecraCKed to completion?

Really just putting together the whole project and seeing it through to completion. I spent an unhealthy amount of time hunched over my keyboard typing madly and sleepily! Obtaining the necessary releases, and making a lot of format conversions also took some time.

There were many little details to deal with, none of which are likely very interesting, but extremely time consuming and brain-mashing nonetheless. Promoting the film has also been a lot of work – probably as much as putting it all together… and I’m still promoting as we speak! I’ve become a movie whore, I tell you!!!

What future projects are you working on?

Well promoting this one is taking up most of my time right now, but I have plans to participate in another anthology project, which is being put together by one of the other filmmakers, Justin Powers. I also have an extra incomplete segment that I shot for “LovecraCked! The Movie” as a backup, which is crying out to be included in an extended edition of the flick. I’d like to get rolling on a new feature soon as well, it’s just a matter of what fits best financially, creatively, etc.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
The Beginning (2006)

/ Movies (Horror) / 1 Comment

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie posterZombos Says: Very Good

In the cinema of the helpless, Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning reaches a new benchmark in unrelenting, stinking-bloody-abattoir-of-pain, horror. I winced at the slimy grimy blood-soaked chaos in Speak No Evil; and I squirmed in my seat during the guest suite scenes in Hostel. But I became physically ill while watching the particularly nightmarish scene in the basement, where Leatherface methodically, silently, carves a Thanksgiving turkey–except it was not a turkey he was carving up and it wasn’t a day to be thankful for.

Perhaps the grainy hand-held camera scenes and tight close-ups in the film made me a little queasy to begin with. Or perhaps it was the way the camera lingers while dark, syrupy blood pours from mangled bodies, soaking into the ground, into the carpeting. I wondered how they were going to get those stains out of the carpet. They are the Hewitt family; an insane bunch of cannibalistic rednecks always playing with their dinner. I wondered if they cared about the stains at all.

Tcmtb06

It is 1969. Two friends are taking one long, slow trip to the war in Vietnam by way of Texas. Along for the ride are their girlfriends, a few desires, and impending doom. The Hewitt family has been going through a series of setbacks as their town and way of life disintegrates around them. The meat packing plant, the town’s primary source of jobs is shut down and townsfolk have nowhere else to go but away. The Hewitts refuse to leave, and young–and really huge for his age–Tommy (Andrew Bryniarski), their disfigured and misfit adopted son, refuses to stop pounding and slicing meat, whether bovine or two-legged kind.

When told he has to leave the meat packing plant, he expresses his unhappiness by wielding a sledge hammer in a brutal scene of shattered bones, muscle, and skull. Young Tommy has found a new hobby.

Tcmtb03His stepdad has found a new hobby also. Seems the last sheriff had to leave his position rather suddenly, so Hoyt takes a fancy to the badge–after he cleans the blood off it. R. Lee Ermey plays Hoyt Hewitt with such malicious evil glee he  steals the movie. Armed with a shotgun, badge, and dark sunglasses, he’s one determined patriarch who needs to put food on the table. After that nasty business in Korea that kept him alive when food was scarce, he and Tommy seem to be a match made in hell for getting that food.

In a text book example of why you should never take your eyes off the road while driving at high speed when being chased by a gun-toting biker chick, both the Vietnam-bound friends and their girlfriends are brought to the attention of Sheriff Hoyt. He takes them home to meet the family.

The truly scary thing about dysfunctional families in horror films is that they always function well together–in that insane, clannish us against them kind of way. Mama Hewitt and Uncle Monty (Terrence Evans) go along with Hoyt and Tommy. When bodies and body pieces start piling up, they just make soup and lots of it. Poor Uncle Monty is the only one to get his comeuppance in a sudden and graphically grotesque chainsaw game of long and short, but this is the prequel, of course, to New Line Cinema’s 2003 version of Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Tcmtb04 In Tobe Hooper’s 1974 film that helped usher in the slasher sub-genre, the battle between the cannibalistic clan and their prospective victims was shown mostly by implication and without explicit gore. It was the non-stop, frenetic cat and mouse pacing that shifted the genre into a new direction. In Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, the frenetic cat and mouse pacing is here, but now combined with lingering and quite disturbing scenes of very explicit gore. If it’s dead, it’s red: if it’s not dead, it’s also red. Lots of red here, oozing all over the place. According to Wikipedia, 17 scenes were cut from the final film to drop it from NC-17 to R. I think they missed a few.

A key scene in the 1974 film, which is not duplicated in the 2003 remake is included here: the family get-together for dinner. It is a macabre tableau where Mama Hewitt feeds Uncle Monty with a spoon, and one unconscious victim, one victim that’s lost her mind–along with most of her teeth–and another victim have to watch their friends get bouillabaissed; only this time it is not played with black humor. Nothing in this film is played with black humor.

Tcmtb02

Being the beginning of Leatherface, we get to see Tommy putting on his new face–graphically. The squishing ripping sounds are quite vibrant. His first use of the chainsaw is also depicted with verve.

The ominous score highlights the mayhem and the acting is top-notch, feeding off R. Lee Ermey’s sadistic Sheriff Hoyt. If you buy popcorn, I recommend you eat it before sitting down. You won’t touch it while watching this film. You will also never ever be able to listen to another rendition of “Hush Little Baby, Don’t You Cry” without cringing.

The Last Broadcast (1998)

/ Movies (Indie) / Leave a Comment

The Last Broadcast

Zombos Says: Very Good

Is the following fact or fiction? Two young movie makers use a desktop PC and less than nine hundred dollars to produce the first all-digital documentary-styled horror film in 1998?

It’s fact. A few months before The Blair Witch Project brought documentary style horror to the forefront, The Last Broadcast presented a chilling account of three bloody murders that happened one cold night in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. Beginning as a fictitious documentary about the Jersey Devil Murders using salvaged video footage, interviews, and police evidence, the film’s twist ending reveals the real murderer–or does it?

Using Photoshop to enhance scenes, consumer-grade video recorders, and lots of post-production doctoring on a desktop PC, Stefan Avalos and Lance Weiler digitally composed their thriller using mostly non-actors, Weiler’s mom, and anything not nailed down. The final product is an eerie, slow-building, story that takes a sudden left turn to reveal the true murderer. According to the audio commentary on the DVD, seven clues are in the film pointing to the murderer. I missed all seven.

Technology plays an important part within the film itself, first as visual and auditory information is manipulated to create the pseudo-documentary structure of the film, and then as impetus for the events within it.

 

The film begins as a probing documentary by director David Leigh (played with aplomb by David Beard), who asks the question, “Did Jim Suerd commit the murders?” The profile of Suerd–troubled childhood, a loner, and computer nerd fascinated by the Internet and magic tricks–points to an unstable individual who may be capable of cold-blooded murder. But the film leaves you wondering who the documentary was really about.

Fact or Fiction is a public-access cable show hosted by two it’s-always-Saturday hosts (think Wayne’s World here)–Avkast and Wheeler, who are searching for a way to keep their show on the air (although they do sell a lot of t-shirts). Initially a kitschy hit about two slackers discussing weird stuff, the topics are getting stale and its popularity is waning.

Looking for any hook to bring back viewers, the hosts turn to Internet Relay Chat so viewers can send suggestions for what the show should investigate next. One suggestion, to do a live show from the Pine Barrens of Southern New Jersey in search of the Jersey Devil, the legendary creature who inspired the name of the New Jersey Devils ice hockey team, intrigues the show’s hosts, and soon has them assembling a crew to investigate.

The crew is comprised of Jim Suerd, a fan of the show and self-professed psychic, and Rein Clackin, audio technician. Suerd is the odd one–oddest one–of the bunch. He’s not quite fully in the here and now. Avkast and Wheeler use him as a psychic bloodhound to lead them deep into the woods of the Pine Barrens in search of the best spot to see the Jersey Devil.

As the documentary unfolds, a reenactment of the trip is shown using video footage shot by Avkast and Wheeler: they recruit the team members and focus on Suerd, who goes into a psychic fit. As the team assembles and preparations are made, the documentary moves to the fifteen hours of recovered footage from the ill-fated night in the woods. In the now familiar cinema verite style of shaky close-ups, scene ambiguity, and quick-cut action snippets, Avkast, Wheeler, Suerd and Clackin are shown trying to find a suitable location for camp, bitching about this or that, and suddenly finding they are not alone in the very cold, very dark Pine Barrens.

Enough is shown or intimated to give you a nice creepy feeling. Throughout it all, director David Leigh’s stoic voice intones the police evidence for arresting and convicting Suerd, the lone survivor, then asks questions about the assumed guilt of Jim Suerd. Just when you think the answers are going to remain unclear, the film shifts from documentary perspective to third-person, and follows the restoration of a critical piece of video that may show the killer’s face, and the dedicated forensic video technician working to make it happen. The denouement leaves no doubt as to who the killer is. In a sudden and very brutal scene the killer is revealed.

What stands out are the performances by the non-actors involved, especially Weiler’s mom. They do a credible job creating an air of authenticity for the documentary. The slow pacing is mitigated by the interesting characters, their backstories, and the shift from the documentary investigating Suerd to the reenactment of the trip, then to the recovered video footage. The twist ending, in both its shift in perspective and sudden revelation, is a bold move. The final scene returns us to the Pine Barrens and leaves you with uncertainty and bewilderment. The Last Broadcast is a worthy entry in the cinema of horror.

The Heretic DVD:

Three short featurettes stand out in particular: the Pre-production, Post-production, and Distribution discussions by Avalos and Weiler are lively and enlightening. In Pre-production, they talk about their discovery of the actor to play Suerd (Jim Seward) in the aisle of a video store, and how they lighted scenes using Chinese Lanterns to create a soft light that could be manipulated according to the wattage used. In Post-production, they discuss their extensive use of Photoshop to add gore effects to scenes, and how they composed the various police evidence used in the documentary on their PC. In Distribution, a very interesting discussion of how they fought to remain purely digital presages the current state of digital film distribution.

Two audio commentaries, one from 1998 and another for this release add to a well thought out presentation, as well as an entertaining mini-comic.

Chindi Remembers Charles Grant

/ Main / Leave a Comment

West Nelson (aka Chindi to Zombos Closet readers) shares his thoughts on the passing of horror and science-fiction author Charles Grant. Thanks West.   

Charlesgrant

We said good-bye to Charles Grant on Thursday. You can read his obituary here and here, but I’d like to talk about the first time I met him. It was about 10 years ago and I’d been corresponding with his wife, Kathy Ptacek, for some time. She kindly invited me to a party they were having for his 100th book. It was a weekend long affair, but I couldn’t make it on that Friday. I do recall that we were all watching an episode of the X-Files that Friday night. When I saw Charlie’s name on a list of suspects that Mulder was reading, I called Kathy and Charlie to tell them. Of course they’d seen it and the celebratory noise in the background made me regret choosing work over fun.

That night I prepared a couple of pans of spicy sesame noodles with shrimp and scallops and in the morning, I loaded it all up in the car and drove to Newton, NJ. The minute I arrived, I was welcomed with open arms. Not just by Kathy and Charlie, but by their community of friends as well. At some point, I mentioned to Charlie that his work had a Dickensian touch to it. The characters you got to caring about the most were the ones who were doomed, in particular the children. He rather enjoyed that. Later, when discussing his book, Jackals, I stated that it reminded me of the National Geographic film, Eternal Enemies: Lions And Hyenas. He fairly leaped into the air and said he got the idea for the book from that video. We riffed on the name the researchers (Derek and Beverly Joubert) gave the male of the pride. Ntchwaidumela which means “He who greets with fire”. In fact, whenever we’d float past one another that night, we would bow to each other and say “Ntchwaidumela” in a most formal tone.

As for my spicy sesame noodles, they were a hit. Charlie made me promise to send the recipe which I gladly did. Come to think of it, he’s the only person to whom I’ve ever given it.

When the blackout of 2003 occurred, I was in the midst of reading one of his Oxrun collections. Rather than wait for the lights to come on, I settled onto a couch and turned on a flashlight. I finished the book that night and when I went to sleep I had a nightmare I hadn’t had in years. I emailed Charlie about it and told him that I’d decided to finally write it all down. He wrote back and told me that he’d like to see it when I finished it. Sadly, I let life get in the way and I never did finish it.

Years ago, Charlie put out a small print magazine called Haggis. It was a way for his fans to get a glimpse into what was going on behind the scenes of his work. There was also a great deal of fan participation. He organized a virtual wrestling federation. We had to come up with our own characters. Mine was Loup Garou, the werewolf. I described him as George “The Animal” Steele with serious dental issues. Loup was quite tame as long as he was leashed. In truth, I’d forgotten about it until Jet Li’s Unleashed came out. Charlie was kind enough to email me to ask if I’d had anything to do with it.

People like Charlie Grant are never fully appreciated by most of us while they are here. I regret getting so caught up in my own life that I couldn’t take a day to see him when he took ill. “There’s always next weekend”, I kept telling myself. If we are to learn anything from his passing, it should be that we must cherish our friends and family while they’re here. Email and web communities are one thing, but they cannot replace real face to face encounters. It is small consolation that his funeral and the following reception were just the kind of gathering that he would have enjoyed.

We’ll miss you, Charlie. Thanks for everything.

Left In Darkness (2006)
Where’s the Light?

/ Movies (Bad) / 1 Comment

Left In darkness Zombos Says: Fair

Horror fans are intimate with death. Whether sudden or prolonged, subtle or explicit, depicted in hyper-realistic or preternatural artistry, the intention or completion of death is the modus operandi of all horror movies. Often taken to absurd
extremes, it is parodied, glorified, exemplified, and gorified. Sometimes theology is tossed into this terminal stew of misery and body parts. Not much, as that would hold down the body count while characters go through annoying self-reflective dialogs, delaying all the spouting-blood action with cumbersome discussions about life and death, heaven and hell, and why me?

Jason, put down that head! Let’s think about all this! or Freddy, cut that out—no, not like that! That’s not how we communicate. I mean you need to wait until I discuss the raison d’etre of your existence juxtaposed with my hacked-up dead friends—oh, and Tommy, too, who I never liked that much anyway.

Such character introspection in a horror movie tends to muck-up the story and require mental
gymnastics today’s audiences may not be in shape for. It is easier to show death than to explore its boundaries. No lengthy expositions, just nifty death
throes and screams and body parts scattered aplenty. So when a horror movie brings death in close proximity to religious themes such as Heaven and Hell,
otherwise collectively known as ‘the afterlife,’ it needs to justify its story between just enough horrifying action and just enough theological surmising to
move it along in an entertaining, thought-provoking manner.

Left in Darkness fails to live up to this potential. Part of me finds its premise annoying: a devout young woman, Celia (Monica Keena), dies and must find heaven’s entrance before her limbo sanctuary is overrun by damnation. Dying is hard enough. To be forced into playing heaven, heaven, where the hell is heaven, like an Amazing Race
episode with a detour of soul-eating demons wanting to suck you dry, shoots for a target of horror story convenience sans sense. However, there’s also a part of me that finds it an interesting dogmatic challenge to encompass it onscreen with sufficient suspense, terror, and ecclesiastical justification to warrant this wicked situation.

It could make for one hell of a horror movie, especially if you’re an atheist.

But the pivotal question almost every horror movie ignores is where’s God in all this? And this movie ignores that question, too.

Riddle me this, horror fan: Why is it in every horror movie where you have demons and devils in the game, God’s always on the sidelines while the Devil’s players are hot in the game?

God drops a few cryptic clues to help her, but I’d be screaming for brawny angels with flaming swords instead. And why is it HER battle?

Celia is an unhappy dead person. In flashback we see her in a cemetery reluctantly visiting her deceased mother who died giving birth to her. Her grandfather Joe (Tim Thomerson) is with her. He raises her after her dad abandons her. Joe asks her to talk to her mom, but she refuses and runs away, right into oncoming traffic. She is saved
from premature death by an invisible boy named Donovan (David Anders). He acts like a protecting angel keeping her safe most of her life.

On her twenty-first birthday, Celia joins a friend for a party at the local frat house. Frat boys spike her drink and rape her unconscious body. Too much of the
drug is used and she dies from an overdose. She wakes up, realizes she’s dead, and now must search for a way into heaven. Clumsy jump-cuts and fast-motion scenes
don’t aid her struggle and fail to hide lapses in story logic and budgetary shortfalls. Donovan, her childhood savior appears. So does Joe. But Joe, after
explaining the game’s rules to her, turns into a demon. Donovan tells her Joe’s soul has been eaten by a demon who digested all of Joe’s memories and feelings.
He explains the frat house in the netherworld she’s now in is her sanctuary until 2am. After that, the soul-eating demons can enter and gobble her up. How
or why Joe became a demon is not explained.

At least in Beetle Juice the Maitlands get an Afterlife Handbook. Celia has to wing it without even Cliffs Notes. Donovan is not much help either. He pressures her to
do what he wants. And why she only has until 2am to find the physical doorway, stairway, or closet to heaven is not clear. Why she even needs to go through all this trouble is not explained. She’s been a good girl.

Why does God need her to play detective?

Donovan does help her fight soul-eaters while she makes up her mind whether to trust him or not. She lets him into the frat house sanctuary—he couldn’t enter until she okayed it—and he tells her she needs to go to the basement to save herself.

Sure, why not? The DARK basement.

How dumb do the writers think we are? If this is their idea of foreshadowing, it’s done with a sledgehammer.

The man who caused her death commits suicide and joins her in the sanctuary. The natural tension such a meeting would generate is not explored here. Instead, it’s more like a Ghost Whisperer episode: metaphysical connotations, emotional confrontations, and appropriate dialog simply don’t apply.

The spirits of her grandfather and mom pop in and out to offer more cryptic clues to help her find heaven’s entrance and test her stress level telling her to hurry up, time’s
running out. Her sanctuary starts winking out here and there, letting soul-eaters in. Any potential tension or suspense during all this is never nail-biting because Steven Monroe’s pacing is like a TV movie with scenes timed for commercial breaks.

Boil it all down to the bone and it’s about Celia making a choice.

She needs to listen to her grandfather, or her mom, or her guardian angel, or the voice within herself. Why she needs to do this is never explored. At least if she was
an atheist I could relish the irony of her situation.

Like the afterlife, this movie is a complete mystery. Just not a good one.

Jigoku (1960)
A Hell of a Movie

/ Movies (Drive-in) / Leave a Comment

 

Jigoku movie posterZombos Says: Very Good

Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place; poor theology student Shiro (Shigeru Amachi) can’t seem to keep from going to hell and taking everyone else with him. The Criterion Collection brings Nobuo Nakagawa’s 1960 surrealistic terror and damnation cult classic, Jigoku, to DVD.

Like a nightmare, the film takes twists and turns that defy visual logic and story sense, plunging you—along with Shiro—into an absurdest world with no possible exit. Before you watch the film, I strongly recommend reading the essay by Chuck Stephens in the included booklet and watch the documentary Building the Inferno on the DVD.

Jigoku is not a film to see on an empty mind.

Perhaps it’s Shiro’s indecisiveness hastening his descent. The poor man is not a happy camper and, as he broods, his fiance, family members, and acquaintances suffer the consequences of his brooding. Then there is Tamura, Shiro’s evil friend. With friends like him, as the saying goes, you are sure to wind up in hell before breakfast. Tamura has an eerie way of popping up unexpectedly, and knowing all the dirt on everyone. Who, or what, is he?

But which hell are we talking about here? Every religion has its own claim to the greener pastures and turgid rivers of bubbling corruption. For Shiro, hell is a tenth-century Buddhist’s depiction of nastiness, complete with images from thirteenth-century Japanese Hell scroll paintings—with multiple levels of torture.

Bargain Basement, all out for dismemberment, disembowelment, and peeling-you-like-a-grape forever and ever; next stop, eye-gouging and tickling your feet until you up-chuck.

I never knew Buddhists had it in them. We need one to make a horror movie.

Shiro’s journey to torment begins with his insistence that Tamura drive down a bad road. Their car hits a gangster. Shiro implores Tamura to stop, but he speeds away, telling Shiro no one saw the accident, so why stop? But the gangster’s mom saw it all, and notes the license plate. She tells his gun moll she saw who did it and soon the two are planning to kill the killers.

Shiro, guilt-ridden, tells his fiancé, Yukiko (Utako Mitsuya), that he killed a man. He blames himself for the accident even though Tamura was driving the car. He insists they go to the police station and he insists they take a taxi, though his fiance would much rather walk. The taxi driver promptly steers the car into an unyielding tree and his fiance promptly dies calling his name.

Shiro now has more guilt to weigh on him. He suffers from lots of guilt, but we never know why. Just because he feels guilty most of the time, that’s no reason to send him to hell, is it?

Love-making out of wedlock is a hellish offense, perhaps, and his fiancé was pregnant.

As Shiro’s guilt-ridden brooding consumes him, he receives word that his mother is dying. He visits his family home outside Tokyo. We meet the odd inhabitants of the old-age home run by his unscrupulous father. His father is also riding his mistress to exhaustion as his wife lies quietly dying in the next room. Hell for sure, that one, guaranteed; and a hell-way ticket for everyone Shiro meets, including the unethical doctor, corrupt cop, and daughter of the drunken painter who paints scenes of hell in his spare time. Adding to Shiro’s angst is how the painter’s daughter looks exactly like Yukiko.

The gangster’s mom and moll find him. The gun moll confronts him on a wooden suspension bridge hanging high above a rocky chasm.

Any self-respecting horror-head knows where this is going.

In an almost comical scene, the moll trips over her own high-heeled feet just as she is about to shoot Shiro. Down she goes, and goes and goes, until she smacks into the rocks below. Creepy Tamura shows up to gloat over the incident and heap more guilt on to Shiro’s back. He and Shiro get into a tussle and down Tamura goes, and goes, and goes.

Smell that brimstone charcoal firing up for Shiro?

Up until now, Nakagawa filmed his characters together in twos or threes, with tight, sparsely decorated sets. He now opens up to show the evening party revelry at the old-age home, shifting between the carousing residents and a small party of shady characters, including his father, who served the home’s residents with tainted fish, his mistress, the immoral doctor, corrupt cop, Shiro, Yukiko look-alike, and—hey, wait a minute, what’s that gangster’s mom doing here? And what’s that she’s carrying? Looks like a big jug of—DEATH!

No, don’t drink it you fools!

Too late.

Suddenly, creepy—looking kind of dead—Tamura shows up again, but he isn’t gloating this time. He does manage to shoot Yukiko-look-alike to death. While Shiro strangles Tamura for that the gangster’s mom strangles Shiro.

With it looking like a Three Stooges skit, everyone winds up in hell.

And what a hell it is for a 1960’s film.

Nakagawa is called the founding father of Japanese Horror for his visual extremes of torment. Poised on the bank of the river Sanzu, Shiro and all those that fit into that hand-basket with him must now unpack and settle into their uncomfortable eternal accommodations.

No crowding please, there’s plenty of torment and pain for everyone.

With annoying demons sticking a pitchfork up your butt, or lopping off hands here and there—and let’s not forget the boiling and bubbling hot-tubs of blood (my favorite!)—this is Club Dread for the damned dead.

Need a beautifying skin peel? No problem, they’ll remove it all and leave chunky bloody bits for added zest. Need a pedicure? Easy, just go for a walk in a field of razor sharp needles growing like blades of grass. A field of feet sticking up out of the ground, while running hordes of annoying commuters not knowing which stop is theirs, embellish the toxic landscape. Nakagawa, and Kurosawa the production designer, stretch their minimal budget to its limits and create a horrific inferno comprised of jarring images, colors, and torments.

As each person is condemned to damnation for their sins and tortured in gory close-ups unusual for 1960s Japanese horror cinema, Nakagawa presents a nonsensical and almost non-linear montage of the netherworld. Is he winking at us? Perhaps he is telling us that religions telling people they must suffer eternal, barbaric tortures for daring to disobey religious edicts are ludicrous and cannot be taken seriously?

Shiro is told he must rescue his unborn daughter as she floats down the river of blood. Along the way, he meets both Yukiko and Yukiko look-alike, and Tamura.

Is Tamura a demon? Or Shiro’s doppelganger? Or just some really evil person?

Nakagawa mixes it so you never really know. He also ends with lotus blossoms floating through the air, a discordant image given their symbolic meaning of purification and rebirth. He leaves Shiro hanging, literally, as he tries to save his unborn daughter, now caught in the netherworld. Yukiko and Yukiko look-alike swirl parasols and smile as lotus blossoms float all around them.

Nakagawa’s film is both art-house and nonsense at the same time. He sends everybody to hell and has a rousing good time doing it in this Manga-stylized film.

 

Pretend We’re Dead
Capitalist Monsters In American Pop Culture
Book Review

/ Books (Non-fiction) / Leave a Comment

PretendZombos Says: Excellent

If you can read only one non-fiction horror genre book this year, first I strongly suggest you reexamine your priorities, then second, I highly recommend you pick up Annalee Newitz’ Pretend We’re Dead: Capitalist Monsters in American Pop Culture. Now I warn you, you will need to really think while reading this book, which is one of the necessities for discovering fresh insights into the inner workings of what makes horror go bump in the night.

Now mind you, I didn’t say you will need to agree with everything Annalee Newitz posits in this encompassing examination of sociological and economic forces pushing on our cinematic realizations of the undead (zombies), the indifferent (serial killers), and the insane (mad doctors); but if you disagree, you better be prepared to argue why as well as she does.

 “I’m a zombie, you’re a zombie, we’re all zombies too”. Repeat these words over and over again to the tune of Dr. Pepper playing in your head. Now you’re ready.

If you work in a sterile corporate office you will embrace Newitz’ ideas: if you work in a dull gray cubicle world for a pittance allotted by CEOs who walk away with unjustified millions, you will understand her reasoning; if you’ve gone through the demeaning and demoralizing experience ironically called ‘the performance review,’ given by the-company-is-my-life, alienated and mostly clueless manager who (only funny in The Office) will quickly sell you out to sell themselves up that dubious corporate ladder, you will nod your head in agreement with her arguments.

For that dog biscuit reward most of us roll over and play dead for everyday, we do it in order to survive the dullness, the inanity, and the inherent humiliation of our daily work life. So is it any wonder the monsters we see on the golden screen are the products of our collective economic misery and aspirations? Or why they pursue their psychotic and body count careers with such workmanlike aplomb and enthusiasm?

…

Pretend We’re Dead
Capitalist Monsters In American Pop Culture
Book ReviewRead More »

Universal Monsters 75th Anniversary at SDCC 2006

/ Main / Leave a Comment

Monsters_1
You would never know it is the 75th Anniversary of the Dracula and Frankenstein films with how Universal Studios is “promoting” this milestone, but at the San Diego Comic Con, they remembered and celebrated with Forry and a panel of fans. Wish I had attended.

And another thing…I wonder why Universal Studios has not capitalized on their wealth of classic horror monsters in their theme park. When will Universal Studios wake up and smell the freshly turned earth? Being home to a bunch of classically scary icons like Dracula, Frankenstein’s Monster, the Wolfman and the Creature, you would think they should have come up with haunted house and scarefest attractions by now that would make an awesome bunch of monster house rides.

Hell, imagine a Creature from the Black Lagoon attraction similar to Disney’s Jungle Cruise, or walking through the streets of an old Transylvanian village, ala Disney’s Fantasy Land. Every so often you could have actors running through the streets with flaming torches (or safer reasonable facsimiles) chasing after Frankenstein’s Monster. Imagine a ride built around the movie Them!, where you fight giant ants, or a frightening tour of Dracula’s castle (Todd Browning version, of course). I love the Mummy ride, but there are more monsters, you know. Perhaps, with the new Creature and Wolfman remakes on the way, more classic monster attractions will become a reality.

Then again, they did do Van Helsing.

The Maid (2005) Those Damned Domestics

/ Movies (Ghostly) / Leave a Comment

The Maid movie poster

Zombos Says: Very Good

I always make the mistake of picking up the
phone. If I would just let it ring and ring, and let voicemail kick in, I’d be fine. I had a lapse in judgement, what else can I say?

“Look,” my editor told me over the phone,” you’re seriously behind in your reviews. I’ve got DVDs coming out of my—oh, good god!” I heard him gasp.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“It’s the ghost of Mae Nak, she’s pissed you haven’t reviewed her movie yet. Wow, you’ve got quite a hole in the head there,”

“What? Me?”

“Not you, the ghost. She’s got this J-Horror thing going on, and a gaping hole right in the middle of her head.”

“Fine,” I said. “Tell her I’ll get to the review as soon as I can. Not like I’m getting paid for this, you know.”

“She’s not buying it. She hissed you still get free DVDs so stop the crap. Hey, cut that out! Look, I’m just the editor, Zoc’s the one you should—ouch, stop!” he yelled.

I had to hold the cell phone away from my ear as things were getting a bit loud. There was a scream or two, then silence.

“Hello? Hello? Are you still there?” I asked. A loud hissing sound, followed by a crash of glass and some foul-sounding foreign language sputtered from the phone, then it went dead. Oh, well, I thought, that’s that. I was wrong.

I turned around and found the ghost of Mae Nak floating a few feet in the air from me. She definitely was not a happy camper. I can’t remember any Asian ghosts that ever were, come to think of it. They are always out for revenge, or retribution, or something else equally nasty. Not seeing a good ending to all this, I started to think faster than Bugs Bunny.

“That’s a nasty hole in her head, isn’t it,” I said.

Mae Nak wailed a frightful one. Banshees had nothing over her in that department.

“Okay, look. I can get to the review today. I’ll even toss in a review of The Maid for good measure. Just stop pestering me so I can get back to work.

Mae Nak nodded, floated over to my office attic’s door, and then through it, as easily as a hot knife cuts through butter.

I picked up the phone to see if my editor was still alive.

I could hear a whimpering sound, followed by labored breathing, punctuated by “oh, sh*t, oh, sh*t” over and over again.

“Good, you’re still there,” I said. “I’ll send you the review for The Maid before Mae Nak comes back. What? Broken? Well then, use your good hand, then.”

I hung up and quickly finished the review.

An effective ghost story should have an air of mystery to it: why is there a ghost? What purpose does the ghost have in haunting a particular place or person? A modicum of pathos is also important for a truly emotional turn of the screw, as a ghost cannot only be vindictive or vengeful, but must have sadness about it; something that we can empathize that will make the haunting all the more tragic, as well as spooky.

Gore also must be kept to a minimum as an effective ghost story relies on creating and sustaining a balanced mood of tension. Too much gore and the balance shifts into rapid moments of revulsion and anxiety, whereas a good ghost story relies on impression and subtlety, implying more than is actually shown.

The mystery in The Maid builds slowly and inexorably toward a climax that brings us from where we thought we were to an unexpected place that surprises us. Director and writer Kelvin Tong, while using the now standard shock cuts of ghosts sitting, floating and crawling, keeps the gore factor down and raises and twists Rosa’s (Alessandra de Rossi) impressions of what’s happening in this first significant horror movie from Singapore.

Rosa is a young Philippine maid who travels to Singapore to work for the Teo family. While traveling as a stranger in a strange land is stressful enough, her trip is made more vexing by the timing of it. She arrives at the Teo residence during Hungry Ghost Month, a time when the gates of hell unlock and all those annoying relatives you really didn’t want to see anymore return.

Of course, there are ways to appease the ghosts, and Rosa, not at all familiar with the rituals that the community follows during this preternatural month, sweeps up ashes that were better left alone. No sooner than you can say boo! she’s seeing dead people, or sitting in their reserved chairs for the opera, or hearing strange sounds and watching doors fly open as they pull their usual scare tactics. Let’s face it, if you’re dead,
scaring the living can be lots of fun. What else can you do?

As she becomes more and more unnerved by all this, she notices a neighbor that runs away from her, and the Teo family begins to act a little odd. Which is quite a change from her initial entry into the musically-inclined family; who, with their co-workers in the opera, broke into song upon her arrival. But now the Teo family is becoming distant, and more
controlling.

And then there is Ah Soon (Benny Soh), the little-boy that can’t grow up with his body, the Teo’s son. He develops an infatuation with Rosa, and Rosa plays along with his childish behavior. Which isn’t a good thing to do.

Through the increasing ghostly activity, Rosa realizes one ghost in particular is trying to get her attention. But why? Like any well-crafted mystery there are clues along the way, but of course you never notice them until the summary flashbacks at the end, then you kick yourself for not realizing what’s happening

Okay, I kick myself for not realizing what’s happening.

In too many American horror movies, it’s the undead or loony-toon psycho, and the soon-to-be-dead that are prominent in the story, along with a modicum of T&A and flashy gore for good measure. The Maid eschews all that and focuses on the relationships between the living and the dead, and Rosa, who doesn’t disrobe at any point in this movie (take note of my disappointment here), or curse using soap-worthy words, or act in any way like “I’m just here to be killed” kind of fashion. Instead, Tong builds his story on the traditions and eeriness inherent in Hungry Ghost Month, and provides quiet moments of uncertainty at first, then less quiet moments as Rosa realizes the supernatural world is real and uncomfortably close.

But is she in danger from the ghosts or from the Teo family? Or both? Her struggle to find out makes Tong’s story a suspenseful, slightly scary, and very entertaining traditional ghost story to watch.

Trilogy of Terror (1975)

/ Streaming/TV/Mobile / Leave a Comment

Trilogy of Terror

Zombos Says: Very Good

The year 1975 was a banner year for horrorheads. Stephen King’s Salem’s Lot was chewing up the bookstalls, a hungry and demonic shark was chewing up anything that moved in Jaws, and the gender-bender Rocky Horror Picture Show, with Meat Loaf, was chewing on some tasty morsels of iconic horror like a bat out of rock and roll hell.

And on television, horror and terror were being introduced to a new generation of viewers by producer and director Dan Curtis. In 1967 he thought long and hard on his failing soap opera, Dark Shadows, and out of desperation tossed in a vampire to shake things up. Sure, when all else fails, call in the monsters.

It worked.

Dark Shadows, with the help of passionate and pathetic vampire, Barnabas Collins, grabbed the ratings like a banshee screaming in the wind. Like many boys in 1975, I became hooked with the goings-on at the decaying Collinwood Mansion, and I hurried home from school to watch each episode. I even took Barnabas as my Confirmation name. And while the priests thought I took the name of Saint Barnabas, one of the first prophets and teachers of the church at Antioch, I knew the truth.

Dan Curtis’ horror express sped into high gear after that, and the stops along the way produced some of the best terrorific television series and movies the genre has seen, heavily inspiring future fright-meisters and their cinematic and literary creations. He also had the good sense to work with one of the best writers in the field, Richard Matheson. Together they brought Trilogy of Terror to the small screens of millions of viewers in 1975, and created a diminutive image of horror that still brings chills and thrills today.

Originally conceived as a pilot for a television series, Trilogy of Terror takes three of Matheson’s stories, adds the talented Karen Black in numerous roles, and for an extra dollop of terror, peppers in a little Zuni Fetish Warrior doll with a hideous grimace of pointy teeth and a penchant for bloody mayhem. Throughout the three stories there is also the quintessential Robert Cobert music, so much associated with Dan Curtis’ gloomy cinematography.

While the first two stories, adapted by William F. Nolan, may seem cliche today, they were highly original back in1975. In the first, Julie, Karen Black plays a reserved, plain-looking English professor who unwillingly becomes embroiled in a sexual tango with one of her students. Or so it seems. In the second story, Millicent and Therese, Ms. Black plays two sisters at polar opposites in their personalities, and heading for a violent confrontation because of it.

Richard Matheson wrote the screenplay for Amelia, the third episode which is based on his short story Prey. And it is this story that stands out as an important and memorable entry in cinematic horror. Indeed, in the audio commentary provided by Nolan and Black, Nolan jokes how he was always congratulated for the Amelia episode—the one he didn’t write—when approached by fans. He eventually stopped telling fans he didn’t write it and just accepted their appreciation.

The story is that good.

Take a lone woman, psychologically battered by her mother, add a little present wrapped in a curiously odd-looking box for her anthropology boyfriend, and toss in a warning not to remove the little chain that holds the savage warrior’s spirit at bay, and you have a simple recipe for…disaster!

As the chain falls from the little, and hideously looking, doll, you know what’s coming. Curtis builds it slowly, with a little foreshadowing as Amelia cuts her finger on the very sharp spear the doll carries. After her bath, Amelia, dressed only in a bathrobe, notices the doll is no longer on the table. Curtis also changes the camera angle, and moves it lower to the floor, heightening our fears of what is to come. As Amelia reaches under the couch she again gets cut, and reaching further, pulls out the spear. Even with the lights on, her apartment is dark—Dan Curtis dark—and Cobert’s music hits its ominously strident tones.

Out of the corner of her eye, a shadow scampers across the floor. She begins to suspect something crazy is going on, and just before you can say ‘Zuni Fetish Warrior Is Alive!’ the lights go out, and the bolt on her front door is reshaped into a metal pretzel, trapping her in the apartment.

The first frenetic attack is sudden, loud, and brings her down to floor level as the little savage uses a knife swiped from the kitchen counter to stab her feet and ankles again and again. The rushing of the little doll, screaming as it relentlessly attacks her, is still amazingly effective and scary. Locking herself in the bathroom does no good, as the little monster is very resourceful. She tries to drown it in the bathtub, but that also fails. The scene, as it climbs out of the tub with the big knife firmly gripped in its mouth, borders on almost funny, but Curtis’ direction keeps this story deadly serious.

Karen Black, speaking in the Three Colors Black featurette on the DVD, describes the fear of vaginal entry that this episode plays on. She also mentions the humorous troubles the special effects people had in animating the little bugger. In the first attack, where she stumbles to the floor, she describes how they had trouble keeping the limbs on the doll as they rapidly pulled it along the floor. In the scene where it clamps down on her neck, she also describes how she had to hold onto it and act like it was alive and biting her. In the hands of lesser talent, this episode would have become a quirky absurdity; instead, it remains one of the most intense sessions in terror committed to the small screen. Interestingly enough, she explains that the dental work appearing at the end was actually her idea, which Dan Curtis did not agree with at the beginning. But it works well, and provides a lasting image of horror that speaks volumes even to this day.

Additional featurettes on the DVD include Terror Scribe, in which Richard Matheson talks about himself and the film, and the audio commentary by Karen Black and William F. Nolan. Dark Sky Films has done a wonderful job in releasing this horror classic again on DVD.

Neon Maniacs (1986)
Trading Card Monsters

/ Movies (Bad) / Leave a Comment

Neon poster Zombos Says: Fair with Crackers and Cheese

We were sitting in Zombos’ study. Outside, the Long Island winter winds blew the gray barren tree limbs to and fro. Paul Hollstenwall was visiting and brought along Neon Maniacs. The Hollstenwalls live at 0004 Gravestart Lane, a few minutes’ walk from the mansion. Not far enough, if you ask me.

It’s always a lively and interesting time when Paul visits us.

Wait, that’s a lie. It’s always a dreadful time. His taste in lame, pointless, movie-making is boundless, and he always manages to find yet another awful movie that’s worse than the previous one he’s subjected us to watching.

I warned Zombos our time would be better spent elsewhere, but he insisted on seeing the movie. He’s always insists. I don’t know why.

I poured the coffee and sambuca, and popped the DVD into the player.

When the world is ruled by violence, and the souls of mankind fades, the children’s path shall be darkened by the souls of the neon maniacs,” intones the narrator as the movie starts.

“What does that mean?” asked Zombos.

Paul and I shrugged our shoulders. Perhaps that art-house blend of words was just too deep for us.

“What are those, trading cards?” asked Zombos leaning closer to get a better look.

“Yeah, cool-looking, aren’t they?” said Paul. “Wouldn’t it be great if they had statistics on the back for each of the neon maniacs?”

“How do monsters from hell that no one knows about get printed trading cards?” asked Zombos. He stared at Paul and took a big gulp of sambuca.

The first scene is an odd one. A fisherman on the Golden Gate Bridge heads home for the night. He passes a big metal door beneath the bridge and finds a bunch of Tarot-like cards lying in a bleached-white cattle skull. Each card depicts a Neon Maniac. Yes, it’s all rather goofy. He stoops to look at them. The massive door behind him opens quietly. An axe wielding and deformed Neon Maniac sneaks up and stands over him while he looks at the axe wielding and deformed Neon Maniac’s trading card.

Cut to the axe going up, coming down, and the fisherman will fish no more.

I reached for the liner notes hoping to find an explanation for the significance of using trading cards.

None.

Perhaps director Joseph Mangine was aiming for a marketing tie-in with Neon Maniac trading cards? See the movie then trade maniacs with your friends! Trading cards were big in the 1980s.

I read more of the sparse liner notes looking for answers.

…it’s the neon maniacs, a group of ruthless, outrageously attired and made-up killers who emerge from beneath the Golden Gate Bridge to wreak havoc on helpless teenagers [and fisherman too, apparently]. Where the Maniacs come from is never explained, nor why they live so close to San Francisco Bay, considering that water…is the only thing that can harm them.

So not only are they hideously deformed and fashion-phobic,they’re stupid. My favorite quote is “and the producer now says, ‘It was a much better script than a movie…’ ”

Great.I turned my attention, reluctantly, back to the movie. The incongruous lounge music didn’t raise my hopes of it getting better.

“My god, they look like the Village People,” said Zombos.

“Yes, they do, don’t they, like in some twisted sense of horror-hell,” replied Paul. “Pretty imaginative, don’t you think?”

I looked at my watch to see how much longer I would have to suffer through this pretty imaginative mess. I tried to excuse myself, but Zombos would have none of that. He likes to see me squirm.

“Where did that midget dinosaur with one eye in the middle of its head come from?” asked Zombos.

Paul and I shrugged our shoulders. Zombos finally stopped asking silly questions and quietly watched this silly movie.

After teenagers are slaughtered in a park, the cops of course do not believe the lone survivor, Natalie (a fairly comatose Leilani Sarelle). She goes home. After watching her friends get beheaded, hung, and mutilated by the village people from hell, she puts on a bathing suit—in the middle of the night and all alone—and goes for a relaxing dip in the backyard pool.

All near-victims in horror movies should have Olympic-sized pools in their backyard so they can relax after their near-death trauma.

Just so we are clear on this, she is alone and it is the middle of the night, and right after her friends having been horribly mutilated and killed by outrageously dressed and deformed monster-freaks appearing out of nowhere. Me, you, and any rational person would think along the lines of ‘if they could appear in the park, they could even appear for a pool party.’ Clearly Natalie is no smarter than these Neon Maniacs.

And why the hell are they called “neon’ anyway? They don’t glow. They don’t even disco down!

One of them, the hairy caveman (he reminded me of television’s Land of the Lost) lurks in the bushes watching her. He almost busts a move, but it begins to rain so he runs away. End of suspense; a close shave with hairy death to be sure.

“Wait, this is the best part,” said Paul with enthusiasm.

It was the introduction of the stereotypical spoiled and precocious movie adolescent who was also a budding horror director, sticking her nose into the mystery of the missing teenagers because that is what precocious adolescents with cameras do in movies. After Spielberg and Lucas shook things up, rich kids with cinema-blood started popping up all over the screen.

This rich kid, Paula (Donna Locke), is fun to watch as she exudes that I-told-you- so and I- know-better- because-I am-rich-and-can-afford-all-this-camera-equipment style of cocky acting. With her baseball cap daringly tilted to one side and her starry-eyed determinism, I was hoping she would square off against the midget dinosaur and poke its eye out. Or get eaten. I’d settle for either way.

She is also way smarter than the police as precocious adolescents in movies must always be wiser and smarter than their years. She is smart enough to find the obvious green goop trail the maniacs leave behind. Only she is smart enough to follow this plain as daylight muck trail to the big metal doors under the bridge. No trading cards or cattle skull this time, just lots of dead white pigeons in front of the doors.

If any movie ever cried out for expository explanation, THIS is the one.

Mentally putting the green goop and dead white pigeons together, Paula comes back later that night with her really expensive video equipment to shoot night scenes without a light source. She’s that good. She hides behind bushes near the metal doors. Soon the Neon Maniacs leave their hiding place, only to be turned back by the oncoming rain. One of them trips into a puddle of water and starts bubbling, so now she knows their weakness!

She hurries home. A Neon Maniac goes after her while she is sleeping. Being precocious and clever, she’s prepared with a bucket of water and a water pistol.

How the maniac knew where she lived is not explained. The rain had driven them back inside, so none of them could have followed her.

I stared at my watch, willing the minute hand to move faster. It didn’t work.

The next day, Paula, Natalie, and the requisite handsome but nerdy boyfriend realize everyone is in danger, especially all teenagers, of course, and they quickly devise a plan to arm all High Schoolers with water pistols at the Sock Hop versus Alice Cooper wannabees band contest taking place later that night. They give everyone a water pistol but forget to tell anyone when to use them. The Neon Maniacs show up on the dance floor to do the mashing-body hustle, panic ensues, and bodies are sliced, diced, and julienned in short order.

After much thought and dismemberment, Paula finally notices the big fire hose hanging on the wall and puts it to good use, dousing the maniacs until they scatter.

That should have ended the movie easily, but since some minutes were left, to fill with incongruous action, Natalie and her boyfriend run up a few flights of stairs to the locked Principal’s Office. Oops. Meanwhile, a graphic grue humor scene with the Neon Maniac surgeon operating on a chloroformed night guard suddenly stands out in this otherwise gore-light movie.

Now back to Natalie and her boyfriend and that locked office problem: no problem, they decide to make out instead.

“Wonderful story logic there,” commented Zombos.

“This is a funny scene,” said Paul. “The kids convince the police to carry squirt guns and go after the monsters.”

The police, in a 1950s Blob-styled these-kids-are-crazy-but-what-the-hell-we’ve-got-no other-choice frame of mind, along with the fire department, converge in front of the metal doors underneath Golden Gate Bridge. Water pistols and fire-hoses at the ready, they open the doors and search the surprisingly small storage garage the Neon Maniacs hang out in. Nothing is found and the kids are derisively told to get the hell out of there.

They do.

The chubby obtuse detective (obnoxious and obtuse detectives are always overweight in movies and television) in charge heads back into the garage after everyone leaves.

Without his water pistol.

Weird, colorful, lights and odd sounds coming from the derelict ambulance attract his attention.

He opens the ambulance’s doors and pokes his head in.

Bad move.

Neon Maniacs is so clumsily awful it’s very enjoyable to watch with friends, a few beers, and low expectations. Sadly, there is no disco dancing or neon lights involved, and a trading card set was never issued.