zc

Meet the Horror Bloggers:
Love Train for the
Tenebrous Empire

Tenebrous Kate Many fans of horror, amateur and professional alike, have devoted themselves to blogging about the thrills, chills, and no-frills side of the genre as seen in cinema and print. In this ongoing series that highlights the writers behind the blogs, we meet the unique personalities and talents that make the online horror scene so engaging. Up close and personal.

In this installment, League of Tana Tea Drinkers’ member Tenebrous Kate of Love Train for the Tenebrous Empire tells us about her love for the unusual. Hop aboard!

Between my Halloween-themed birthday parties, early interest in the creepiest fairy tales, and exposure to my Dad’s incredible impersonation of Bela Lugosi’s Dracula, I was pretty much fated from infancy to be some flavor of spooky. My youthful dreams of earning a living as a vampire hunter were squashed (I read pretty much every book filed under the Parapsychology & Occult section of my local library), so by the time I was fourteen, I began delving into the wild world of horror cinema in earnest.

Applying the same sort of tenacity to my movie-viewing that I’d put into my childhood reading, I methodically worked my way through the “Horror” category at a number of video rental stores. Unlike a lot of my horror-loving colleagues, I entirely missed out on the slasher flick craze due to parental protectiveness and a notoriously weak stomach for on-screen depictions of blood-and-guts. After dipping a toe in the waters of explicit fright films with “Suspiria” (I’d read laudatory words about this movie most likely in an issue of “Cinefantastique” or “Video Watchdog”), my love affair with off-the-wall exploitation epics was born.

Rat pfink At some point during high school, I was banhammered from selecting films for movie nights with pals (I think it was “Rat Pfink and Boo Boo” that finally did it) and I found myself desperately in need of a community of like-minded geeks. Thank goodness for the horror convention circuit and the internet, both of which gave me an appropriate outlet for my fandom. In the intervening years, I’ve formed good friendships and have had exploitation film articles published by my pals at “Ultra Violent Magazine.”

As is the case with comedy, a viewer’s reaction to horror is deeply personal, leading to the kind of impassioned opinions and debates that characterize the horror blogosphere. For me, a good piece of horror entertainment is immensely satisfying–blending strangeness, provocation, and vivid imagery with escapism and (dare I say it!) fun. I’m in touch with the fact that my appetite for sexually-charged, wildly-politically-incorrect, severely-bizarre horror is outside of the norm in a scene that’s already outside of the norm. Acknowledging this, it only seems natural that I should employ my own voice when writing about that kind of material. My blogging is a form of autobiography through my interactions with a very specific slice of the pop cultural pie. I find that having an interactive platform where I can discuss my joys, disappointments, and fascinations enhances my experience of horror entertainment–this is a pretty amazing side effect to a hobby I took up simply for fun!

Meet the Horror Bloggers:
Cinema Suicide

Bryan White Many fans of horror, amateur and professional alike, have devoted themselves to blogging about the thrills, chills, and no-frills side of the genre as seen in cinema and print. In this ongoing series that highlights the writers behind the blogs, we meet the unique personalities and talents that make the online horror scene so engaging. Up close and personal.

In this installment, League of Tana Tea Drinkers’ member Bryan White of Cinema Suicide tells us how he leveraged his love of horror into free stuff, a successful blog, and a lifelong passion.

My family picked up stakes when I was seven years old and moved us from Binghamton, New York, to the Lovecraftian seaside of Marblehead, Massachusetts. It took me no time at all to seek out the channels with the best cartoons and in the process of this Saturday morning exploration, I found something that Binghamton didn’t have. At least not to my knowledge. This morbid discovery also managed to silently change my life in ways I wouldn’t understand until I was well into my 20’s.

The Creature Double Feature on WLVI was your classic afternoon monster matinee on TV. Bookended by an echoplex voice-over set to Emerson, Lake and Palmer, The Creature Double Feature introduced me to vampires with British accents, men in rubber monster suits stomping on models of Japanese cities and more pie plates decked out to look like flying saucers than you could possibly ever conceive of. It was all in good fun and just shocking enough to scare the crap out of a 7 year old; enough to keep me coming back week after week in hopes of seeing Karloff, Price, and Lee again.

Creature Double Feature 56 It didn’t end there, either. The magic of UHF television was that everything was broadcast with a devil may care attitude and tight budgets meant broadcasting only the cheapest crap. Dollar rental video stores a few years later, paired with way too much free time on my hands, meant nights spent cataloging the most brazen garbage the action and horror sections had to offer. I spent a solid majority of my life up to this point swimming in a sea of NTSC filth looking for new shocks, evangelizing movies most people have dismissed; but it wasn’t until the internet came along that I found more people like me and even bigger repositories of information and fandom.

An incidental collection of bootlegs and factory prerecords led to bootleg trades and to accompany this, a website listing my haves and wants. A general necessity to write HTML led to actually working in the web development field, which led to a coworker asking me why I didn’t, at least, have a personal blog, which eventually became Cinema Suicide.

Cinema Suicide led to lots of free stuff from people selling movies. It also led to becoming the go-to horror movie guy for New Hampshire Public Radio’s show, Word of Mouth, a nod in the last round of Rondo Hatton Classic Horror Awards, and a ton of journalists asking me what I watch when Halloween rolls around. It’s quite remarkable the things that knowing a lot of useless information can bring you.

But my love for the genre has nothing to do with marginal regional infamy or free stuff. Horror old and new gave me a place to go when I was the new kid in town, a mantle I wore more than few times, even if that place was the family den where we kept the television. I grew up every bit the spooky kid in my class and when I felt like no one understood me, I always had a place to go that was comfortable, even when it involved zombies tearing a bunch of bikers limb from limb and eating their intestines. Say what you will but some of my longest friendships have names like Dawn of the Dead, Vincent Price, and Roger Corman. I give back as much as they gave me by leveraging my questionable writing skills on their behalf in hopes that, even among waves of remakes and a genre in its death throes, I’ll somehow influence someone to take another look at some movie that they dismissed because it looked cheesy.

And for the record, my favorite movie of all time is Escape From New York, a factoid that Adrienne Barbeau, herself, found hard to believe.

Meet the Horror Bloggers:
Day of the Woman

Day of the Woman Many fans of horror, amateur and professional alike, have devoted themselves to blogging about the thrills, chills, and no-frills side of the genre as seen in cinema and print. In this ongoing series that highlights the writers behind the blogs, we meet the unique personalities and talents that make the online horror scene so engaging. Up close and personal.

In this installment, League of Tana Tea Drinkers’ member Brittney-Jade Colangelo of Day of the Woman brings a youthful approach to an old genre.

Horror has always been a huge part of my life. Before Kindergarten I was a Craven Crusader, I had conquered Carpenter, and I bellowed with laughter at Barker. My mother introduced me to the films at a young age, but my father brought me into the horror culture. My parents also used to run the haunted hayride for our community.

People from all over would come to our town to experience the terror that my family would provide. While it would drive down creepy trails and scary wooded areas, my parents were lurking. My father may have been the big man in the hockey mask that jumped on top of the ride towards the end, but my mother was Pamela Voorhees. She was a woman dressed in the hockey mask at the beginning of the ride. Sort of a symbol for the terror that was about to come. In my opinion, it was brilliant.

My mother also chose a babysitter for me who shared a love of horror. I had a babysitter named Jillian who LOVED horror films. She would come over to watch me for the evening while my parents went out galavanting and she would come over with bundles of horror films. While most parents would probably freak out, my mom encouraged it! We even had a night where all the neighborhood kids came by and we watched Sleepaway Camp. Knowing it would scare us sheetless, it lead to an up all night party of ghost stories shared by not only the children and the babysitter…but my parents as well.

Comic Book Review: Lenore
A Cute Little Dead Girl

Lenore Zombos Says: Excellent

Work with me here.

Take a deep breadth. Close your eyes. I need you to imagine cracking open a New Yorker magazine from way way back and coming across a Charles Addams cartoon. Feel free to smirk, laugh, chuckle, or whatever the thought forces your lips into doing. Now it gets a bit harder. I need you to mime opening the Witch model kit from Aurora. I suppose one of those reissues will do, but those Aurora cardboard boxes had a unique smell that's hard to recapture. Then again, maybe it's just me and the way I remember it. You will need to uncap a Testor's tube of glue and take a whiff–but just a very very small one. I know it's just in your imagination, but let's not get carried away. Now envision all those creepy, Gahan Wilsonesque, plastic pieces painted in garish, shiny,colors–no matte finishing allowed. We want it bright and surreal and Def Leppard soft in tone. Exhale. Now open your eyes.

Welcome to the weird world of Lenore, the cute little dead girl.

In the Macabre Malevolence of Mortimer Fledge, Lenore's shocking rebirth into dead-dom is illustrated shockingly by Roman Dirge, for her move over to her new publisher, Titan Books. And this time her deathly pallor is given some color to liven things up. Just enough to keep the embalming fluid that sprays out of her autopsied body a nicely pale yellow, the Aliens' cargo loader–controlled by Ragamuffin (immortal vampire turned ragdoll. Really.)–a seedy mustard shade, and Mr. Fledge's Balloon Bug Hat quite festive.

Meet the Horror Bloggers:
Vault of Horror

Brian_solomonMany fans of horror, amateur and professional alike, have devoted themselves to blogging about the thrills, chills, and no-frills side of the genre as seen in cinema and print. In this ongoing series that highlights the writers behind the blogs, we meet the unique personalities and talents that make the online horror scene so engaging, up close and personal.

In this installment, League of Tana Tea Drinkers' member Brian Solomon of The Vault of Horror squarely places the blame for his horror fanaticism.

I've been fascinated with horror ever since my parents let me watch The Exorcist at 8 years old (what were they thinking??), and I ran up to my bed screaming when Linda Blair's eyes rolled into the back of her head.

There were also all those classic Universal and Hammer flicks that syndicated TV piped my way on lazy weekend afternoons. But the one that grabbed my attention and didn't let go, the film that truly sparked my lifelong fascination with the horror genre, was The Return of the Living Dead (or ROTLD, as its fans so succinctly call it.)

Much as with my very life, it all started thanks to my parents. You see, they were horror freaks from back in the days when I had to stay holed up in my room just listening to the screams from downstairs, too young to sit in on the "grown-up" horror movies.

For me, ROTLD was a gateway movie, opening the door to so much more. My next stop was the Evil Dead flicks; then came George Romero, and the rest, as they say, is history.

The Vault of Horror

Meet the Horror Bloggers:
TheoFantastique

Jwmorehead Many fans of horror, amateur and professional alike, have devoted themselves to blogging about the thrills, chills, and no-frills side of the genre as seen in cinema and print. In this ongoing series that highlights the writers behind the blogs, we meet the unique personalities and talents that make the online horror scene so engaging, up close and personal.

In this installment, League of Tana Tea Drinkers' member John W. Morehead of TheoFantastique tells us about his life-long journey with the fantastic on film and television, and how it provides a catalyst for his studies in religion and culture.

I have had an almost lifelong connection to the fantastic, including horror. Some of my memories going back to early grammar school in Stockton, California include my dad's offer to my brother and I to forgo the weekly family viewing of The Wonderful World of Disney for a scary movie. Although we loved Disney, we jumped at the chance to see something we had never seen before. The movie that evening was The Creature from the Black Lagoon. I was younger than eight at the time, probably five or six, and although the creature frightened me, it also opened the door for a love of horror and science fiction even at this young age.

Orphan (2009)
Hell On Heels

Orphan Zombos Says: Very Good

Kids may say and do the damnedest things, but little orphan Esther is hell to be around. In Orphan, a movie that will do for adoption services what Jaws did for the summer beach trade, young Isabelle Fuhrman chills the scenery.

Dressed in Old World frilly finery, speaking with a European accent that would make Bela Lugosi blush, and harboring a dark secret that makes her a dicey addition to the Coleman family, Esther’s talent with a claw hammer and penchant for surreptitious mayhem is a solid B-movie thrill ride not seen in a while. The twist-ending will also make anyone currently seeking adoption double-check that paperwork again and again.

Kate Coleman (Vera Farmiga) has a rough time of it after her third child is stillborn. Hitting the bottle she loses her teaching job, and her drinking almost costs the life of her second child, Max (Aryana Engineer), who is deaf but knows what people say with the help of her hearing aid and by reading lips. This puts a strain on Kate’s relationship with husband John (Peter Sarsgaard). I should note that many horror movies begin with a severely strained relationship that leads to much more strain (usually from bloodletting and death, of course), which in this case is precipitated by the adoption of sweetly sinister little Esther from St. Mariana Orphanage.

Esther We immediately see Esther is different because she prefers to paint alone upstairs when every other kid is playing downstairs. She likes to sing The Glory of Love when she is painting and also when she is on the toilet. John hears her singing and they bond over their mutual artistic talents. Max, who likes to have mom sign to her a story about the sister who went to heaven, takes to Esther immediately, but her brother Daniel (Jimmy Bennett III) thinks Esther is weird, as does his friends at school. At first he feels threatened by her getting his parents’ attention; after the incident where a razor blade is closely poised near his most vital areas, he has a lot more to feel threatened by.

When bad things begin to happen to those around Esther, like the girl at school, who teases her, breaking an ankle, or like Sister Abigail (CCH Pounder; Mrs. Frederic in Warehouse 13), who signs-off on the adoption papers–before she realizes how Esther is always around when bad things happen–having a car accident, Kate’s suspicions grow. John, of course, along with Kate’s psychotherapist, thinks his wife is having a relapse. Both insist she commit herself for treatment.

Seasoned horror fans will recognize this scenario: the only person to see the threat is the only person no one trusts or listens to. But director Jaume Collet-Serra (House of Wax) provides enough suspense to make this familiar situation work to the Orphan’s advantage. We feel the terror felt by Daniel and Max; they know how awful Esther can really be, but they are helpless against her as she keeps trying to get rid of them. Permanently. I normally do not want to see children in R-rated movies, but their fear and potential to be harmed by Esther is essential to the momentum of the story. Adding to this tension are flashes of Esther losing her outward calm in fits of rage when no one is around, and how Collet-Serra shows her prowling to spy on her adopted parents and siblings. Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Esther acts innocently until she needs to act violently. What Collet-Serra should have left out are the overused, falsely queued–music and camera–scares, and person-popping-up-behind-you seen in mirror. Isabelle Fuhrman’s Esther provides all the scares he needs.

Towards the climax, the revelation of Esther’s true intent, previously hidden on the walls of her bedroom, brings the evil vividly home to John just before the lights go out. While this movie may cause adoption rates to dip a bit, it will certainly take the summer heat off you with a chill or two.

Comic Book Review: Creepy 1

Dark Horse Comics Creepy

Zombos Says: Good

Heh-heh, Welcome–Welcome to the comic world's newest, most exciting
and most imaginative magazine in 10 years. I'm Creepy, your nauseating
host! I've scrounged around the lowest places imaginable to dig up the
comic industry's greatest and most fiendish artists!
Uncle Creepy (Creepy Magazine No. 1, 1964)

Uncle Creepy is back! And this time around he brings his bad-blooded relations, along with Sister Creepy, to punk out the night with four new stories oozing black and white terror, one loathsome lore, and one reprinted story. And let's not forget the Dear Uncle Creepy letters section, too.

The artwork is all very good, with Angelo Torres pencils visualizing Dan Braun's Hell Hound Blues, and Alex Toth's reprinted Daddy and the Pie lending some classy support; but from the lighter lines of Hillary Barta's Loathsome Lore on Faustian Deals and Brian Churilla's All the Help You Need, to Shawn Alexander's The Curse Part One and Saskia Gutekunst's Chemical 13! darker, starker characters, the stories capture the old Creepy mystique fairly well, especially with Uncle Creepy providing the introductions and appropriately quippy last words.

In The Curse Part One, Jude discovers he has a certain knack for making his wishes come true. Unfortunately, his mom has been doing some wishing, too, and Jude is in for a shocking surprise. Hell Hound Blues plays off the Robert Johnson legend, wherein the Devil provides the soulful chords for a price. Or was it really Tommy Johnson who met up with the Devil at the crossroads one lonely midnight? Who the devil knows? The story could have used a few more pages to flesh it out, but the ending is classic Creepy. In Chemical 13!, the Nazis get exactly what they bargained for, and Delia Gold gets the fat farm treatment–to the max–in All the Help You Need. The only problem is the farm next store prefers to chew the fat more than lose it.

On the Dear Uncle Creepy letters page is a family snapshot promising some interesting happenings with oddball relatives popping up in future issues. For issue one we are introduced to Sister Creepy, a cool, naughty, Goth who dishes up the Loathsome Lore with relish.

An unexpected oddity for this issue is the reprinted Daddy and the Pie, a story more sci fi than horror. It is a well-executed story but still not horror, so it ends this issue with a whimper instead of a chill. But it is nice to see the classy creepster back in action, and I am sure, based on this first issue, the chill will return soon enough.

Book Review: Monsters From the Vault Special Edition
Kharis Unearthed!

Kharis mummy 

Zombos Says: Very Good

Come the casting of Lon Chaney in The Mummy's Tomb, and the Universal legend of Kharis truly came alive–both on the screen and the back lot.

Indeed, once 'The Screen's Master Character Creator' was under that mask and inside that costume, true horror ran amok at Universal City. Forsaking tana leaf tea for vodka (hidden inside the suit and sipped through a straw), the Chaney Mummy drunkenly rampaged through the rest of the series–genuinely terrifying leading ladies, dangerously attacking fellow actors, vociferously claiming the Mummy mask gave him an allergy, and angrily bitching about his costume to anyone who'd listen (Greg Mank, Kharis Unearthed!).


Monsters From the Vault magazine has released Kharis the Mummy from his celluloid tomb in their first Special Edition: Kharis Unearthed! Profusely illustrated with sharp photographs that show every three thousand year old wrinkle and dusty bandage, and effusively written by Gregory Mank, Mummy fans will savor this superlative look into one of Universal's least appreciated–but one of their most recognizable–monsters. Who hasn't dressed up as the mummy for Halloween?

What started as a year-long quest to assemble the best photographs of Kharis turned into a wonderful homage to the four films that launched–more like lurched, really–his terror into movie theaters for audiences who, to this day, either deride or cherish the ambling Mummy as he slurps tana tea under the guidance of the high priests of Karnak, the real villains of this series, and slowly stalks his victims–conveniently always too paralyzed with fear to escape the death grip of his one good arm.

Each film is addressed by Mank, who provides wonderful anecdotes regarding Tom Tyler's The Mummy's Hand, and Lon Chaney's turn at the bandages in The Mummy's Tomb, The Mummy's Ghost, and The Mummy's Curse. Mank's enthusiasm and informed observations make me want to rediscover this series, especially director Le Borg's more ambitious handling of The Mummy's Ghost.

John Carradine is the most Grim Reaper-esque of all the series' high priests…Ramsay Ames is the most drop-dead sexy of the Kharis leading ladies…Universal's back lot New England provides a poetic, Halloween night aura for the Mummy's midnight haunts…George Zucco's Andoheb gets a farewell showcase…and the surprise Lost Horizon-style finale is still a gut puncher–probably causing more than one smart-ass 1944 teenager to shut up, sit up, and stop razzing the movie (Greg Mank, Kharis Unearthed!)

Mummys ghost Two more sections, devoted to the actors who portrayed the high-priests and the leading-ladies (the real highlights in all the Mummy movies), provide ample insight into, and respect for, the creative people who gave Kharis life.

For Kharis fans, Kharis Unearthed! is a picture and word treasure to savor, to be read late at night under the bedsheets, with a steady flashlight and a cool, dry breeze blowing in from an open window. For future Kharis fans, this special edition provides a wealth of information to prepare them for the fun of experiencing the Mummy for the first time.

Interview: Coraline’s Henry Selick

Henry_Selick_CORALINE

Coraline comes out on DVD Tuesday. Scott Essman talks shop with director Henry Selic about his work on Coraline and Nightmare Before Christmas.

Since he burst on the scene with the wildly imaginative 1993 stop-motion animated feature The Nightmare Before Christmas, California Institute of the Arts graduate Henry Selick has been one of Hollywood’s most innovative filmmakers. After his stop-motion followup to Nightmare, the well-received 1996 film James and the Giant Peach, Selick directed the partially live-action film Monkeybone in 2001.

Now, the long-in-the works Coraline, a surreal mixture of animation and fantasy, arrives on DVD on July 21, 2009 after a successful theatrical run that included both traditional and dynamic 3D screenings.

In this interview from his new Portland, Oregon studio base, Laika, Selick reflects on his lauded career and shares special insights into the creation of Coraline, his most ambitious project to date.

You’ve moved around quite a bit – born in New Jersey, but since the 1970s, you’ve lived up and down the West Coast. How has this journey worked creatively for you, and why so many moves?

I started out at CalArts [north of Los Angeles in Valencia] and worked at Disney Studios for about four years. Then I moved to the Bay Area in the early 80s to work as a sequence director on [the animated feature film] Twice Upon a Time. That was my base up until Coraline. There, I did the features, MTV stuff, commercials and short films. For Nightmare and James we got warehouse space right in San Francisco south of Market. I went up to Portland, Oregon four-and-a-half years ago to get Coraline going. For Coraline, we built out our little in-house team and tried to do a lot of practical effects. Some of the main armature components were made in San Francisco, but 99% of the movie was all done in one big warehouse in the outskirts of Portland.

Coraline_DVD_BoxArt How did you decide on Coraline as your first feature since Monkeybone, eight years ago now?

The story comes from the Neil Gaiman book. He sent me the pages as a side project. He’d been working on it to finish for his younger daughter. In the book, the basic story is there. Back in 2000, there was a long period of time where I wrote the screenplay. At that time, I did animated creatures for [Wes Anderson’s feature] Life Aquatic. In all of that time, I’d been living this Coraline story and dreaming the visuals. The expanded version had already been fully formed in my mind. I had written an early draft, but Neil told me to go off and reimagine it. He said that the book was not quite a film.

The second draft of the screenplay is when things came to life. I restructured everything, added characters, and came up with the issue of whether the whole world is a dream. When you are adapting a book, it has to feel like the book and smell like the book. But there are several thousand large changes and a hundred medium ones. I would always come back to the screenplay, do sketches, and do a scrapbook of images. For example, I had come across an obituary of a child star from the 1920s – there was a picture in the paper of her holding a doll that looked just like her that was being marketed to the public. I was collecting images for ideas and had a very long time to assemble the world of the film.

How did you devise the execution of the complicated production process for this film?

There is an order to events but everything overlaps and there are certain things you don’t quite resolve and you go back to. Stop-motion animation is much closer to live action films – you have set construction, lighters, electricians, gaffers, a hair department, and costumes. The difference, of course, is that it’s all miniature with many sets working at the same time with a team of animators.

Some of the first steps that happen are to convince people that you can make a movie from your script – then character design and voice casting. Virtually all animation and effects-heavy live-action films are completely storyboarded with temp voices and temp music. In a sense, you are making the movie once, editing it before you actually do any animation. You don’t have a 10:1 ratio – it’s a very close ratio. Then, people storyboard the entire film to get to the next step. You work out the first and second act, and the third act is loosey-goosey. You have your first scenes figured out, you’ve recorded the voices, start building puppets, and build the world. You experiment with materials and do 3D tests.

Eventually, you are testing puppets – how does Coraline walk, what are her poses, what makes her stand out and unique? You figured out the best sync – full replacement faces where you sculpt hundreds of individual faces. You can’t build all of your puppets at once – you start out with a few characters and ramp up to 30 sets at once. You are re-recording pickup lines a year later. You’re hoping Dakota Fanning’s voice [playing lead performer Coraline Jones] doesn’t change that much for the pickup lines. You hit this sweet spot where you have the whole film mapped out and everyone is making the same film in this very effective machine. You are working with animators who are the real actors, planning shots, having dailies four times a day, and start to work with the composer who sketches out the ideas for themes. You get everything shot and bring in an outside editor who can brutally look over the film with a fresh eye.

18 months is the actual shoot time. The core of the crew working hard every day making the film is 150 people. We have an additional 150 who work for a short period of time. They may have done inspirational artwork or armatures. There is also a big support group and a visual effects team to paint out rigs.

Can you describe your typical day whilst the film is in the throes of production?

We have two edit rooms so that I can ping pong back and forth. We do lighting and camera tests and stand-in puppets. Then you work with the animators. There is a lot of time spent in editorial. Then you go out on the sets checking in on shots. The animators shot digitally so that we can play back what we are doing and respond to it. We are still building final characters to the end. In the heat of it, 60% is editorial and 30% of the day roaming set to set and checking the art department and sound. Everyone thinks that stop-motion is watching paint dry.

The actual performance of the animator coaxing performance out of these puppets is slow. But as a director, you are supervising all of the individual animators and supervising and four lead animators. What are the poses, walks and motions for the characters? I am very much talking through performance with the animators, timing, and posing of every scene. That is how I spend the majority of my day.

How is the type of animation that you are doing for Coraline different from what pioneers Willis O’Brien and Ray Harryhausen created in King Kong (1933) and Mighty Joe Young (1949)?

It’s different in that I have a much larger number of people, but at the heart of it, it’s exactly the same – the ball and socket hinge joint puppet posed a frame at a time – 24 times a second – to get the illusion of movement. The process is identical. On top of that, we are shooting digitally. Back on Nightmare and James, we had to send our footage to the lab.

Now, if a puppet breaks in the middle of a shot, we can get the puppet repaired. We have digital assisting. We can put the puppets on a simple metal rig and hand animate and later paint out the rig. We can also program camera moves. At the very center of it, it’s the same. Harryhausen and Willis O’Brien are true pioneers who carried a huge amount of weight on their own. Before Coraline, we had 17 assistants, which seemed like a huge number.

How would your describe your working relationship with Tim Burton, who produced your film The Nightmare Before Christmas?

Tim had developed this basic idea inspired by How the Grinch Stole Christmas and rewrote is as a nightmare. He deserves credit for the clashes of holiday worlds. I partly inspired the character of Jack Skellington. Tim did a drawing of the main characters and Rick Heinrichs sculpted them. We presented them at Disney in the 80s and they thought it was too weird. No one was sticking around. Tim had to leave to make feature films. I did my first stop-motion in 1978 that was funded by AFI. Fast-forward to Tim having huge success. He had seen my work for MTV – station IDs. Rick got Tim and me together to direct. I spent three-and-a-half years growing a team, and I did my films with a very talented team. Then Tim made Batman Returns. The film was called A Nightmare Before Christmas till a month before it came out. It was unsettling for it to be changed to Tim Burton’s A Nightmare Before Christmas. Tim is a genius and gave me my break, but I think he couldn’t stand to not take more credit. With Coraline, I got the creative support that I had before Nightmare.

How did Danny Elfman become integrated into not only the music but songs and story elements as well?

Danny Elfman was chosen to do the music for Tim’s first feature by Paul Reubens, and Tim and Danny hit it off, so that it definitely a Tim choice to work with Danny again. He has done 90% of the music of Tim’s films. Danny is a huge contributor of story – for the songs, Tim would say that we could use a song here and Danny would make up what he felt was right. We started the movie before there was a finished screenplay. Danny wrote three songs. The writer was ill and later the screenplay was written by Caroline Thompson who strung the songs together. Danny deserves a third of the credit at least for the creative spirit of the film.

Aside from your conflict with the release title, how was your experience making your first directorial feature with Nightmare?

It was incredibly joyful experience making the film. We had previously only been able to make 5-6-minute short films. To get to make a stop-motion feature was such a gift. Everyone was so goddamned happy every day. We were also fearless. We didn’t worry about the success or failure – we wanted to make the film as good as we could. It was a low-budget film to lure Tim back to Disney. But the real gift to Disney was Nightmare. We had a lot of fun coming up with those characters and figuring out their personalities. That world was the easiest in many respects. That’s where people had the most fun. There was the real world, and then Christmastown which was Seussian world. Tim has always said that Dr. Seuss is his favorite artist of all time.

Do you shoot tests to see if potential investors/distributors might be interested in making your films?

You do character designs and possibly an animation test. For Nightmare, we did a test – we built a very simple Jack Skellington with a wire armature. The people at Disney scratched their heads. Tim Burton was positive, and they thought the test was a small price for this curiosity.

At Laika, we did shoot tests for Coraline. We used an existing character from another short film. Honestly, most people couldn’t even tell the difference. I took Coraline to the former head of Fox who responded well. It took us a long time to get the film financed. Travis Knight [President and CEO of Laika] wanted to do it as a stop-motion feature, and I wanted to shoot 3D. Even if you get a green-lit film, you are going to do tests for yourself, getting the look of it.

How difficult is it for you at this juncture to launch a new feature film project?

I’m at a great point right now. For a number of years, it was very difficult to get funding for stop-motion films. Between Nightmare and James, Toy Story came out. In the ensuing years, it was virtually impossible. No one just wants to make a profit – they want to make a huge profit. Then Aardman animation got another film going. Tim Burton got Corpse Bride, so things circled back and the timing was great for Coraline. People come to visit us and they see several hundred people in the credits. They can’t believe it’s not done in China. It’s still about 1/3 the cost of Pixar and DreamWorks computer-animated films. These films don’t date, because they are already out of time. It’s a good time for me. The major European countries are opening. People send me books and scripts. Right now is the easiest time to get a film set up and made. You can sell one on a pitch and the screenplay. But I haven’t figured out what I am doing next.

What was ultimately your greatest challenge in making Coraline?

There is no one single thing. Getting Coraline made and holding onto the scary elements was a huge challenge. At various times our distributor and main producer, Bill Mechanic, for him, animation has fit into this one type of storytelling. Just trying to make a scary film for kids was quite a challenge for Coraline. I would like to start pushing the boundaries of what animation could be as in Pixar films.

The new film Up is pretty astonishing in the emotional content of the lead character. There is a movement afoot to keep pushing the boundaries. I wouldn’t want to do another scary film for kids, but if I do, there would be a new element. Animated animals have been at the forefront since the beginning. There are new types of stories to tell with higher-level drama and less jokes. I like to make films for kids but something that is for everyone – also appropriate for kids but not safe. I couldn’t be happier with having made Coraline.

Scott Essman has been writing about crafts and craftspeople in the entertainment business since 1995. His book, Tim Burton – An American Original, is due in 2010 from Praeger Publishing.

Comic Book Review: Post Mortem Studios’ Dirt 1, 2

Dirt Issue One Zombos Says: Good

You don't quite look ready for six feet of cold dirt and hungry worms yet. And I ought to rest a spell, because I got a feeling business is going to be booming directly. So how's about a little story? Just to pass the time (The Digger, Dirt 1)

Scott Nicholson pens the stories for Dirt, the six-issue series from Post Mortem Studios. If you have read Nicholson's short story, The Shaping, in Unspeakable Horror: From the Shadows of the Closet, you already know how he can take a familiar scenario and suddenly veer off in an unexpected and unnerving direction that leaves a chill on your neck or a butterfly in your stomach. Will he be able to capture his terse, poetic, sentence rhythm and narrative point of view within the confining panels and commercially dictated page count of the modern comic book format? Certainly, his penchant for second-person narration provides a natural bridge to using the horror host-styled delivery of story-telling.

For horror comic book fans there is nothing as familiar as the mysterious, often imperious, host introducing each illustrated vignette. Either undead, alive, moldy or loathly, the host helps keep things personal through his or her lively quips and sometimes sardonic observations on the bizarre goings-on and strained social entanglements presented in each story. With Nicholson's North Carolina country-twang writing sensibility potentially loading the shovel-fulls of terror, something unique happening between the panels is possible here as his host, The Digger, turns up each story for us and pats it tightly down when done. Unfortunately, The Digger must have hit pay dirt and quit his day job because, after his appearance in all three stories of issue one, he only appears on the cover of issue two and two panels inside.

[REC] (2007)
When Home Is No Place To Be

REC It's nearly 2 A.M. and we're still sealed in this building that we came to with the firemen earlier this evening, to assist an elderly woman who later attacked a policeman and a fireman. They're both in critical condition. The police won't let us leave and are giving us no explanations (Angela Vidal, [REC]).

Zombos Says: Excellent

 

After the goosebumps I received from Quarantine (2008), I expected watching the original Spanish version of this home-is-where-the-zombies-are, shaky-cam, movie would be a perfunctory exercise in comparing the two. I was wrong.

While Quarantine parallels [REC]'s situations and characters almost completely, [REC] still scared me even though I knew what to expect. It is more energetic–even more shaky–as fluffy-television reporter Angela Vidal (Manuela Velasco) unexpectedly finds the news story of her career in the hallway and rooms of a Barcelona apartment building. The scenes are more brightly lit, the police officers more ineffectual, and the contagion more preternatural in origin, perhaps even supernatural. Even the rapid staccato of Spanish words alternately screamed, cried, or spoken in desperation by Angela, her camera man, and the helpless tenants around them, gives [REC] a personal sheen of terror that comes from having your home, which is normally a place of comfort and security, become the one place you do not want to be.

The home invasion-styled horror movie is a genre staple with various derivations. I will go out on a limb and state, without crunching the numbers properly, that home intruders terrorizing, as seen recently in The Strangers (2008), and earlier in Ils (Them, 2006), are not as prevalent as home sweet home soured as seen in movies like Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) and The Uninvited (1944). The main differences lie in the former involving an active, direct, and immediate threat to one's safety–get out now or die!–as opposed to an ongoing, indirect, and future threat–what are those giant seed pods doing in Becky's cellar?– that make the home the least safest place to be.

Of course, when both are combined into the more inclusive home intruders laying siege scenario, such as in Night of the Living Dead (1968)-where they're coming to get you inside while keeping you from going outside –the horror generates more from ongoing threats that are direct and indirect, and present and future perfect for terror, usually all rolled into a tidy, unrelenting, mayhem in a confined space.

[REC] falls into the home intruders laying siege category, but with a twist: laying siege within the building are the tenants themselves. While the military and police lay siege from without, keeping everyone, infected or not, locked up tight together. The growing number of infected tenants force the desperate survivors to seek temporary safety within the various apartment rooms as control of the hallway gives way to pandemonium.

While Quarantine adds more of the American sensibility for terror-filled gory moments–annoying man caught in elevator with zombie-dog; menacing zombie-fireman standing on sickeningly, bone-cracked legs; noisy drilling into brain moment (how many times have you seen those?)–[REC] keeps gore a little more subdued and spends more time with Angela interviewing the tenants as a real news reporter would do. It does slow the movie, but [REC] maintains a better sense of realism because of it.

A major difference between both movies involves the cause of the contagion. Quarantine shows its American-influenced zombie provenance by using the more scientifically explained and popular–for today's fiction and cinema–biohazard outbreak. [REC]'s virus stems from the isolation of it from the blood of a possessed girl, giving its explanation elements of religion, exorcism, and an old-world folklore creepy charm.

Within the context of an evolving news story shot from the camera man's perspective through his lens, [REC] and [Quarantine] remain the best use of the shaky-cam, found-footage, school of filming along with the Blair Witch Project (1999). And even if you have seen Quarantine, I urge you to see [REC]; not because it is the original story, but because it will still scare the daylights out of you.

The movie spawned four sequels: Rec 2 (2007), Rec 3 (2012): Genesis, and Rec 4: Apocalypse (2014). While Rec 2 continues the found-footage style, Rec 3 begins with it but then switches over to a more traditional story-telling style. Rec 4 moves the action to a ship and goes off the rails in doing so.