From Zombos' Closet

Movie Review: The Call of Cthulhu (2005)

Rain, rain everywhere, and not a drop to drink. Rain, rain everywhere, and all the roads did shrink. At least that's the way it felt as Zombos and I hustled along the Cross Bronx Expressway in a mad attempt to reach Chiller Theatre Expo before the dealer's rooms closed. It was raining heavily, and we were making slow progress over to New Jersey. Even the New Jersey drivers were driving with caution in the deluge. (Note to self: check list of signs of the coming apocalypse. I believe 'New Jersey drivers driving cautiously' falls between 'when hell freezes over', and 'belief that global warming is as real as Big Foot'.)

The Elder Gods were with us, however, and we made it with a little over an hour to spare. Going at such a late hour is rather beneficial as the dealer's rooms are actually strollable. Zombos dashed off to find Zacherley, and I carried along his list of things to pick up, as usual.

One item on the list was the DVD, The Call of Cthulhu. This silent movie is a competent showing of enthusiastic amateur filmmaking that brings H.P. Lovecraft's classic short story to cinematic life.

It is an intriguing challenge: to create an appealing black and white silent film for today's iPoded, simstim-headed, hypertechno-affectualized audience drowning in audio and visual overload. Director Andrew Lehman and a cast of dedicated actors and creative production people tackle this challenge head-on.

The start of the movie is a fun homage to Universal Studios' 1929 globe circled by biplane logo, combined with a retro-look text that evokes the opening credits of their classic horror films. The onscreen intertitles, used to convey dialog and narrate story points, are done well with exacting period detail.

While I can quibble with some things, like merchant marine sailors wearing clean, pressed clothes, and spotlessly white and uncrumpled caps, and everybody — except for the Cthulhu swamp worshippers — looking so darn clean-cut and unrumpled, the film has an art film sensibility. It ably captures the slowly building terror of Lovecraft's fatalistic theme as no other, more expensive production has.

This is a credit to the actors, whose performances are greatly enhanced by the lack of dialog sound, and superbly aided by the moody score. As I watched this film, I was reminded of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. Here, the use of close-ups and tightly framed shots, along with an occasional  dutch shot (horizon not parallel to the frame), make creative use of the low-budgeted sets. The island, where the ill-fated seamen meet the big Squidworth, with it's expressionistic, starkly angular landscaping like the streets where Dr. Caligari and Cesare prowled, is imaginative and creepy.

The Tale of Inspector Legrasse segment of the film, which corresponds to the same section in the short story, is nicely handled on that one shoestring budget. David Mersault is a great choice to play Legrasse. His look and manner are spot-on, and the mist-shrouded swamp encounter with the "indescribable horde of human abnormality" worshippers of Cthulhu and the Great Old Ones, is an exciting mix of scoring, model and greenscreen work, along with the full-scale set design. The only fault I can find with the scene is that it lacks kinetic energy in the climactic fight scenes, both within the separate scenes themselves, and in how the scenes are intercut. What should be a bloody knock down and drag out affair comes off a little luke-warm. The lack of combatants — there's that small budget again — also affects the intensity of the confrontation.

The climactic confrontation between Cthulhu and the ill-fated sailors, The Madness from the Sea segment of the film corresponding to the same section in the short story, is another fine example of doing much with little. Again, model and greenscreen work, and imaginative, full-scale sets combine to realize the otherworldliness of the alien god and his "hideous monolith-crowned citadel" jutting up from the sea. However, the use of stop-motion animation to portray Cthulhu does not work well here, and should have been eschewed for a more shadowy, mostly hidden from view perspective of the thing that

...cannot be described — there is no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy, such eldritch contradictions of all matter, force, and cosmic order.

The documentary on the DVD portrays the tenacity, angst, and artistic juryrigging that made this film a reality. It also provides an informative introduction to the Lovecraftianites that would not let a miniscule budget stand in their creative way. The Call of Cthulhu is an entertaining and faithful cinematic version of the classic story, and required viewing by any Lovecraft aficionado.

Movie Review: The Messengers (2007)

Zombos Says: Very Good

There is nothing worse than having skeletons in your closet, unless you have vengeance-seeking dead people in your cellar, too. In The Messengers, both skeletons and dead people come together in a fusion of Japanese Horror and American Gothic images for its effective PG-13 scares.

The tragedy--there is always an instigating tragedy in J-Horror-- sets the tone for mayhem to come as one family reluctantly moves to the cellar of their old, dark farmhouse, stuck out in the middle of nowhere--with no coffee shop in screaming distance--of a North Dakota sunflower farm.

Reluctantly taking up residence in the gloomy house is the Solomon family. Something happened in the city that has caused a lot of tension between them and they need a place to work things out. There's something to be said for the peace and quiet of the countryside to work things out, but since this is a horror movie they don't get it.

The original tenants, now bluish-gray with morbidity set in, play with Ben (Evan Turner) in the dead of night and get on Jess' (Kristen Stewart) nerves. Their clickety-clack scampering along walls and ceilings, and annoying floating, gallows-style, above the floor ruins the peace and quiet for Jess. A nasty black stain on Ben's bedroom wall keeps getting bigger no matter what mom does. This J-Horror imagery works well with the fusty Gothic farmhouse and the ever-present black crows hovering around it (like the pigeons in Pigeons From Hell). A nerve-rattling scene has Jess being dragged by an unseen force down the long hallway and through the open cellar door, then grabbed at by cadaverous arms shooting out of the darkness behind her, trying to pull her down. Old, dark farmhouses have scary cellars just perfect for scenes like this. More subtle American Gothic elements move to the forefront when Burwell (John Corbett) shows up at the farm.

Toting a shotgun to scare away the increasing number of crows, he stays on to help bring in the crop of sunflowers. Those skeletons keep rattling as Jess tries to make her family believe in them. John lends a sympathetic ear, but Jess realizes she must find out what happened to the previous family--the ones doing the rattling--in order to save her own. While she goes off to find help, her Mom gets to intimately know more about the large black stain on the wall, and John confronts his past. Both families eventually meet, though I'd hold off on the dip and chips.

If you're looking for gore and sprays of arterial blood go elsewhere. The Messengers is better than that. Using shock cuts, good acting, and enough time to unfold the terror along with the tragedy, it delivers less bodies with more suspense.

Movie Review: Christmas Evil (1980)

Zombos Says: Very Good (but weird)

Okay, sing along with me now to the tune of Jingle Bells: "Run like hell, Run like hell, Screaming all the way. Oh what terror it is to hide, as whack'o-crazy killing Santa comes your way. Hey!"

Christmas Evil, or as originally titled by the director, You Better Watch Out, is a weirdly magical holiday film filled with enchantment; once you get past the whack o' crazy amateur Santa dealing death from his bag of deadly toys, and the torch-wielding neighborhood villagers chasing him, and the depressing Jolly Dream toy factory, which may remind you of your own place of employment.

When did you find out that Santa Claus was not real? Hopefully it was at a later age than poor Harry Stadling (Brandon Maggart). He finds out the hard way during Christmas Eve while young and still impressionable; and that impression left him yearning for the real Santa and the real Christmas Spirit. His cramped apartment is filled with Christmas memorabilia and he sleeps in Christmas pajamas and a red cap (nicely trimmed with white fur).

His obsession colors his life the wrong way. He's lonely, creepy, and spies on the neighborhood kids with binoculars, writing down all the nasty or nice things the kids do in his Good Boys and Girls and Bad Boys and Girls notebooks. But this Christmas season is different. His fetish for red gets the better of him, and soon he's trying on white beards, and sewing a holly-jolly Santa suit; he even paints his van with a sleigh. He desperately wishes he had "super magic", and since this is a holiday horror movie you know what usually happens to people who wish for things.

Harry starts going off the deep end of the skating rink and stalks a local boy who is really really naughty. After giving him a good scare, Harry continues his descent into craziness. With success under his big black belt, he molds metal toy soldiers with long, sharp swords.

He reluctantly attends his company's Christmas party, but quickly leaves, finds a few good, strong laundry bags, and fills them with the company's cheaply made toys and dirt for bad boys and girls. He dons his white beard and loses what little hold he has on reality when he stares at himself in the bathroom mirror.

Soon he's dashing through the snow in his sleigh-painted van. He starts off jolly enough, and really wants to play the part of Santa Claus, but like that Christmas when Santa didn't bring me the one special gift I wanted so much, Harry doesn't get what he wants either. When he shows up for midnight mass the snow runs red with blood as a few of the pious commit the cardinal sin of insulting Santa. The art-house pace switches with this shock moment, picking up as fast as the confused Harry runs away. He stumbles onto a party and is invited in. Much fun is had by all, but in a chilling scene, he scares the dickens out of the kids with a warning not to be naughty, then cracks into maniacal laughter.

With his Santa psychosis now in full drive, he starts treating his van as if it were a real sleigh, yelling for Dasher and Dancer to hurry it along. He also climbs up to a roof and tries to go down the chimney and gets stuck in the process. Getting into the house the usual way he happily puts gifts under the tree, then happily kills a co-worker that's been naughty with a Christmas tree star-topper.

With his nicely sewn Santa suit looking pretty soiled after such a busy night, Harry returns to the Jolly Dream toy factory while the police, in a humorous scene, hold Santa Claus line-ups as they round up all the motley sidewalk Santas, looking for the killer. Wonderfully framed scenes follow Harry as he walks down a dark street lined with brightly-lit Christmas decorations. When he stops to give presents to beaming children, their parents confront Harry and one parent flips open a switchblade knife. Harry high-tails it but the villagers — I mean parents — chase Harry through the streets, carrying torches. The chase is ludicrous, directed seriously, and works given the bizarre tone of the film.

The surreal ending is sort of like Art Carney's Night of the Meek episode of the Twilight Zone, and has Harry finally getting his Christmas wish in an unexpected way. You'll rub your eyes in disbelief when you see it.

Movie Review: Slither (2006)

Zombos Says: Very Good

"Well, Falstaff, how is the diet going?" asked Zimba.

"As well as to be expected, Madam," I replied. She could be so cruel at times.

She looked at my waist, smiled demurely, and walked away. I suppose I could cut out the Dunkaccinos every morning, I thought, as I sipped my extra-large Dunkaccino. At least I did not have the weight problem that Grant Grant had in Slither. That whole alien-slug parasite infestation thing can be so demoralizing to one's self-image.

Slither is a well-crafted mix of computer animation, traditional puppetry, rubber and gook special effects, and slimy, horrific make-up artistry that, combined with a witty, fast-paced script and bread and butter cinematography, is a fun and disgusting romp at the same time.

This 1950s-styled monster story breezes along with colorful small-town characters, headed by a self-deprecating sheriff played by Nathan Fillion, and the unpleasantness of an alien-slug-in-the-meteor invasion that has detrimental effects on the local yokels.

What sets this horror film apart from so many of the half-baked, "hey, let's snuff those teenagers again in all sorts of gruesome, but oddly enjoyable ways" cinema of the helpless films that have inundated the theaters lately, is its skillful approach to the technical elements that make a good monster movie, combined with a whimsical splash-it to-the-walls sense of gore. And it leaves out the over-used, angst-ridden teenage gore-fodder, and instead gives us a cast of seasoned actors who expertly chew up the scenery just as the scenery starts chewing them up.

Movie Review: The Magic of The Prestige (2006)

Like a well-performed routine of cups and balls, director Christopher Nolan and writer Jonathan Nolan manipulate the nonlinear twists and turns of Christopher Priest's novel, The Prestige, pausing here and there just long enough to make sure we are watching closely until the revelatory climax. Steampunk science-fiction merges with Victorian-era stage magic in this engaging story of rival magicians striving to upstage one another in a dangerously escalating battle of wits, secrets, and one-upmanship bravado.

Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman) and Alfred Borden's (Christian Bale) obsessions for their magical art, and for one teleportation illusion in particular--the Transported Man--provide the drama in this story set against the backdrop of turn-of-the-century London. Mingling the social horrors of workhouses--where little girls could be sent  for want of money and family--with the wonderment of stage magicians, the headliners of their day, performing their pseudo-scientific and preternatural miracles to the amazement and delight of their Industrialization-era audiences.

Movie Review: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre The Beginning (2006)

Zombos 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.

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.

His 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.

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.

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.