I pick this film as the scariest movie ever made for a variety of reasons. Some reasons are due to the association I have of it to the first time I saw it. I was very young, and I remember hearing about it long before I ever actually had the opportunity to rent it from the video store. It seems like there was a major rumor that it is extremely gory and horribly graphic. In fact, it may have been one of Europe's Video Nasties at one time in the eighties when it was common for any film that depicted acts of sex or violence to make this list of forbidden films. However, when I remember the scenes in the film, aside from the infamous meathook scene, I don't remember very much gore at all. And if I'm not mistaken, the only blood that we really see in the movie is when Sally's finger is pricked with the knife in the unbearable dinner scene.
What scares me about the whole picture is that the whole time I watched it, I remember feeling like I was watching something that was really happening. These were people I knew, friends I could see me riding in a van with, and it would probably be our dumb luck to decide to stop at the worst possible place in Texas. However, I don't think I'd abide by any one of us ever picking up a hitchhiker, let alone one that looked like the guy they decide to give a ride.
I found all the kids in the film to be really likeable, with the exception of Sally's paraplegic brother, Franklin. He seemed very spoiled and really kind of gross, somebody I don't think I'd ever want to spend a Sunday afternoon in the back of a Lester-the-Molester van with no air conditioning. Pam was the type of chick I could really see myself as probably having been friends with, especially in my early college days. In fact, I found her decision to follow her boyfriend into the house to actually be believable. There are so many times that I'm wondering what the hell the characters are thinking, but this is one film where I could really see an honest motivation....just looking to see if they had any gas. After all, these were all good country kids who were probably very accustomed to a close-knit atmosphere in their home towns... really remind me of the kids I grew up with from east Texas and all the small towns all around Shreveport.
Hooper performs masterfully as the director of this debilitatingly horrifying opus. There is truly something about the print and the look of the film alone that makes it even more unsettling. It has an almost grainy quality, as if it were filmed locally, on a very small budget. In fact, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre looks almost like a porno that would have been released during the same era. And what's with the family anyway? Maybe that's the scariest part, the idea that there are, in fact, probably really people out there like that. And one can only sit there, mouth agape, eyes wide, staring at this bizarre tale unfolding before you.
I've heard some say that they felt almost dirty after seeing the movie, that they felt they needed to go have a shower. I am inclined to agree with that sentiment, just as I am inclined to agree with the notion that Hooper's work is almost like watching an underground snuff film... like you've just been handed a print of something that is banned and sold on the black market like a Russian secret.
Not for the faint of heart, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is about an hour and a half of shock, surprise, unrelenting terror, a protracted and jarring chase scene, and the most suspenseful ending of any movie made in the last one hundred years. I've only seen it once in its entirety, and I doubt I will ever be able to actually sit down and take it in any time in the future. However, as a sample of what I consider to be the best and most terrifying horror movies of all time, it is undoubtedly, my absolute number one.
Also recommended: Eli Roth's Hostel, Helter Skelter (The miniseries---in fact, isn't the lady who plays Linda Kasabian, the witness for the prosecution, our heroine here??? I just realized that), Eli Roth's Cabin Fever, Rob Zombie's The Devil's Rejects, Chris Kentis's Open Water, Wes Craven's The Last House on the Left, Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange, Greg McLean's Wolf Creek, John McNaughton's Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer
{I would like to state that several of the movies from the also recommended section for this particular film are not, for the most part, films that I would say were redeemable or well made. In fact, several of these on the list are there simply because they made me have a similar, dirty feeling as Tobe Hooper's film had. However, with the exception of Roth's Hostel and Kubrick's Orange, I don't know if I can find much in the other films that is truly...necessary.}
30 October 2009
2. Black Christmas (1974, Directed by Bob Clark)
To decide on the best film from the slasher genre is a difficult task for a film buff, especially one who doubles as a horror movie aficionado. Let's face it, Alfred Hitchcock opened the door for movies like this. When it was released in 1960, Hitchcock revolutionized the way people became members of the audience permanently. Before Marion Crane stole $40,000 and stopped for the night at the Bates Motel, people would just walk into movies whenever. In order to build buzz around his latest film, he refused to admit anyone to the theatre after the film began. People wondered why, people began to talk, and people walked in to the opening credits, believing they were watching Hitchcock build suspense around superstar Janet Leigh stealing an exorbitant amount of money from her boss and fleeing town... they had no idea what was in store for the movie's heroine when she made that fateful stop for a sandwich and a shower. Film history was made.
The other film that goes without question for this particular genre, of course, is John Carpenter's Halloween. There is no element of Halloween that I do not believe to be completely and totally perfect. The actors, the clothes, the story, and the music that is almost as scary as the film itself; however, Bob Clark had done the same thing several years before Michael Myers escaped the Smith's Grove Sanitarium and went on an All Hallows Eve rampage. In fact, in many ways, I feel that Clark created a boogeyman one hundred times more terrifying than any other character in film history.
The setting is a sorority house, the days leading up to Christmas. Jessica Bradford is one of the girls forced to stay at the house for the holidays while she deals with a personal crisis of conscience. Phyllis is the smart-looking friend who has remained for reasons of her own, and Margot Kidder plays "Barb", a perpetually sloshed alcoholic whose mother has decided to spend Christmas with her new boyfriend rather than having her daughter home from school. As the girls have one last party before most of them depart, we take on the point of view of someone crawling up the house's exterior and into the attic. Then we get our first taste of what the girls have apparently been experiencing for some time: extremely graphic and unbelievably upsetting phone calls from a myriad voices (man? woman? both?) making all sorts of sexually aberrant and violent threats. Then one of the girls is attacked as she packs a bag to leave, but nobody hears her struggles with the party ensuing on the floor below.
When Claire doesn't meet her father as planned, the tension really begins to mount. The phone calls continue, people are missing from town, the police are investigating the events, but can find no definite correlation. The boyfriends all fall under suspicion and it become apparent that Jess's secret has sent her boyfriend over the edge. Then a little girl is found murdered in the park, and the police decide to put a trace on the phone.
Slightly predictable by today's standards, this film is actually able to stand on its own as an experience in tension and terror.
Also recommended: John Carpenter's Halloween, Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho, Sean S. Cunningham's Friday the 13th, George Mihalka's My Bloody Valentine, J. Lee Thompson's Happy Birthday to Me, Dario Argento's The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, Armand Mastroianni's He Knows You're Alone, Roger Spottiswoode's Terror Train, and Fred Walton's When a Stranger Calls
The other film that goes without question for this particular genre, of course, is John Carpenter's Halloween. There is no element of Halloween that I do not believe to be completely and totally perfect. The actors, the clothes, the story, and the music that is almost as scary as the film itself; however, Bob Clark had done the same thing several years before Michael Myers escaped the Smith's Grove Sanitarium and went on an All Hallows Eve rampage. In fact, in many ways, I feel that Clark created a boogeyman one hundred times more terrifying than any other character in film history.
The setting is a sorority house, the days leading up to Christmas. Jessica Bradford is one of the girls forced to stay at the house for the holidays while she deals with a personal crisis of conscience. Phyllis is the smart-looking friend who has remained for reasons of her own, and Margot Kidder plays "Barb", a perpetually sloshed alcoholic whose mother has decided to spend Christmas with her new boyfriend rather than having her daughter home from school. As the girls have one last party before most of them depart, we take on the point of view of someone crawling up the house's exterior and into the attic. Then we get our first taste of what the girls have apparently been experiencing for some time: extremely graphic and unbelievably upsetting phone calls from a myriad voices (man? woman? both?) making all sorts of sexually aberrant and violent threats. Then one of the girls is attacked as she packs a bag to leave, but nobody hears her struggles with the party ensuing on the floor below.
When Claire doesn't meet her father as planned, the tension really begins to mount. The phone calls continue, people are missing from town, the police are investigating the events, but can find no definite correlation. The boyfriends all fall under suspicion and it become apparent that Jess's secret has sent her boyfriend over the edge. Then a little girl is found murdered in the park, and the police decide to put a trace on the phone.
Slightly predictable by today's standards, this film is actually able to stand on its own as an experience in tension and terror.
Also recommended: John Carpenter's Halloween, Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho, Sean S. Cunningham's Friday the 13th, George Mihalka's My Bloody Valentine, J. Lee Thompson's Happy Birthday to Me, Dario Argento's The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, Armand Mastroianni's He Knows You're Alone, Roger Spottiswoode's Terror Train, and Fred Walton's When a Stranger Calls
3. "Spoorloos"/"The Vanishing" (1988, Directed by George Sluizer)
"...obsession...that fixed idea that takes us back time and time again..." --the Basic Text
A film that plows deep into the furthest sulci of the human mind. What drives us? What are our motivating factors? Is it better to search and search and seek the answer until we know we've found the truth? To know that we've gotten the answer to our questions? How far do we have to go to be satisfied? How great is that curiosity... really? Afterall, we know what happened to the cat...
After his one, true love disappears without a trace, Rex finds himself ready to pounce when he hears from a man who claims to be the abductor. After a significant amount of tension building and very crafty filmmaking filled with a study in psychology and vividly compiled symbolism, we see the madman tell Rex that he can show Rex what happened to her better than he can tell him...
Rex follows his instructions....
Rex finds out exactly what happened to his love... and it's truly horrific.
Also recommended: Otto Preminger's Bunny Lake is Missing, Alfred Hitchcock's Frenzy, Jonathan Demme's The Silence of the Lambs, Terence Young's Wait Until Dark, Richard Attenborough's Magic
A film that plows deep into the furthest sulci of the human mind. What drives us? What are our motivating factors? Is it better to search and search and seek the answer until we know we've found the truth? To know that we've gotten the answer to our questions? How far do we have to go to be satisfied? How great is that curiosity... really? Afterall, we know what happened to the cat...
After his one, true love disappears without a trace, Rex finds himself ready to pounce when he hears from a man who claims to be the abductor. After a significant amount of tension building and very crafty filmmaking filled with a study in psychology and vividly compiled symbolism, we see the madman tell Rex that he can show Rex what happened to her better than he can tell him...
Rex follows his instructions....
Rex finds out exactly what happened to his love... and it's truly horrific.
Also recommended: Otto Preminger's Bunny Lake is Missing, Alfred Hitchcock's Frenzy, Jonathan Demme's The Silence of the Lambs, Terence Young's Wait Until Dark, Richard Attenborough's Magic
'Twas the Night Before Halloween and All Through the House...
I'd thought that I was off to a good start with my day. After the storms last night, I figured the only way to go was up. Unfortunately, the suspense that has been building so furiously for the past month was finally to come to a rather shocking and unexpected climax shortly after two cups of coffee...
Opal. The small, irregularly shaped black dot at the very bottom of the toilet bowl. She popped out at 10:02 this morning...Dead on Arrival. The only noise she made was the clink of her connection with the porcelain toilet bowl.
Finally, after a rigorous week of recopying notes and formulating notecards and memorizing stories, I was able to begin celebrating my favorite holiday of the year. He'd been sitting in the kitchen for days... waiting. I put him on layers of newspaper, but I couldn't decide what direction I wanted to go, what face I wanted Jack to have this year. It came to me this afternoon, but I had to finish the Anatomy Lab exam and try to fully re-group from my stonage this morning.
He looks better in the dark. Kind of eerie. I wish I'd been able to get the photos from the flood last night to come in better, illuminated like this.
The perfect Halloween set up. A jack-o-lantern, candles, the lights out, and Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho beginning its story to bring in the holiday...
...which reminds me...
The Morning After
"...came in from a rainy Thursday on the Avenue, thought I heard you talking softly. I turned on the lights, the tv, and the radio; still, I can't escape the ghost of you. What is happening to it all? Crazy, some say. Where is the life that I recognize...." --Ordinary World, Duran Duran
It appears that everything that was scheduled has been cancelled. All classes were dismissed. There are lists of streets that are closed, and places I dare not tread. After being woken from a very pleasant slumber to the phones in the house ringing constantly with Purple Alerts from NSU that campuses are closed and classes will not commence, I had two cups of coffee before peeing out the kidney stone. I took pictures, named it, sent out a birth announcement, and I was surprised that I didn't feel any tremendous pain, just a feeling that something was stuck in my tract before it shot out into the toilet. What's funny is I started to hurt after, and I still have a strange, slightly dull pain in my pelvic region. Photographs are forthcoming, to match those already posted for review on Facebook.
I completed two hours' worth of work on the Activities Binder, and I finished the small list of goals I was hoping to cross off my list before the week is over. There is still a rather large pile of shirts and pants that desperately need to meet the iron, and the porcelain veneers lacquered over the bathroom appear to be developing a biofilm that needs to meet the bleach. I have only one pressing t0-do that's about to pull me out of the warm comfort of my bedroom, and then I'm back home to do the Microbiology shuffle and work on the upcoming quizzes and exam. I also have an Anatomy Lab exam to prep for and take sometime in the next few hours.
I thought I'd take a few moments early this afternoon, the day before Halloween, to post the next in my list of my personal horror top ten. Let's see... we're up to number four now, aren't we?
4. Jacob's Ladder (1990, Directed by Adrian Lyne)
There is something that is seen in war, something that is so horrible and permanently debilitating to those who have been subjected to its wrath never seem to really get over it. It seems as if veterans are changed forever by the experience. My father was definitely scarred from what he saw during the Vietnam Conflict to such a point that he rarely discussed that period of his life, and if it was brought up, very little was said. I remember his very loud, very vivid nightmares waking us all up well into my adolescence, and I never had the chance to actually sit down with him to discuss what it was all about.
This movie is terrifying on so many levels. In fact, there are two scenes that are permanently burned into my memory. The scene of Jacob and Jezzie dancing in the nightclub and the bizarre morphing that begins to occur in the startling strobe light is one I'll never be able to forget. What is she dancing with? Wait... is that her? What in the hell is that? The other is the scene of everyone trying to get Jacob's fever down as they pour him into a cold bathtub and begin throwing ice all over him to try to lower his body temperature. Every time I've been sick and run a fever since seeing this movie, I always revert back to the memory of that scene. Lyne does a fine job of mixing reality with the surreal and is able to effectively deliver a story with something of an intense political message at the same time.
Also recommended: John Frankenheimer's The Manchurian Candidate and Michael Cimino's The Deer Hunter - One could argue that neither is typically classified as a "horror" film. One would have to watch both films and judge that ideology for themselves.
It appears that everything that was scheduled has been cancelled. All classes were dismissed. There are lists of streets that are closed, and places I dare not tread. After being woken from a very pleasant slumber to the phones in the house ringing constantly with Purple Alerts from NSU that campuses are closed and classes will not commence, I had two cups of coffee before peeing out the kidney stone. I took pictures, named it, sent out a birth announcement, and I was surprised that I didn't feel any tremendous pain, just a feeling that something was stuck in my tract before it shot out into the toilet. What's funny is I started to hurt after, and I still have a strange, slightly dull pain in my pelvic region. Photographs are forthcoming, to match those already posted for review on Facebook.
I completed two hours' worth of work on the Activities Binder, and I finished the small list of goals I was hoping to cross off my list before the week is over. There is still a rather large pile of shirts and pants that desperately need to meet the iron, and the porcelain veneers lacquered over the bathroom appear to be developing a biofilm that needs to meet the bleach. I have only one pressing t0-do that's about to pull me out of the warm comfort of my bedroom, and then I'm back home to do the Microbiology shuffle and work on the upcoming quizzes and exam. I also have an Anatomy Lab exam to prep for and take sometime in the next few hours.
I thought I'd take a few moments early this afternoon, the day before Halloween, to post the next in my list of my personal horror top ten. Let's see... we're up to number four now, aren't we?
4. Jacob's Ladder (1990, Directed by Adrian Lyne)
There is something that is seen in war, something that is so horrible and permanently debilitating to those who have been subjected to its wrath never seem to really get over it. It seems as if veterans are changed forever by the experience. My father was definitely scarred from what he saw during the Vietnam Conflict to such a point that he rarely discussed that period of his life, and if it was brought up, very little was said. I remember his very loud, very vivid nightmares waking us all up well into my adolescence, and I never had the chance to actually sit down with him to discuss what it was all about.
This movie is terrifying on so many levels. In fact, there are two scenes that are permanently burned into my memory. The scene of Jacob and Jezzie dancing in the nightclub and the bizarre morphing that begins to occur in the startling strobe light is one I'll never be able to forget. What is she dancing with? Wait... is that her? What in the hell is that? The other is the scene of everyone trying to get Jacob's fever down as they pour him into a cold bathtub and begin throwing ice all over him to try to lower his body temperature. Every time I've been sick and run a fever since seeing this movie, I always revert back to the memory of that scene. Lyne does a fine job of mixing reality with the surreal and is able to effectively deliver a story with something of an intense political message at the same time.
Also recommended: John Frankenheimer's The Manchurian Candidate and Michael Cimino's The Deer Hunter - One could argue that neither is typically classified as a "horror" film. One would have to watch both films and judge that ideology for themselves.
29 October 2009
Paratornadic Activity
If I hear another tornado warning post, I am going to scream. Shreveport has been under assault since this afternoon, and our street has converted itself into a roaring stream... as if we have been moved to newfound lakefront property. Unreal. I've been hoping to come update my blog for the last several hours, but every time I've moved to my laptop, another Severe Weather Alert beeped across the house or sirens went off in a distance or the lightning began to strike like a strobe on gay ravers night at Studio 54.
Silently waiting on the pad beside my computer is the list of films still waiting to be announced as being part of my top-ten. Tonight, I give you numbers six and five.
6. Let's Scare Jessica to Death (1971, Directed by John D. Hancock)
Unless you're a member of the VCR generation of kids raised on weekend trips to the video store, this is a surprisingly frightening gem of unease and tension. I remember first watching the movie late one Saturday night on a local station airing it as "The Late Late Show" or the "Midnight Movie", although I definitely saw it well past midnight. What strikes me most about this film are the memories of all the feelings it gave me. The interiors of the house are sparse and look very old. I remember thinking that the house and the grounds really reminded me of the antique decor and style that was my great aunt Louise's house growing up. For that reason, I came to associate her house with this movie...thereby associating her house with ghosts and dread and insanity.
The story is quite simple, and probably a bit trite by today's standards as the twists and turns and focus on a recently released psychiatric patient have been done and re-done again and again in recent years, but the film's star is sympathetic and believeable. Any time a director can have me wondering what's real and what's not real, I realize that he has definitely done his job. This is a thinking person's foray into terror and madness, and something that still gives me the chills when I give it any further thought.
Also recommended: Brad Anderson's Session 9, Herk Harvey's Carnival of Souls, Nicolas Roeg's Don't Look Now, Alfred Sole's Alice Sweet Alice
5. The Brood (1979, Directed by David Cronenberg)
To watch a Cronenberg flick is to know that you are about to experience the most disturbing and totally unsettling imagery outside a David Lynch film. Where Cronenberg and Lynch stray from each other is in what is implied and what is actually shown. Where Lynch shows us a severed ear in a field and builds a taut story of secrets and depravity around its discovery, Cronenberg is more likely to show us disgusting moment that led to the actual severing of that ear. In fact, Cronenberg is something of a master of taking issues of body dysmorphia to extremes the human race may never have thought possible. It's impossible to say which of his films is really his best, but I know one thing for certain: The Brood scared the shit out of me.
Imagine a moment when you found yourself at your absolute angriest... do you shake? cry? sweat? lash out with your fists? bitingly insult with a caustic tongue? There are many times that I feel anger is the worst possible character defect, I think there is never an appropriate place to channel it. Based on that idea... meet Nola Carveth. She has found a way to channel her anger that has got to be seen to be believed. Absolutely disturbing, gross, jaw dropping, and perverse. If this movie doesn't scare you, then you've got bigger issues than Nola.
Also recommended: Cronenberg's Rapid, Cronenberg's The Fly, Cronenberg's Dead Ringers, David Lynch's Blue Velvet, David Lynch's Eraserhead, Roman Pulanski's Repulsion, Roman Pulanski's The Tenant, David Fincher's se7en, Ridley Scott's Alien
Silently waiting on the pad beside my computer is the list of films still waiting to be announced as being part of my top-ten. Tonight, I give you numbers six and five.
6. Let's Scare Jessica to Death (1971, Directed by John D. Hancock)
Unless you're a member of the VCR generation of kids raised on weekend trips to the video store, this is a surprisingly frightening gem of unease and tension. I remember first watching the movie late one Saturday night on a local station airing it as "The Late Late Show" or the "Midnight Movie", although I definitely saw it well past midnight. What strikes me most about this film are the memories of all the feelings it gave me. The interiors of the house are sparse and look very old. I remember thinking that the house and the grounds really reminded me of the antique decor and style that was my great aunt Louise's house growing up. For that reason, I came to associate her house with this movie...thereby associating her house with ghosts and dread and insanity.
The story is quite simple, and probably a bit trite by today's standards as the twists and turns and focus on a recently released psychiatric patient have been done and re-done again and again in recent years, but the film's star is sympathetic and believeable. Any time a director can have me wondering what's real and what's not real, I realize that he has definitely done his job. This is a thinking person's foray into terror and madness, and something that still gives me the chills when I give it any further thought.
Also recommended: Brad Anderson's Session 9, Herk Harvey's Carnival of Souls, Nicolas Roeg's Don't Look Now, Alfred Sole's Alice Sweet Alice
5. The Brood (1979, Directed by David Cronenberg)
To watch a Cronenberg flick is to know that you are about to experience the most disturbing and totally unsettling imagery outside a David Lynch film. Where Cronenberg and Lynch stray from each other is in what is implied and what is actually shown. Where Lynch shows us a severed ear in a field and builds a taut story of secrets and depravity around its discovery, Cronenberg is more likely to show us disgusting moment that led to the actual severing of that ear. In fact, Cronenberg is something of a master of taking issues of body dysmorphia to extremes the human race may never have thought possible. It's impossible to say which of his films is really his best, but I know one thing for certain: The Brood scared the shit out of me.
Imagine a moment when you found yourself at your absolute angriest... do you shake? cry? sweat? lash out with your fists? bitingly insult with a caustic tongue? There are many times that I feel anger is the worst possible character defect, I think there is never an appropriate place to channel it. Based on that idea... meet Nola Carveth. She has found a way to channel her anger that has got to be seen to be believed. Absolutely disturbing, gross, jaw dropping, and perverse. If this movie doesn't scare you, then you've got bigger issues than Nola.
Also recommended: Cronenberg's Rapid, Cronenberg's The Fly, Cronenberg's Dead Ringers, David Lynch's Blue Velvet, David Lynch's Eraserhead, Roman Pulanski's Repulsion, Roman Pulanski's The Tenant, David Fincher's se7en, Ridley Scott's Alien
28 October 2009
Happy Anatomy Exam Eve
This afternoon, I did something I haven't done in quite a long time: I laid down to take a nap for a couple hours after devouring a plate of the chicken florentine I made for supper. Now awake, I feel rested and clear-headed... ready to take on two more chapters on the circulatory system and the three chapters on the brain, the spinal cord, and nervous tissues.
The solution to the major essay question was finally solved at around one in the morning... right before I was ready to throw in the towel and just do the best I could. I realized that one of the eight Anatomical Chart Company posters hanging in my room is, in fact: The Vascular System and Viscera. The route for this single drop of blood was glaring at the back of my head this whole time, and I'd never looked up long enough to notice. I've alternated some poster placements, and I took the journey of that single drop of blood and turned it into a creative writing to help me remember.
I suppose I could share that with my readers, but I've previously promised two more installments to the list of my all-time horror genre top ten. Tonight, I'll give you numbers eight and seven...
8. Poltergeist (1982, Directed by Tobe Hooper, a man who will make this list twice)
This was the family that we were all growing up with. The mom was a real mom, the dad was a real dad. They were putting in a swimming pool and going about their normal lives. The scares start as low key and subtle, and then the little girl disappears in her closet in the middle of a storm. Spielberg and Hooper did a phenomenal job of remembering everything that scared them when they were little kids: thunder, lightning, clowns, the chairs re-arranging themselves... The things I remember most about this movie were the hushed and whispered conversations and the pink gunk that's all over everybody when they come out of the light... oh, yeah, and everything that happens the night they finally decide to move.
Also recommended: Robert Wise's The Haunting, Peter Medak's The Changeling, Takashi Shimizu's Ju-On, and Dan Curtis's Burnt Offerings
7. The Skeleton Key (2005, Directed by Iain Softley)
Of all the movies that have come out since M. Night Shyamalan's The Sixth Sense have had to have some kind of twist at the ending. Alexander Aja's Haute Tension was an absolute masterpiece of true, visceral horror up until the killer is revealed, and I'm still contemplating just what the hell really went on with those cave spelunkers in Neil Marshall's The Descent. This 2005 feature role for Katie Hudson is a little less contrived, a little moodier, and a little more relatable for a guy growing up in the deep south and always heading straight for the voodoo shops during trips to New Orleans when growing up. There isn't a single second of this movie that I did not find totally seamless, and I never once thought to suspect that everything was leading up to the climax. In fact, I found the twist startling, and I was left sitting there during the credits thinking about the ramifications that the ending meant to the rest of the story. Hudson's not a bad actress at all, but she is very outdone by Gena Rowlands as the suspicious lady of the house and John Hurt as the nearly catatonic patient. The setting looks just like houses I remember passing and seeing glimpses of between the trees and spanish moss when journeying through the most southerly Louisiana parishes. The music, especially from the Papa Justify record really had me feeling like I was right there in the house.... even encouraging Caroline to take the steps she followed in attempting to protect herself. In fact, I was definitely a believer.
Also Recommended: Wes Craven's The Serpent and the Rainbow, John Schlesinger's The Believers, Jack Clayton's The Innocents, Roman Pulanski's Rosemary's Baby, Robin Hardy's The Wicker Man (in fact, I had to really decide between this film and The Skeleton Key for the number seven spot), and Janet Greek's Spellbinder.
The solution to the major essay question was finally solved at around one in the morning... right before I was ready to throw in the towel and just do the best I could. I realized that one of the eight Anatomical Chart Company posters hanging in my room is, in fact: The Vascular System and Viscera. The route for this single drop of blood was glaring at the back of my head this whole time, and I'd never looked up long enough to notice. I've alternated some poster placements, and I took the journey of that single drop of blood and turned it into a creative writing to help me remember.
I suppose I could share that with my readers, but I've previously promised two more installments to the list of my all-time horror genre top ten. Tonight, I'll give you numbers eight and seven...
8. Poltergeist (1982, Directed by Tobe Hooper, a man who will make this list twice)
This was the family that we were all growing up with. The mom was a real mom, the dad was a real dad. They were putting in a swimming pool and going about their normal lives. The scares start as low key and subtle, and then the little girl disappears in her closet in the middle of a storm. Spielberg and Hooper did a phenomenal job of remembering everything that scared them when they were little kids: thunder, lightning, clowns, the chairs re-arranging themselves... The things I remember most about this movie were the hushed and whispered conversations and the pink gunk that's all over everybody when they come out of the light... oh, yeah, and everything that happens the night they finally decide to move.
Also recommended: Robert Wise's The Haunting, Peter Medak's The Changeling, Takashi Shimizu's Ju-On, and Dan Curtis's Burnt Offerings
7. The Skeleton Key (2005, Directed by Iain Softley)
Of all the movies that have come out since M. Night Shyamalan's The Sixth Sense have had to have some kind of twist at the ending. Alexander Aja's Haute Tension was an absolute masterpiece of true, visceral horror up until the killer is revealed, and I'm still contemplating just what the hell really went on with those cave spelunkers in Neil Marshall's The Descent. This 2005 feature role for Katie Hudson is a little less contrived, a little moodier, and a little more relatable for a guy growing up in the deep south and always heading straight for the voodoo shops during trips to New Orleans when growing up. There isn't a single second of this movie that I did not find totally seamless, and I never once thought to suspect that everything was leading up to the climax. In fact, I found the twist startling, and I was left sitting there during the credits thinking about the ramifications that the ending meant to the rest of the story. Hudson's not a bad actress at all, but she is very outdone by Gena Rowlands as the suspicious lady of the house and John Hurt as the nearly catatonic patient. The setting looks just like houses I remember passing and seeing glimpses of between the trees and spanish moss when journeying through the most southerly Louisiana parishes. The music, especially from the Papa Justify record really had me feeling like I was right there in the house.... even encouraging Caroline to take the steps she followed in attempting to protect herself. In fact, I was definitely a believer.
Also Recommended: Wes Craven's The Serpent and the Rainbow, John Schlesinger's The Believers, Jack Clayton's The Innocents, Roman Pulanski's Rosemary's Baby, Robin Hardy's The Wicker Man (in fact, I had to really decide between this film and The Skeleton Key for the number seven spot), and Janet Greek's Spellbinder.
27 October 2009
On The Fifth Day of Halloween My True Love Gave To Me....
"I got the ways and means to New Orleans. I'm going down by the river where it's warm and green. I'm gonna have a drink, and walk around. I got a lot to think about, oh yeah..."
--Concrete Blonde (Bloodletting/The Vampire Song)
My sister said it best earlier today: growing up in the Oliver household meant growing up with Halloween as a national holiday, on par with Thanksgiving or the fourth of July. I read her facebook posts today and I started thinking.
....and remembering the long hours sitting on the closed seat of the toilet while layers of white face paint and fake blood was applied to my face, the house on the corner where a vampire greeted me at the door and left me fleeing back to the sidewalk with a stream of urine running down my leg, the hours of marathons of Halloween and all its sequels, the days leading up to the big candy giveaway, and the great parties we hosted every year in honor of my dad's birthday: Halloween.
Things changed a bit after the spring of 2000. I was forced to grow up in more ways than one, and I guess I left behind some of the childish idealisms that holidays such as these held. Some of the magic and mystique of picking out costumes and buying bags of treats and carving pumpkins passed a bit, but the spirit that surrounds this time of year is still there. I hope I never lose any of that immature spunk that accompanies my steps and thoughts for this time of year. And I hope that Halloween will continue to symbolize a little piece of childhood make believe that will never really entirely disappear for good.
In honor of the great and secret holiday, I'm starting to post clips on Facebook from several films that I think best represent the genre of the horror film. I've seen multiple lists and critical ideas of what they think are the all-time scariest films ever made; however, I've decided to compile my own list of the all-time top ten best (and why).
Rather than putting the entire list up in one post, maybe I can make a commitment to update my blog every day for the rest of the week to slowly reveal to you, my reading public, just what scares me and makes me tick. Some of the films on my list are exactly what one would expect to find on any other top ten list. However, I believe there are a couple of surprises.
10. The Exorcist (1973, Directed by William Friedkin) - I remember my Mass Communications professor during my freshman year at LSUS bringing this one up. She said that it had been released in a serial format in Cosmo or some other magazine, and that she waited for every upcoming issue to finish reading this story. There's a lot of backstory with this particular film. The book was a huge hit, it was supposedly based on a real incident involving Jesuit priests in St. Louis, and the producers of the film went to great lengths to incorporate imagery from every facet of real life that scared people: hospitals and medical procedures, spiders, the Bible, the devil, Iraq.... I would definitely have to say that I saw the movie when I was WAAAAYY too young to watch it (I remember sneaking it in with my brother and Uncle Timmy), but I don't know what appropriate age could ever possibly be assigned to being mature enough to watch it. That being said, I have to note that I spent the next several weeks laying awake, thinking that my bed was shaking, and feeling terrified that I was going to be possessed.
Additional recommendations: Scott Derrickson's The Exorcism of Emily Rose, Richard Donner's The Omen, and Paul Wendkos's The Mephisto Waltz
9. Suspiria (1977, Directed by Dario Argento) - Argento is a master of the giallos, an Italian cinematic art form that, if done right, can be very effective. There are all sorts of elements that should be present: the black-gloved killer (check), beautiful girls being relentlessly stalked only to meet extremely grothesque yet somehow very alluring ends (check), extended chase scenes (check), something of a mystery to the real identity of the killer (check), a main character suddenly thrust into the mystery after seeing something that they have no idea to be significant (check), and the main character suddenly recalling a very important clue that will unlock the answers (check: in Suspiria-- "....the secret... I saw behind the door.... three irises.... turn the blue one!!!"). This was one of the few giallos that also had elements of a supernatural storyline, and for that reason, it is Argento's haunting, colorful masterpiece that one has to see to believe. The music arranged by the Goblins is memorable, the sets are a story in themselves, the blood is so incredibly red, and there is no doubt that the things that we see falling from the ceiling as the boarding school girls begin getting ready for dinner will have anyone watching squirming in their seats. This was the first of three films that Argento calls his trilogy of the "three mothers". The eighties followed with Inferno, then the new milleneum finally gave us Mother of Tears. Although both films have merit, neither will ever compare with the cinematic horror permanently etched into the brains of cinephiles with Suspiria. The only downside, for me, is my wonder why Argento insists on such deplorable dubbing for his films. Doesn't matter, he's still a genius.
Additional recommendations: Mario Bava's Twitch of the Death Nerve, Argento's Deep Red, and Argento's Tenebrae.
Stay tuned. I'll post numbers 8 and 7 tomorrow...
--Concrete Blonde (Bloodletting/The Vampire Song)
My sister said it best earlier today: growing up in the Oliver household meant growing up with Halloween as a national holiday, on par with Thanksgiving or the fourth of July. I read her facebook posts today and I started thinking.
....and remembering the long hours sitting on the closed seat of the toilet while layers of white face paint and fake blood was applied to my face, the house on the corner where a vampire greeted me at the door and left me fleeing back to the sidewalk with a stream of urine running down my leg, the hours of marathons of Halloween and all its sequels, the days leading up to the big candy giveaway, and the great parties we hosted every year in honor of my dad's birthday: Halloween.
Things changed a bit after the spring of 2000. I was forced to grow up in more ways than one, and I guess I left behind some of the childish idealisms that holidays such as these held. Some of the magic and mystique of picking out costumes and buying bags of treats and carving pumpkins passed a bit, but the spirit that surrounds this time of year is still there. I hope I never lose any of that immature spunk that accompanies my steps and thoughts for this time of year. And I hope that Halloween will continue to symbolize a little piece of childhood make believe that will never really entirely disappear for good.
In honor of the great and secret holiday, I'm starting to post clips on Facebook from several films that I think best represent the genre of the horror film. I've seen multiple lists and critical ideas of what they think are the all-time scariest films ever made; however, I've decided to compile my own list of the all-time top ten best (and why).
Rather than putting the entire list up in one post, maybe I can make a commitment to update my blog every day for the rest of the week to slowly reveal to you, my reading public, just what scares me and makes me tick. Some of the films on my list are exactly what one would expect to find on any other top ten list. However, I believe there are a couple of surprises.
10. The Exorcist (1973, Directed by William Friedkin) - I remember my Mass Communications professor during my freshman year at LSUS bringing this one up. She said that it had been released in a serial format in Cosmo or some other magazine, and that she waited for every upcoming issue to finish reading this story. There's a lot of backstory with this particular film. The book was a huge hit, it was supposedly based on a real incident involving Jesuit priests in St. Louis, and the producers of the film went to great lengths to incorporate imagery from every facet of real life that scared people: hospitals and medical procedures, spiders, the Bible, the devil, Iraq.... I would definitely have to say that I saw the movie when I was WAAAAYY too young to watch it (I remember sneaking it in with my brother and Uncle Timmy), but I don't know what appropriate age could ever possibly be assigned to being mature enough to watch it. That being said, I have to note that I spent the next several weeks laying awake, thinking that my bed was shaking, and feeling terrified that I was going to be possessed.
Additional recommendations: Scott Derrickson's The Exorcism of Emily Rose, Richard Donner's The Omen, and Paul Wendkos's The Mephisto Waltz
9. Suspiria (1977, Directed by Dario Argento) - Argento is a master of the giallos, an Italian cinematic art form that, if done right, can be very effective. There are all sorts of elements that should be present: the black-gloved killer (check), beautiful girls being relentlessly stalked only to meet extremely grothesque yet somehow very alluring ends (check), extended chase scenes (check), something of a mystery to the real identity of the killer (check), a main character suddenly thrust into the mystery after seeing something that they have no idea to be significant (check), and the main character suddenly recalling a very important clue that will unlock the answers (check: in Suspiria-- "....the secret... I saw behind the door.... three irises.... turn the blue one!!!"). This was one of the few giallos that also had elements of a supernatural storyline, and for that reason, it is Argento's haunting, colorful masterpiece that one has to see to believe. The music arranged by the Goblins is memorable, the sets are a story in themselves, the blood is so incredibly red, and there is no doubt that the things that we see falling from the ceiling as the boarding school girls begin getting ready for dinner will have anyone watching squirming in their seats. This was the first of three films that Argento calls his trilogy of the "three mothers". The eighties followed with Inferno, then the new milleneum finally gave us Mother of Tears. Although both films have merit, neither will ever compare with the cinematic horror permanently etched into the brains of cinephiles with Suspiria. The only downside, for me, is my wonder why Argento insists on such deplorable dubbing for his films. Doesn't matter, he's still a genius.
Additional recommendations: Mario Bava's Twitch of the Death Nerve, Argento's Deep Red, and Argento's Tenebrae.
Stay tuned. I'll post numbers 8 and 7 tomorrow...
21 October 2009
The Circulatory System and Nervous Tissue
"Everybody's got a heart. Except some people." --Margot Channing, All About Eve
I'm wondering why every time I'm gifted with an opportunity of a few hours to go home, to relax, to get a nap in, to try to score some sleep, I get to my room and realize that the last thing I can possibly do is achieve a state of Nirvana or resign myself to rest and relaxation. Instead, I look around and I see piles of books that I should really be studying, spiral notebooks filled with notes I should be recopying, my planners hanging open on my bed announcing to me every event and appointment and to-do item that has yet to be crossed off the list.
For the past two months, my life has been one organ system after another, the history of human life on planet Earth and the billions of microorganic monsters that are out there just waiting to invade, theoretical probabilities of a standard 52-card deck or a pair of standard, nonbiased dice, the ins and outs of BMI's and waist circumferences...and that's been the fun part. If not that, then it's been one phone call after another from someone else who is pissed at another person or someone who has their heart broken and hopes to have me mend it or someone who needs a ride or to borrow money or some advice... someone who can't hear from the inflections in my voice that I really have to go because this is just one of ten phone calls that I have to return for everyone who left a message while I was in the shower.
I'm just tired. And griping. And being selfish. And feeling sorry for people and events that I probably would be unable to function without.
Still... sometimes it feels good just to get it all out.
Back to the heart's nerve supply and the cardiac cycle and T-waves and P-waves and the QRS and depolarization and repolarization and systoles and diastoles and myocardial infarctions. I'm constipated with all this understanding of a systemic approach to the human body.
... is it just me or do the Atlas models have very nice bodies? I guess it's been so long since I've seen naked people that I forgot what they look like.
There may be a date in my future. A midnight showing of the original Night of the Living Dead. It's that time of year, and I can't think of a better way to spend two hours than sinking down into a seat at the Robinson in the middle of the night to see the horror classic. I hope the company that will be in attendance with me will be as into the freakfest as I am.
Nothing better than a good, old fashioned attack of flesh-eating zombies.
I'm wondering why every time I'm gifted with an opportunity of a few hours to go home, to relax, to get a nap in, to try to score some sleep, I get to my room and realize that the last thing I can possibly do is achieve a state of Nirvana or resign myself to rest and relaxation. Instead, I look around and I see piles of books that I should really be studying, spiral notebooks filled with notes I should be recopying, my planners hanging open on my bed announcing to me every event and appointment and to-do item that has yet to be crossed off the list.
For the past two months, my life has been one organ system after another, the history of human life on planet Earth and the billions of microorganic monsters that are out there just waiting to invade, theoretical probabilities of a standard 52-card deck or a pair of standard, nonbiased dice, the ins and outs of BMI's and waist circumferences...and that's been the fun part. If not that, then it's been one phone call after another from someone else who is pissed at another person or someone who has their heart broken and hopes to have me mend it or someone who needs a ride or to borrow money or some advice... someone who can't hear from the inflections in my voice that I really have to go because this is just one of ten phone calls that I have to return for everyone who left a message while I was in the shower.
I'm just tired. And griping. And being selfish. And feeling sorry for people and events that I probably would be unable to function without.
Still... sometimes it feels good just to get it all out.
Back to the heart's nerve supply and the cardiac cycle and T-waves and P-waves and the QRS and depolarization and repolarization and systoles and diastoles and myocardial infarctions. I'm constipated with all this understanding of a systemic approach to the human body.
... is it just me or do the Atlas models have very nice bodies? I guess it's been so long since I've seen naked people that I forgot what they look like.
There may be a date in my future. A midnight showing of the original Night of the Living Dead. It's that time of year, and I can't think of a better way to spend two hours than sinking down into a seat at the Robinson in the middle of the night to see the horror classic. I hope the company that will be in attendance with me will be as into the freakfest as I am.
Nothing better than a good, old fashioned attack of flesh-eating zombies.
20 October 2009
Comments
I was told that if you are not a validated member, you have been unable to leave comments on my blog. Therefore, I have altered the settings for my site. Go ahead! Comment away! I was wondering why nobody ever said anything...
Reminders
"..the moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me toward salvation. I stopped an old man along the way, hoping to find some old forgotten words or ancient melodies. He turned to me as if to say: Hurry, boy, it's waiting there for you!" -- Toto
It's always a good thing when you receive an email or a card from someone you haven't heard from in a while, especially when that someone is corresponding from the other side of the planet. It helps re-orient me, helps me relocate that directional force that I'd forgotten about for some time.
An email came from Ross today. Always a pleasure. Always reminds me that there are men and women in this world who are overcoming odds that I will probably never face. Always reminds me to keep my chin up, work harder, push a little more, and that just because I will never be completely satisfied and self-actualized doesn't mean that I can't meet happiness at every turn. Sometimes, it takes something brilliant from a PCV teaching Economics in a third-world country to remind me of how precious every moment of this life is.
It's always a good thing when you receive an email or a card from someone you haven't heard from in a while, especially when that someone is corresponding from the other side of the planet. It helps re-orient me, helps me relocate that directional force that I'd forgotten about for some time.
An email came from Ross today. Always a pleasure. Always reminds me that there are men and women in this world who are overcoming odds that I will probably never face. Always reminds me to keep my chin up, work harder, push a little more, and that just because I will never be completely satisfied and self-actualized doesn't mean that I can't meet happiness at every turn. Sometimes, it takes something brilliant from a PCV teaching Economics in a third-world country to remind me of how precious every moment of this life is.
17 October 2009
A Post About My Friend, Sllim
Every once in a while, a friend calls and hits you with things that are so profound and meaningful that you find yourself mulling the conversation over for long periods of time afterward. Today was one of those days. A phone call from Sllim, current ASC chair and fiance of Ms. Krissy Lacobee, came and left me thinking more about recovery and life and wisdom and honesty and doing all the right things for all the right reasons... what it really means to be a man.... what it really means to be a success...
It's funny how two people can be so much on the same page and never realize it until something is said that brings something significant to the forefront of your thoughts for the day. Thank God for Mariann. Thank God for the Steps. Thank God for real recovery... the good kind.
("...the verses below reportedly were written on the wall of Mother Teresa's home for children in Calcutta, India, and are widely attributed to her.")
"People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere, people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy over night. Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today will often be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway."
It's funny how two people can be so much on the same page and never realize it until something is said that brings something significant to the forefront of your thoughts for the day. Thank God for Mariann. Thank God for the Steps. Thank God for real recovery... the good kind.
("...the verses below reportedly were written on the wall of Mother Teresa's home for children in Calcutta, India, and are widely attributed to her.")
"People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere, people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy over night. Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today will often be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway."
04 October 2009
Rainy Sunday, Wake Up in the Late Afternoon
"...they turned her into an overheated sex maniac! ...the woman cannot walk! Overheated and over-sexed, she gave herself an accidental clitorectomy with a hand fan!"
--Beth de Woody, Absolutely Fabulous, Season 4, Episode 6 - "Menopause"
Enjoying the rain. It's been a good day to stay in and keep the candles and incense burning. A good day to finish some assignments and talk on the phone and send cards out to people who are on my mind.
The rain makes one feel lonely at times. I never really feel any degree of stagnation or displeasure with my existence. That is, unless I have the time to really dwell on that kind of thing. Sometimes I think that if I were to make out a list of all the things I'd like as standards in somebody I'm going to share my life with, I believe that I would probably forget too much or be unspecific... likely sell myself short.
I'm fine being single. Love my life. It's just those odd hours in between class and studying and time filled up with action that it lays on my shoulders and has me thinking...
I wonder if that means that I'm really in the Fourth Dimension that Trish Temple and I spend hours discussing on the phone... kind of along the lines of the idea that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. Maybe I'm about to move into the next phase. Maybe because I'm open to the possibility of a life with someone else... maybe I just need to get off the computer and get my Anatomy book out.
I should be studying instead of waxing philosophically.
--Beth de Woody, Absolutely Fabulous, Season 4, Episode 6 - "Menopause"
Enjoying the rain. It's been a good day to stay in and keep the candles and incense burning. A good day to finish some assignments and talk on the phone and send cards out to people who are on my mind.
The rain makes one feel lonely at times. I never really feel any degree of stagnation or displeasure with my existence. That is, unless I have the time to really dwell on that kind of thing. Sometimes I think that if I were to make out a list of all the things I'd like as standards in somebody I'm going to share my life with, I believe that I would probably forget too much or be unspecific... likely sell myself short.
I'm fine being single. Love my life. It's just those odd hours in between class and studying and time filled up with action that it lays on my shoulders and has me thinking...
I wonder if that means that I'm really in the Fourth Dimension that Trish Temple and I spend hours discussing on the phone... kind of along the lines of the idea that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. Maybe I'm about to move into the next phase. Maybe because I'm open to the possibility of a life with someone else... maybe I just need to get off the computer and get my Anatomy book out.
I should be studying instead of waxing philosophically.
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