Monthly Archives: July 2011
Katharine Isabelle is known to horror fans for her roles in Freddy vs. Jason, 30 Days of Night: Dark Days and Insomnia. Her most famous role is as the title character Ginger Fitzgerald in the Ginger Snaps Trilogy. The last time a werewolf looked this alluring was Elisabeth Brooks in The Howling.
Katharine has also made appearances on Smallville, Supernatural, The X Files and Macgyver. It is for her contribution to horror films and to the werewolf sub-genre that she has been chosen as our Scream Queen of the Month for August 2011!
- Ginger Snaps (jmountswritteninblood.com)
- Louise does Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning [Wild Weird West Week] (mutantreviewers.wordpress.com)
CYRUS: MIND OF A SERIAL KILLER=United States-2010
Written and Directed by Mark Vadik
Cyrus: Mind of a Serial Killer is a complete piece of garbage with no value or quality. It pretends to be a horror film that takes its subject matter (serial killers) seriously; when in reality it knows even less than the average person about it. Director Mark Vadik claims that he based the titular character on German serial killer Fritz Haarmann. That’s all well and good, but did he have to throw in Henry Lee Lucas, Gary Heidnik, David Carpenter Ray and Robert Hansen into the mix? It doesn’t come off like Vadik has knowledge of serial killers; it comes off as pretentious and indecisive.
The plot is threadbare and not worth going into. To put it in a nutshell it’s about a newswoman (Danielle Harris) who interviews a local yokel about a legendary serial killer named Cyrus Danser. I can tell you right now that the idea was done better in Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon. Cyrus comes off as the film that’s been there, done that. As for Danielle Harris and her performance; let’s just say I’ve seen sixth graders with more ability. Brian Krause grunts and speaks in a Neanderthal tone of voice in the title role. Lance Henriksen is his reliable self and does a good job with what he’s given. But even he can’t save this film from being excrement.
My advice for Mark Vardik is the next time you get the urge to make a serial killer movie, don’t. You are way out of your element and would only cause yourself further humiliation. Oh, and Mark, remember that there are people like me out there that just love rubbing your nose in it.
One of my all time favorite things to do is reply to ridiculous e-mails. A couple of months ago I got an e-mail whose topic was “John, you too can have bigger breasts!” I kid you not. Now, I could have easily deleted the e-mail and went on with my life. Alas, that’s just not me. I had to respond. I mean, send me a stupid e-mail, and get a stupid reply. So here, just because I need something to write about for my blog, is my response, which I did send, by the way.
To whom it may concern,
It is amazing that you would send me this e-mail for an offer of having better breasts. It was just the other day that I said to my wife, “Honey, if my boobs were as big as yours, would you still love me?” After she rolled her eyes, she smiled and said that she would, indeed, still love me. She even told me that she would let me borrow a few of her brassieres if I would order my breasts the same size as hers.
So, I want to put an order in for one pair of breasts. I feel that they will add a whole new dimension to my looks, my social life and that they will open new windows of opportunity in my future endeavors. Enclosed you will find my address, my phone number and a picture of Salma Hayek baring plenty of cleavage. I feel that she has the type of breasts that I would want. So, I will end this letter so that you can get to work on my magnificent hooters.
I sent that e-mail 6 months ago. I have heard nothing from the company since. My question is what kind of country do we live in that a man can be promised, but not delivered, bigger breasts? If I had my hooters, which I do not, I would stand topless at my window and I would shout “I am mad as hell and I am not going to take it anymore!!”
If you watch a horror film it means one thing; that deep down you want to be scared. You want that fear to creep into your body, those cold chills running down your spine. But the more and more you watch the more jaded you become and the more you take that fear for granted. That’s the way I’d become. Every horror film I watched drew me farther away from the very reason I love them so much to begin with. I want to be scared. I want to feel like I’m being watched in an empty room. I want to tuck the covers tight and keep my feet under them at all times. I want to check under the bed for monsters and pray that I find none. That kind of horror film hasn’t happened for me in so long that I was afraid it would never happen again. But tonight I saw a horror film that made me feel that old familiar feeling of fear. The film is Insidious and it’s directed by James Wan and written by Leigh Whannell, the creators of the original Saw.
Patrick Wilson and Rose Byrne star as the parents of a young boy who suffers a fall and slips into a coma. There’s no medical explanation and pretty soon we learn there is no need for one. Something malevolent wants this child and will stop at nothing to have him. His mother and father enlist the help of a woman and her crew who specialize in unexplained phenomena and the paranormal. She tells them that their son is a traveler in the astral world. Because he thinks he is merely asleep he is unafraid and becomes trapped there. This leaves his body open for possession by the dead and by demons, especially a hideous red faced being hell bent on taking the child’s body for his own. Can the parents save their child, or is he lost to them forever?
There were a few times in the film that I thought they went to the well too many times. I began to feel that they used the red faced demon as shock value way too often. But then I realized that Wan and Whannell are playing on our oldest fears. When you were a child, how was the devil depicted to you? He was red faced with horns, a pointy tail and a pitchfork. Wan’s demon brings back those old memories in a flood of fear and reminiscence. Insidious never relies on gore as a scare tactic and nor does it have to. While it does borrow from films such as The Exorcist, Poltergeist and of course the more recent Paranormal Activity it never feels like a copycat.
It may be too soon to call Insidious a masterpiece; so I’ll pay tribute to it in a more traditional way. I’m going to check under the bed and keep my feet tucked in.
Directed by Mike Nichols
Written by James Harrison and Wesley Strick
When you think of Jack Nicholson, what comes to mind? Was it his Oscar-winning turn in One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest? Perhaps it was his scenery chewing Joker in Tim Burton‘s Batman. You don’t think of Nicholson as Nicholson; you think of Nicholson as NICHOLSON. So why in the hell is his performance as Will Randall in Wolf so understated as to be practically non-existent? The one time we want to see Jack howl is the time he chooses to whimper. The last time I saw a performance this understated from a werewolf was Henry Hull in Werewolf of London. Nicholson literally has the movie stolen right under his snout by James Spader. Don’t think Mr. Spader doesn’t run with it, either. I am hard pressed to think that there is any other actor so adept at playing a smug, backstabbing kiss ass as well as he does.
Michelle Pfeiffer is as gorgeous as always, but like Nicholson her performance is dialed down a notch too much. I’m not saying she should be running through flaming hoops butt naked (there’s a mental picture), but she could at least have shown a little more enthusiasm for the role.
It all comes down to lay the blame on 0ne person and that is Mike Nichols. Nichols has made a cookie cutter version of a werewolf film. You can practically see the numbers; 1. Man bitten by wolf. 2. Man becomes wolf 3. Man falls for beautiful girl and feels he is a danger to her 4. Man as wolf man fights for beautiful girl. It all adds up to boring, boring, and boring. Wolf fails as allegory, also. Man as wolf is representational of mid-life crisis? I’m just not feeling it.
The next time a big name Hollywood director wants to re-make a traditional monster film they need to take a page from Francis Ford Coppola. His Dracula may have been hammy as hell, but at least he cared.
Directed by Andrew Traucki
Written by Andrew Traucki and James M. Vernon
When I was growing up in South Carolina, my family would travel to Myrtle Beach for vacation every year or two. The one thing I remember most about those trips was swimming in the Atlantic. The water was murky and I would always imagine that all of a sudden a great set of jaws would appear out of nowhere right in front of my face. After viewing The Reef, I get the feeling that writer-director Andrew Traucki has had the same experience at one time or another. The Reef is another in the long line of shark films to ride the wave that Jaws set into motion thirty-six years ago. It could easily be described as “Jaws Meets Open Water”.
The film is about five friends who go on holiday on board a yacht in Australia’s Great Barrier Reef. The ship hits a reef and eventually capsizes. This leaves the five of them to make a decision; swim for it and try to reach the nearest land or stay put and risk drifting further out to sea. I’m not giving anything away by telling you that four decide to swim for it while the other stays behind. The question is, who is in a more of damned if you do, damned if you don’t predicament? Is it the one who stayed behind or the four who take their chances with the water and the sharks? One shark in particular has his eye on them and is making reservations for his next meal. To steal from a classic film “Who will survive and what will be left of them?”
The Reef is not a perfect shark movie. It drags at the beginning and takes a bit too long to build a suspenseful atmosphere. When it does, there is no stopping it. The film is most harrowing when the shark is nowhere to be found. Just like those vacations on Myrtle Beach, I kept expecting it to appear out of nowhere. Sometimes it does, sometimes not. Not knowing what awaits you is the scariest of all.
The film is based on the true story of Ray Boundy, who was the sole survivor of a similar incident in 1983.
BABES OF HORROR
So, why am I doing a list featuring the beautiful babes of the horror genre? Why not? I like lists, I adore women and I love horror. So, let’s cut the chit-chat. In no particular order here are the ladies.
I have two words for you. Santanico Pandemonium. I have never been more envious of a snake than I was in From Dusk Till Dawn. She tells George Clooney “You’ll be my slave. You’ll live for me…Welcome to slavery. At that moment I bet there were a lot of guys wishing they were George Clooney.
Let’s face it; if you could look as hot as Rose with a machine gun for a leg, you’d let zombies chew yours off, too. Planet Terror rocked and Rose kicked ass!!
If it weren’t for Milla Jovovich, do you really think anyone would give a shit about the Resident Evil films? After the first two they really just aren’t that good. But Milla keeps us coming back for more.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; Leatherface should have been chasing Jessica with flowers and a dinner invitation, not a chainsaw. That boy just wasn’t too bright.
In The Ring, Watts protected her child from a deadly curse. In King Kong, she was the big ape’s main squeeze. Watts is a beauty of an old fashioned quality.
After her turns in Slither and The Uninvited, who wouldn’t want to make a porno with Elizabeth Banks?
House of Wax and Captivity sucked big-time like Tommy Tammisimo in The Sixth Sense, but Elisha is smokin’ hot in both of ‘em. The girl next door was never so sexy.
With Dario Argento for a father it was an inevitability that Asia would become a scream queen. With Romero’s Land of the Dead and her father’s Mother of Tears she establishes her turf as a beauty to be reckoned with.
Beauty, talent and class. Those three words describe Bug star Ashley Judd to a T.
She can’t act and she can’t keep her mouth shut. So, what is the star of Jennifer’s Body good for? Looking damn good, what else?
Directed by Toby Wilkins
Written by Ian Shorr and Kai Berry and Toby Wilkins (uncredited)
Toby Wilkins must surely be a John Carpenter fan. I see elements of Carpenter’s Assault on Precinct 13 all over his movie, Splinter. It is the tale of a fugitive and his girlfriend and the couple they take hostage. But wait, you have to throw in the fact that they are holed up in a gas station in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, they have a parasitic creature with splinter-like spikes growing out of its body waiting outside to tear them apart. Of course as is the case with any parasitic creature whatever it attaches to becomes a part of it. So now the fugitives and the lovely couple must work together if they’re going to survive the night.
Splinter is one of those films I kept passing by when I would see it in the video store. From the blurb on the back of the DVD shell it sounded like a good movie and a decent addition to the horror genre. But day after day, I passed it by. But now not only do I own it, I have also watched it and can give my opinion on it. My honest take on the film is that although it’s not really a good movie it didn’t suck, either. Wilkins has surely done his homework as director and I see a better movie in his future, but Splinter is not that movie. I said earlier that Wilkins must be a fan of Carpenter and his films and I believe that’s a good thing. But the trouble with Splinter is that Wilkins focuses too much on homage to Assault on Precinct 13 and doesn’t throw enough of his own vision into the film. Perhaps if he had done this he would have had a great movie. Instead, he must settle for one that doesn’t suck.
At the end of the movie Farrell gives Seth the key to a lock box in a bank in Platt and tells him to go there to get his nest egg to give to the trucker’s wife. The address listed on the tag is 1060 W. Addison. This is the address for Wrigley Field, the home of the Chicago Cubs in Chicago, IL.
It appears that I have adopted a dove. At first I thought it was a pigeon, but after careful study I am now fully convinced that it is, indeed, a dove. It is a beautiful animal and aside from the occasional peck it is quite docile. I am not sure if it is injured as it doesn’t appear to be in any pain. I taught it to drink water from a straw. I dip the straw in water and put my finger over the top of the straw, sealing the water in. I hold the straw to its beak and it sticks it into the end of the straw and drinks. I have given it bird seed to eat. I also have found out that doves like broccoli, cut-up apple pieces and bread crumbs.
So, in between working, being sexy, writing this blog and other various activities I am going to be a father to this avian creature I have become attached to. Wish me luck. I took a couple of pictures to show you. I found out that it’s more than likely a rock dove. Which means I can get a little pair of headphones and crank up the Springsteen for it. Just kidding. It’s more of a Hendrix fan.
GROWING OLD-A POEM
Before you read the poem, which is in the big, bold letters, I want to say that I haven’t written poetry in a long time. I’m not going for a large word count, I’m not trying to be profound. I am doing what I always do. I am writing about what I feel in the way that I feel like writing about it. I just watched Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino and to be honest I’m in a curmudgeonly mood. So, I hope you like my poem. If you don’t, well there’s just not a lot I can do about that, now is there?
Growing old is a bitch
I turn 50 next year
I gripe, piss, moan
and drink lots of beer.
Growing old is a pain
in my joints and my ass
I fart around all the time
’cause I got fuckin’ gas.
Growing old is a whore
who wants all your dough
She took my real teeth
a long time ago.
Growing old is a ghost
Who hides from the blind
When I get my new glasses
Its ass is mine.
Growing old is a part
of our everyday life
For father and son
Husband and wife.