Film Club: Hellbound

My friends, when this...

...and the name Yoram Globus appeared on my screen at the beginning of Hellbound, everything felt right in the world- right, and decidedly 1985. Now, if you're all "What's the bigs?", then let me tell you: The Cannon Group and Golan-Globus Productions were responsible for a huge chunk of genre output in the late 70s-late 80s, action flicks in particular. From Lifeforce to Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, from American Ninja to American Ninja V, from Breakin' to Electric Boogaloo, from He-Man to every Chuck Norris opus, Cannon simply IS the eighties to a lot of movie nerds, myself included.

Hellbound hit in 1994, after Menahem Golan left Golan-Globus Productions, and it's terrible, terrible, terrible...by which I mean it's the most awesome thing I'll never watch again. Well, okay- it's not truly awesome, but it's so thoroughly drenched in the essence of awesome that it's a bit hard to tell the difference. It's like the shittiest frozen pizza- you may make a note (mentally or literally) that you'll never buy that brand again...and yet, it's pizza and therefore it's still better than anything that's not pizza.

Oh...fine. Hellbound is crap on a crap stick and there's no getting around it. My love of Cannon, though, makes me a total crap denier. Or not a denier, exactly, but my view can be summed up thusly: yes, it's awful, but it's a Cannon film. So, it's awful but I don't really care. I'll never watch it again, but when I talk about it, I'll probably say things like "Oh, Hellbound was great! You should totally watch it." I'm not sure what kind of person that makes me- obviously not one who can be trusted, but there you go.

Hellbound opens with a text crawl, which lets you know that shit is about to get epic up in here. It begins with "The legend says..." and tells of Prosatanos, an emissary of Satan who's going to bring Hell to Earth and blah blah blah. What legend, exactly? It's THE legend, and that's good enough!

To reinforce the epicness, the action starts during the Crusades, with Knights Templar and King Richard the Lionheart on horseback, heading off to stop Prosatanos from...you know, doing everything the text crawl said he was going to do. They seal him up in a tomb and smash his scepter. There are monster-types in Satanic robes to be defeated, and I begin to think this movie is going to rule my world.

Fast-forward to 1951! The tomb is raided (not by Lara Croft, unfortunately) and Prosatanos is set free.

Fast-forward to Chuck Norris, A.D. and the seedy neon-lit streets of Chicago. Norris is Sergeant Shatter (YES I SAID SERGEANT SHATTER), a tough cop, and he's partnered up with Jackson, a Rick James/Whoopi Goldberg-hybrid stereotype who has GOT to be one of the most irritating characters ever put on any screen of any kind, anywhere. Ever. I hated him. I would rather watch a remake of My Dinner with Andre starring Franklin from The Texas Chain Saw Masssacre and Shelly from Friday the 13th Part 3 than suffer through another second of Jackson's antics.

Anyway, here's what we get in Chicago that had me excited...and mind you, we've already seen Knights Templar. This all just reinforced my hopes that Hellbound would become master of all my children days.

• a hooker, with a HORRENDOUSLY dubbed voice, who gets all chiropractical on herself
• said hooker, defenestrated
• Prosatanos, looking a bit like Phantasm's Reggie Banister, acting a lot like Silent Night, Deadly Night 2's Eric Freeman
• A heart ripped out of a chest
• Chuck Norris kicking the shit out of a dude wearing a snakeskin tanktop
• Antiquities kept in fannypacks
• A hardass police captain who surely would have been more at home raping female convicts with broomhandles in some women-in-prison exploitation flick
• Chuck Norris in a high-waisted, shoulder-padded teal suit

I mean...I mean...SEE WHAT I MEAN? Hellbound could do no wrong, but then suddenly it started doing everything wrong. I got a return of "utter disappointment" on my investment of "high expectations" which rivaled that one Christmas where I had totally convinced myself that my parents got me a huge TV- these were the days when having your own TV was still a big effing deal, and I knew for sure that the big box under the tree was a television just for me- but then it turned out to be...I don't even know what it was. I unwrapped it and found it was not a TV, but, like, a blanket. I was crushed for five minutes! Hellbound brought back those feelings, but my state of crushed-dom continues, even several five minuteses later.

I don't know what happened. How did things go so wrong, when they were going oh-so right? Well, maybe I do know what happened: Hellbound got a bit zany. Madcap, even, as our Chicago cops trotted the globe all the way to Israel to figure out the deal with Prosatanos's scepter pieces. There was this...this...piano music and one-car car chases and street urchins and too much Jackson and not enough demons. Granted, any Jackson was too much Jackson, but the minions of Satan were so nonexistent that I had to get my Clara Peller on and bust out a "Where's the demons?" once or twice. For reals, Hellbound could have been the best movie in the history of things that could have been, but lo, the middle hour was just. So. Bad.

And then the last ten minutes happened and suddenly Chuck Norris was slo-mo punching and kicking an emissary of Satan and I thought YES. Yes, this is what I wanted all along. It's all I wanted from Hellbound- well, Chuck Norris beating up demons and maybe an explosion.

Then I got an explosion, as Prosatanos- showing his true, rubber demon face!- exploded all over a tomb in a shower of sparks and smoke. The only way it could have been better was if Jackson had exploded as well. Or instead. Or if he was never there to begin with.

Ah well. Things are rarely as good as we dream them to be, and Hellbound is no exception. By which I mean Hellbound was great! You should totally watch it.

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Film Club Coolies, y'all!
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From Beyond Depraved!

dream a little dream

Okay okay okay...you guys...I had the best dream last night. See, it was about Jack the Ripper, right? Well, in a way it was. Okay, so, the cops were chasing him across London Bridge...and I know that London Bridge isn't anywhere near Whitechapel, but it was a dream, so gimme a break! Anyway, the cops were chasing him and they shot him and he fell into the Thames...only on the way down, this, like, big rock from the bridge came loose and it, too, fell in the river. And yes, I know that Jack the Ripper was never shot, but again...dream. I mean, I've never met Madonna either, but this one time I had a dream that we sat next to each other on the bus, so clearly in Dreamworld anything goes.

Then, all of a sudden, I was in freakin' Arizona! And it was 1985! Dreams are so crazy, lol. Soooo, there was this, like, recreation of an English village or something, except it wasn't very English-y...you know how it is when, in your dreams, you know it's supposed to be something even though if you were awake you'd be like, "Okay, this is not at all like it's supposed to be!"? It was like that. What I mean is, the English village had a gift shop with severed wax heads which, as I said, isn't very village-y, but I remember seeing a sign so I guess it was a village- or at least the Arizonian concept of an English village. But I'm getting off track!

Okay, so London Bridge ended up in the Arizona fake English village. Like, they shipped it over stone by stone...which seems like a really stupid idea, I know. And you're all "Okay, now I know it was a dream!"...but dudes and dudettes, the whole bridge thing really happened. I remember reading about it on The Internet, which I guess is how it leaked into my dream. Weird, right? But it gets weirder!

So, remember that stone that fell into the Thames alongside Jack the Ripper? Yeah, well, the next thing you know, it was found, brought to Arizona, and put in place on the bridge. Next thing you know, someone's bleeding on it- I know, kooky!- and I remember, like, a puff of smoke or fog or some shit and POOF. Jack the Ripper was alive again, in Arizona! I know, it totally doesn't make sense, but there you go.

The best part about this dream, though, was that there were so many cool people there...like Clu Gulager and Rose Marie and Randolph Mantooth and Stepfanie Kramer of television's Hunter and Adrienne freakin' Barbeau! The last time I had a dream featuring all those people, it was like I was a contestant on some game show that was like a cross between Hollywood Squares and Press Your Luck. I was about to win BIG MONEY, but then I woke up. I hate that! Last night, though, my dream went on and on AND ON...and David Hasselhoff was there, and he was a cop who was all "troubled" because he shot a kid who'd robbed a store- Hoff thought the kid was carrying a gun, but it turned out he was actually holding a can opener. Ha ha, dreams be so crazy!

Anyway, the dream was exceedingly boring and stupid and not scary and most decidedly NOT a nightmare, but right before I woke up David Hasselhoff got into a fist fight with Jack the Ripper, so I guess that was cool. Plus, I was sleeping anyway- and what else is there to do while you're asleep then have stupid dreams?

Oh God...that was no dream...that was really happening!

1985 wasn't so bad

So today I was thinking about, you know, like, stuff and stuff, and I was all...hmm. Yeah. "Horror kinda nosedived as the 1980s went on and on." Then I thought about 1985 and I was all, "Well, that wasn't such a bad year." Then I thought about the fact that I used to wear nylon pants in the mid-80s, and how that was a terrible, terrible decision on my part...especially when one considers that I would generally couple said nylon pants with Chuck Taylors and Hawaiian shirts. What the fuck was I thinking?

Anyway, yeah, horror in '85. Some good movies, and a turn toward black comedy. Notable, perhaps. Perhaps not. I guess that's a decision you'll have to make for yourself, consequences be damned. Not unlike opting to pull up some nylon pants.

Return of the Living Dead

This film completely cordoned off a piece of my heart reserved forever and always for Linnea Quigley.

Re-Animator

Gordon + Lovecraft + Combs + Crampton are mid-80s Fab Four as far as I'm concerned.

Lifeforce

SAKES ALIVE. Why oh why can't I zip around the universe all nude-like, shooting lasers out of my eyes? It's all I want in the world!

Fright Night

Three things always spring to mind when I think of Fright Night: 1) Amanda Bearse's magically-lengthening vampire hair; 2) "Oh, you're so cool, Brewster!"; 3) Chris Sarandon's off-white cable-knit sweater.

The Stuff

I've never seen The Stuff. There, I said it.

Demons

This movie makes no sense and it's wicked gross. I fucking love it.

Day of the Dead

Oft-maligned, but I've always dug Day of the Dead. Maybe because it was the first Romero zombie pic I was allowed to see...saw it at the drive-in. Brain chaos ensued. "Yes, sir...fuck you, sir!"

The Company of Wolves

Saw this once upon a time- and when I say "a time", I mean "a horror movie sleepover pizza party time"...meaning, I thought it stunk. Undoubtedly, I need to revisit it.


So...1985. Whatchoo tink?

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