Day 7- On the Seventh Day, She Rested...Kinda

Let's just get this out of the way: no movie or review today. But I swear, I have good reason, I promise! I'm currently in the midst of the 24 Hour Comics Day challenge, you see, and I thought I might have time to squeeze in a review at some point. The comics challenge, however, is kicking my ass- I'll be surprised if I can finish my book in 24 hours. To make up for this crappiness, I'll pull double duty tomorrow. I'm sorry I let you kids down today, but trust me...Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad isn't happy with me either, and he feels your pain.

Sometimes we must sacrifice the horror for other things. It's sad but true. Just be thankful you won't be here 10 hours from now when I still have to draw 10 pages of my book and I've gone mad. It won't be pretty...hell, it isn't pretty now.

As I said on Day 2, I'm a little obsessed with Death Valley, CA. It was second only to the Grand Canyon in most amazing place I saw during my vacation. Therefore, I feel it necessary to point out that tomorrow's Nature (check your local listings, kids!) is Life in Death Valley, and I am super duper wicked psyched.

Yes, I'm a PBS nerd.

So...I promise to get you some reviews tomorrow, but what's going to top a show about life in one of the most inhospitable- and bitchin'!- places on Earth? Whatever else I watch better be good...better be damn good. I give myself 1 out of 10 I'm a bigger letdown than Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad starring in Night of Bloody Horrors.

Day 6- pass the peace pipe

Yup. Uh huh. So...I watched Scalps (1983), and I've been sitting here trying to think of something to say about it.

The plot goes something like this...stop me if you've heard this one before. A group of unappealing college students go on an archaeological dig out in the desert despite warnings about the bad mojo that would ensue if they should dig up any sacred Indian artifacts. The students dig up the artifacts and bad mojo ensues. Specifically, one of the students- the jock- becomes possessed by the spirit of the Indian warrior Black Claw and proceeds to kill all of his friends. The end.

It sounds better than it is, really...Scalps isn't good enough to be good and isn't consistently bad enough to be bad. There's this little Indian head that pops up in odd places, though- in bowls, in campfires- that did liven things up a bit.

The largest problem, I think, is the pacing. The movie is short- roughly 80 minutes- but the first 45 or so are incredibly dull. There go the unappealing college students driving in their giant station wagon! There they go walking up a hill! There they are- wow- talking! When the jock finally gets possessed and you think things are gonna actually start happening in the movie, he immediately proceeds to rape his girlfriend in an extended sequence. As the first real bit of violence in the movie, it sort of sets a tone...a scuzzy tone. I can't say I'm exactly a big fan of rape sequences, but that's just me.

After the girlfriend has been raped and killed, the rest of the gang are dispatched rather quickly. The kills alternate between realistically graphic and gory (the raped girlfriend gets scalped) and laughably fake (in one decapitation sequence, the head starts to fall off before the victim is hit).

Eventually the jock is killed off and only the trippy dippy hippy chick DJ is left. She's possessed and ready for action- action promised in the credits: COMING SOON! SCALPS II: THE RETURN OF DJ...a movie that never came to be. Given the bad taste Scalps left in my mouth, that's probably for the best. I give it 3 out of 10 well, I said something about its.

Day 5- Freddy Shmeddy

Wow! I can finally stop wringing my hands and lamenting that I’ve seen all the good slasher flicks that have ever been made! A little-known gem from the magical era known as the "early" "eighties", The Slayer (1982, from The Amanda Collection) made its way into my DVD player and then straight into my heart. It's renewed my faith that there are good movies I’ve yet to see…there are! There are, I tells ya, and I’m comin’ for ya, Elizabeth good movies, I’m comin’!

Sarah Kendall stars as Kay, one of those moody, fruity “artist types” who’s been plagued by a maniac stalking her dreams since childhood. Kay is convinced that the man from her nightmares will begin manifesting himself in reality, and the thought is sending her rapidly down a spiral into depression. Her husband David (Alan McRae) decides that Kay needs a vacation before she goes off the deep end…and so along with Kay’s brother and sister-in-law, the couple heads to a barren island. Kay has seen the island and its few remaining buildings in her dreams- she’s painted pictures of them even- does this mean her ghastly nightmares will become to pass? Well, this is a horror movie, so one can assume that yes…yes they will.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa WHOA. Did I just type out “plagued by a maniac stalking her dreams” and “the man from her nightmares will begin manifesting himself in reality”? What, you’re thinking, is this dude’s name Freddy Krueger by any chance?

The Slayer absolutely bears some resemblance in premise to A Nightmare on Elm Street, which would come down the pike 2 years later. The execution and tone differ between the two films enough, however, that we can all put down the pitchforks and douse the flaming effigy of Wes Craven. There’s no need to cry "ripoff", but you can totally feel like the coolest kid in the room when some yo-yo at a big fancy dinner party is going off on how bitchin’ Freddy Krueger is and how genius Wes Craven’s “don’t fall asleep” idea is and you bust out the “Pfft. JS Cardone and William Ewing totally came up with that idea YEARS before Craven ever did. What? You’ve never seen The Slayer? Don’t talk to me ever again!”. Then you can throw your drink in their face and walk away in a huff.

For a flick made on the cheap, The Slayer has plenty of atmosphere to spare. I was genuinely creeped out during every single kill sequence in the movie. The spooky sets are kept dark- just dark enough so you never know exactly what is making that tapping sound in the basement…

The gore is plentiful (but not turn-your-face-away over the top) and unsettlingly realistic. Composer Robert Folk’s score, recorded by the National Philharmonic Orchestra, is understated and helps add on the chills.

My biggest gripe with The Slayer is that I simply wish there were more of it; it clocks in at a quick 75 minutes. This is partly due to the fact that the cast is so small- Kay runs with a very tiny crowd. How long can it take to kill off four people? Overall, the acting was better than average, and it’s always refreshing to watch a horror movie that doesn’t rely on the stupidity of teenagers to provide tension- the characters, though mostly grating, are all adults.

As I stated earlier, there are definitely some similarities between The Slayer and the Nightmare series. Craven’s creation, however, has Freddy Krueger- a villain who forced his way, for better or for worse, into the consciousness of horror audiences and went on to become an icon of the genre. The villain of The Slayer is never clearly defined- just who is this guy? Is it even a guy? Does Kay really dream him into reality? Is Kay just a cuckoo nutso artist? Is this all her imagination? The film asks far more questions than it answers, and at the movie’s end we’re left wondering what’s what and who’s who. As for the nightmare man himself, that’s simply another question left unanswered. When we finally get a look at his gooey face (he’s wisely kept completely obscured throughout the proceedings), things become even more surreal…and yeah, he's kinda silly, but I just know that if I saw this dude when I was 10 I wouldn’t have slept for weeks. He is a nightmare come to life, after all.

The Slayer actually gave me the willies several times while watching it, and reminded me just how scary those things that go bump in the night can be. What more can I ask from a horror movie? I give it 8 out of 10 put that in your fedora and smoke it, Freddy- you chump!s.

Day 4- Mama...just killed a man...

I love the 1956 classic flick The Bad Seed.

No, really, I love The Bad Seed. Anyone who doesn't is a jerk.

I’ll get around to writing about it one of these days…I have this weird tendency not to write about my favorite movies because…well, I don’t know why. I always figure, like I said above, that I’ll “get around to it one of these days”. Maybe when I'm old and infirm, close to my deathbed. My helper monkey Otis can type as I dictate my thoughts on Killer Workout at long last.

Whilst perusing the ‘horror’ shelves at Ye Olde Videoe Store yesterday, wondering to myself if there was anything good and scary left out there or if it was all simply low-budget straight-to-video crap, I spotted Mommy (1995) and immediately felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

Don’t get me wrong- Mommy kind of IS low-budget straight-to-video crap, but I DON’T CARE.

This movie, you see, is an unofficial sequel to the aforementioned The Bad Seed and stars the bad seed herself, Patty McCormack. Couple this exciting news with my unabashed love of this horror/thriller sub-genre (see my Stepfather II review from last year's Shocktober!) and the only way I wasn't gonna love Mommy is if the DVD somehow turned into a deadly sawblade or something and started rolling around my house cutting up my cats and my prized Hummel collection. It didn’t, so don’t worry. Hot Cocoa is just fine, and so is Hummel Bells on High.

The she still looks awesome and I wish she was in every movie Patty McCormack stars as the unnamed, titular mommy of the precocious but praise Jebus not cloying Jessica Ann (Rachel Lemieux). Mommy sets about disposing of anyone standing in the way of her getting what she wants. That bitch teacher didn’t select Jessica Ann for Outstanding Student of the Year? So long, bitch teacher! Like any good psychopath, Mommy also “takes care” of any witnesses she may have left behind, like that white trash janitor who knows Mommy killed that bitch teacher and thought she was so big and totally threatened to tell the police.

Jessica Ann is no dummy, however, and very quickly realizes that Mommy might...be up to something. Something like killing! Everyone around her seems to die- including a line of wealthy “daddies”. Unfortunately for Jessica Ann, however, Mommy decides to go on the lam…and before she splits for good, she needs to take care of just one more loose end…

Writer/director Max Allan Collins (CSI, Road to Perdition) has crafted a fun little tribute to The Bad Seed that succeeds despite its ultra-low budget and noticeable lack of violence. The ‘kills’ are incredibly tame and there’s really no violence shown on screen, even though Mommy can do some major damage with her bare hands alone.

Collins utilizes absurdly dramatic lighting in places to bring out some cheeky humor- check out the way Mommy dispatches a jar of strawberries with those eeeevil hands!

Movies like Mommy succeed or fail based almost entirely on the performances of the leads- think of Terry O’Quinn’s fantastic performances in Stepfather and it's sequel, or Rebecca DeMornay’s icy nanny kill machine in The Hand That Rocks the Cradle. Because they’re folks capable of horrendous acts and will kill anyone in their immediate vicinity should the need arise but who seem totally normal when they're not...you know, killing, the lead actor or actress needs to be able to play "nice" and then turn psychotic on a dime…and it only works well if the actor or actress can keep the performance balanced right on the line between serious and campy. Patty McCormack proves she’s only gotten better at this type of role than she was 50 years ago playing sweet-n-psycho little Rhoda I’ll say it again, I wish she was in every movie.

McCormack is supported by a strong cast that includes Jason “Father Damien” Miller, B-Movie Queen Brinke Stevens, and Mickey “it’s Mickey frickin’ Spillane!” Spillane. In her screen debut as young Jessica Ann, Rachel Lemieux really holds her own. I need to track down Mommy 2 ASAP, I tells ya.

Keep my predisposition to seriously enjoy this type of flick in mind before you decide whether or not to give Mommy a chance. It’s a virtually violence-free cheapie thriller. Like I said, this simply doesn’t matter to me…but these…insightful comments from the IMDb boards will give you other opinions- quite the opposite opinions to mine- to chew on:

lequaietermaine: i think that this movie is quite possibly the worst movie that i have ever seen except perhaps for mommy 2. the murders in this movie are really quite pathetic i mean it is so utterly pathetic the way the first two people are killed. that old bat is pathetic. goodnite new york.

Anikan: yes you are quite right this is plain garbage

witty_pseudonym: I don't think this could have possible been worse. So cheap, so ludicrouse, there was not one positive to the whole film.

jeff-1250: I cannot even begin to describe how woeful this one is, well okay l'm reviewing it for an external site so guess l will be doing just that. Was it just my copy or is this movie too dark to actually see what's going down in places ?*

There you go, folks. I give it 6.5 out of 10 now the world don’t move to the beat of just one drum…what might be right for you, may not be right for some! A man is born, he’s a man of means. Then along comes two, they got nothin’ but some dreams, but they got…diff’rent strokes. It takes diff’rent strokes to move the world! Everybody’s got a special kind of story…everybody finds a way to shine! It don’t matter that you got—not a lot! So what? They’ll have theirs, you’ll have yours and I’ll have mine…and together we’ll be fine! ‘Cause it takes…diff’rent strokes, it takes…diff’rent strokes…it takes…diff’rent strokes to move the world! MMMM!s.




*note: there is no "going down" anywhere in the film.

Day 3- WHAT?

Well, they can’t ALL be gems in The Amanda Collection, now, can they? I guess I won't hold it against her. Like Meat Loaf says, "2 out of 3 something something".

Today’s flick, One Dark Night (1983; aka Night in the Crypt, aka Dark Night, aka Entity Force, aka Mausoleum, aka Night of Darkness, aka Rest in Peace, aka Moms Mabley and Her All-Star Jug Band), seems to have all the ingredients necessary to make a B-grade horror film for the ages. Sadly, the ingredients- Adam West, EG Daily, Meg Tilly, a creepy Phantasm-style mausoleum, satin jackets, and telekinesis- could barely muster enough thrills to merit being called D-grade.

Meg Tilly stars as Julie, your typical bookish ‘good girl’ type who wants to join a small group of "cool" kids called The Sisters. The Sisters is made up of the always-welcome EG Daily, a girl with an oral fixation who’s always chewing on a toothbrush, and Julie’s boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend, aka the poor man’s Jenilee Harrison of television’s Three’s Company. I mean, who DOESN’T want to join a group like that, eh? Sure, on the one hand they’ve got matching satin jackets and that’s wicked sweet. On the other hand, however, they’ve got these pants, which are by far the most horrifying thing in the entire movie:

Why such high waists, ladies? I mean, those go far beyond even the high-waisted, gut-accentuating monstrosities known as “mom jeans” into “belt directly underneath the boobs” territory. Please note the helpful graphic I’ve created to emphasize the unnatural distance between waist and crotch. I hope to preserve this image in order to save future generations from such unflattering fashion trends.

The Sisters decide that if Julie really wants in the group, she must pass an initiation. In a…(ahem) sharp departure from horror film clichés, Julie’s initiation includes spending the night alone in a mausoleum. Even (ahem) more radical is The Sisters’ evil plan: to return to the mausoleum later in the night to scare Julie!

Little do they all know, the Russian psychic MalloMar Raymar was interred at the mausoleum earlier and is capable of using his deadly Russian telekinesis from beyond the grave. As the night wears on, the girls are running around the mausoleum, there are telekinetically-controlled corpses “floating” around, and Raymar himself puts in an appearance, looking like something you might find on the shelf at Spencers Gifts.


At this point, you may be thinking that One Dark Night sounds pretty bitchin’and I should quit thinking I'm so big and I should definitely lay off the crack pipe. And you know, in an alternate universe, you very well may be correct. Of course, I’m talking about an alternate universe where you are watching a complete cut of the film, not suffering through a director's rough cut as I did. I received an onscreen warning that I was about to watch a ‘rough cut’ and there was the potential for ‘imperfections’ throughout. Fancying myself one who lives on the edge, I said the hell with it! and continued on, thinking that a few rough edits here and there wouldn’t be a big deal. What I got, however, was a film largely without sound. Yeah, there was dialogue…but there was next to nil for music, long periods of silence, and no sound effects. This made it…uh…REALLY difficult to be excited about this movie. Jump scares simply aren’t effective when they’re fucking silent! Mood is difficult to establish without music, and the surprise of seeing Meg Tilly trip and fall is kind of LACKING when it’s prefaced by the director’s voice saying “Aaaannnnnd…fall!”

At one point during One Dark Night, I had an out of body experience. Suddenly I was floating high above my couch, watching myself watching the movie. Boy, did I look angry! I looked angry, and yet I also looked awful silly, watching a movie with no sound. I think at one point I heard myself exclaim “Why the fuck am I watching this?” and I saw myself flip off the screen with both middle fingers. Then I decided that while my body was clearly an idiot, my spirit was not and would be better off spending the time doing anything else in the whole entire world. Just as I was about to float over toward the bathroom and set about re-grouting the tub, however, the movie ended and I was able to rejoin my corporeal self. We had a Diet Coke together to help ease the pain and I promised not to make fun of myself for suffering so very much for a frickin' blog entry. I give this movie 2 out of 10 well, maybe with some fucking music and sound effects it would rate a 4 out of 10s.

Day 2- Wish You Were Here

Remember the Final Girl World Tour of the Southwestern United States? Actually, I guess I should ask if you remember my absence during said vacation since to the best of my knowledge it was only me and Rachael in the car. Anyway, during my excellent 2-day stay in Los Angeles during my vacation, I finally got to meet some Internerd friends in the flesh, including one Miss Amanda by Night. A word or two about Amanda by Night: she is an amazing repository of movie trivia, she’s much meaner in person than she is in cyberspace (trust me, that’s NOT a negative thing), and despite the fact that she thinks Ken Kercheval- that’s icky Cliff Barnes of Dallas to you, chum- is sexy, we would all have to take two years of classes in Advanced Awesome Theory at our local community colleges to even approach her awesomeness. If you don’t believe me, consider this: during my visit, she hands me a CD holder shaped like a bumblebee. The CD holder is chock full o’ nuts DVDs she’s made for me- made for TV horror movies, horror movies long out of print, horror movies she just plain thinks I should see. Now then…could you or I top that in awesomeness? Heretofore, the movies contained in the bumblebee shall be known in The Amanda Collection, and I shall designate a film as such when writing about it.

Flipping through the bumblebee, trying to decide what to watch for Day 2, I spied a movie called Death Valley…because I’m a bit obsessed with Death Valley, CA and I was just there 6 weeks ago, I got inordinately excited about it. Would my excitement be rewarded or would Death Valley crap on my neck? Well, lemme tell ya, I became even more optimistic as the credits began to roll and names like Catherine Hicks of television’s 7th Heaven, Wilford Brimley, and Peter Billingsley rolled by. That’s Ralphie of A Christmas Story to you chum, in an early screen appearance. Oh yes, this was gonna be good.

Billingsley stars as Billy, a smart little kid who’s trying to deal with his parents’ divorce. Billy’s hopes of a reconciliation are soon evaporated when mom (Hicks) whisks him away from New York so the two go on a vacation out west with her new boyfriend. Their itinerary was to include Arizona, the Grand Canyon, gold mines, and of course Death Valley; man, it was like watching my life unfold right before my very eyes! Except…you know, different because it was taking place in 1982 instead of 2006 and it featured Catherine Hicks of television’s 7th Heaven instead of suntan lotion. But still, it was eerie!

Eventually Billy and co. are toodling around the desert in a station wagon and Billy spies out the back window a very evil looking old car with a shadowy driver. The car zooms past but you totally know it’s bad news, right? Yeah…so does Billy.

Before you know it, Billy is the target of a serial killer operating in the desert. Will he escape Death Valley with his life and/or sanity intact? Sheriff Wilford Brimley sure won’t…he gets a little too close for the killer’s comfort and ends up with a pickaxe in his chest.

This made me sad because for once Wilford Brimley wasn’t acting all cranky and really didn’t deserve a pickaxe to the chest. His tone in those diabetes commercials and those oatmeal commercials is another story, however.


Death Valley is a pretty decent thriller that would have benefited from a tighter script. As it stands, too much information is given away early on that takes away the impact of the ending. What works in this movie really works however: the eerie music, the stark setting, some tense cat-and-mouse sequences, and little itty bitty Peter Billingsley in a cowboy outfit. I'm not one to go crazy over kids whether they're cute or not...but c'mon. I just want to put him on a keychain!

I enjoyed Death Valley a lot (I tend to really dig this kind of horror/thriller), and not just because I’ve been there, I swear. There are some genuinely unnerving moments, but it’s just shy of being great. I give it 7.5 out of 10 did you know that the kid who played Flick in A Christmas Story went on to star in such porn films as The Wrong Snatch? It’s true!s. I wanna go back on vacation to Death Valley, serial killers or no serial killers!

Day 1- Night of Endless Boredom

Maybe I need to get my priorities straight, or become more skeptical or more of a cynic or something. See, the problem is, I'll pick up something like 1969's Night of Bloody Horror and read:

During its promotion, filmmakers glorified the gory scenes saying the film was filmed in "Violent Vision"; while television commercials offered $1,000 to the families of viewers who dropped dead of fright, as well as claiming that many of the scenes were too violent to show on the commercials.

Couple that trivia with the fact that it stars Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad and I'm somehow sure I've stumbled across pure cinematic gold.

But why? Why on earth would I think that? I know it's not going to be as good as it claims. I'm sure I won't be scared. And for god's sake, since when do I get excited about the prospect of Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad being onscreen in anything?

I'm what you might call an eternal optimist about a select few things, the biggest being that I'm willing to give any horror movie a chance. No matter how many times the horror genre craps on my neck, I'm always ready to take more punishment. Yes, I might for a second think "Hmm. I bet this movie is going to crap on my neck...maybe I shouldn't--", but then I immediately correct myself with excuses, hope, selective reading, and a feigned dubious memory. "But!" think I, "Violent Vision! Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad!" and the next thing you know, the movie is in my DVD player, crapping on my neck. This endless hope is a blessing and a curse, I tells ya, not unlike mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Night of Bloody Horror opens with the sounds of a couple quietly humping. After fists have clenched bedsheets and the humping has ended, I was not pleased to see that the skinny fella who dismounted the humpee was none other than Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad. Having Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad in a movie is one thing...having Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad in a movie humping someone is quite another. The problem is, immediately I thought about the fact that in real life, he humps Delta Burke. Not that there's necessarily anything wrong with Delta Burke; she's lovely and I'm all about people with names torn straight from the Greek alphabet. The problem is that after thinking about Delta Burke, I began to think about Designing Women. When I think about Designing Women, I think about Dixie Carter and her fucking righteous soliloquies on that show and how she'd always rail against something for five minutes in some cheap "I am woman" way and she'd end with some sassy zinger and the audience would go crazy, clapping and whooping and...and then I found I was having a hard time concentrating on Night of Bloody Horror because I was blinded by rage at Julia Sugarbaker's soliloquies but moreso at the fact that I've seen enough episodes of Designing Women to have even developed a burning rage at Julia Sugarbaker's soliloquies. Not to be melodramatic or anything, but it puts my entire life into question.

Anyway, soon after the humping, Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad clutches his temples as if he has a headache this big while a pinwheel of color spins around in the air...one can only assume that the pinwheel indicates that we have now crossed into Violent Vision. Suffice it to say, it's a bit of a letdown...not that I had any clue what to expect, but still.

The next thing we know, the girl is getting stabbed in the eye while making her confession to a hooded priest. Hmm...is Violent Vision causing Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad to become...violent?

Fast forward a year and Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad has a new girlfriend, a pasty young nurse who took him home after he got roughed up by some hooligans one fateful evening. We learn of their budding romance through that most unique of cinematic devices: the musical montage. This montage, however, is leagues above all I've ever seen before for one reason. No, it's not the late-60s lite music playing...it's the fact that it's a montage of still images. We see the young couple walking past a roller coaster, standing by a tree, having dinner, and in my favorite photo, smoking together at the dinner table.

Soon enough, Violent Vision does its twirling thing and the pasty nurse has an axe in her chest.

And so on and so forth for another hour. There's fistfights, laughable special effects, a musical interlude featuring the psychedelic rock of The Bored (how appropriate), and some garbled family history for Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad involving shotgun "accidents", dead younger brothers, a shrew-y mom, and insane asylums. Is Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad really a cuckoo nutso killer? The answer lies somewhere in this secret recipe:

Take one brother accidentally killing another with a shotgun, the grief over which leads to their father committing suicide. Add to this a zesty sprig of the mother who has decided to store the bodies of her dead husband and son in the basement. Sprinkle on some spite towards the son who's still alive. Bake for 80 boring minutes and...no, Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad is not the killer.

Perhaps Night of Bloody Horror would have been better if I were on drugs. As it was, I was only high on Diet Coke during the viewing and thus can only give this flick 3 out of 10 Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dads. Thanks for crapping on my neck, Day 1!