Friday, November 30, 2025

Mamaaaaaa, Just Killed A Man...

Ah, Mother's Day. 








The day when our mom's would LOVE to be pampered and spoiled (but will really just settle for breakfast in bed (which she will not eat because toddlers aren't allowed near the stove for a reason) and us going outside for more than an hour at a time). 

Or, if you're Lloyd and Charles Kaufman, the day where scary hillbilly mothers send their children out to rape and murder.  Of course, that's EVERY day to Troma films.  And, seriously, this is the entirety of the plot, barring the three girls that go all Rambo to protect themselves.









You would think, coming from the studio best known for The Toxic Avenger, that this would be one of the worst movies ever made.

SURPRISE!!!



Butt-Sex



It's actually a decent movie.

I mean, it's obviously b-grade but considering that this is the 80s and we're smack in the middle of the era of girls all talking alike, the script and the acting are not bad at all.  They're just bad enough to make the entire movie hilarious, but the movie isn't at all painful to watch.

And it looks like Lloyd coughed up enough cash to make this a decent production.  We're not talking about the standard Troma "Sony Handi-Cams and Duct Tape" productions that we usually get.  They actually TRIED and sometimes it really is the thought that counts.

My mom taught me that. 

She didn't teach me how to keep my mouth shut, but she taught me that the thought counts.

I love my mother but damn.  Really? 

Sass only gets you so far, Mom.

Thursday, November 29, 2025

Isn't He Jewish?

When you hear the name "Bill Goldberg", Christmas does not immediately come to mind.

A wrestling ring, a lack of pants and a couple cans of whipped cream, maybe, but not Christmas.

David Steiman and Brett Ratner, on the other hand, decided to present us with this holiday tale of blood, gore and good, old-fashioned, barely disguised Jewish disdain of Christian holidays with Santa's Slay.




You would THINK that this would be just AWFUL, but any movie that STARTS with Fran Drescher and Chris Kattan getting massacred gets bonus points.

So, here's the story.

Santa Claus is actually the Anti-Christ whose story is told in The Book of Claus.  He is the result of a virgin birth produced by Satan and the only reason he's been giving gifts for the past thousand years instead of an annual day of slaying is because an angel beat him in a curling match.  This is told in Rankin-Bass-esque animation. 

Did I mention that this was filmed in Canada?


Eh, hoser!


So, anyway, in 2005, that deal ended so Santa is free to rampage across the Earth.  He apparently likes strippers unless they reject his advances, then it's roasted silicone on a stick.  His reindeer are man-eaters and, in general, he acts more like Krampus than the avuncular, Coke-swilling, carpet soiling, cookie munching, gift giver we all expect.

Now, you would THINK that this would be just plain AWFUL considering  Hulk Hogan's Hollywood career, but it's really not that bad.

Fuck you, Hulk Hogan.


For one, Goldberg doesn't talk that much.  That probably saves him.  For two, the whole movie is pretty much a giant fuck you to all of those assholes that are all "I'm a Christian, I hate all that PC "Happy Holidays" crap!"

I'ma step on my soapbox here for a second:  There are other religious and secular celebrations that occur in December.  Jewish folk don't force the rest of the world to say Happy Hannukah.  Africans don't force others to say Happy Kwanzaa. Happy Holidays spreads cheer to everyone.  Stop being selfish.  December belongs to everyone and, frankly, most of us just look forward to the paid days off.  If I give you a heartfelt "Happy Holidays", hushyerface and accept it. 

*Ahem*

Sorry about that.  Let's continue.

So, yeah.  This is, much like ThanksKilling (and pretty much any other holiday movie out there) a reason to bust out the Christmas puns and that's not necessarily bad.  This is surprisingly well-written and the acting isn't bad plus you get to hear Santa say "I'm Santa Claus, not fucking Dracula" so I say give it a watch. 

Plus there's bad accents and Fran Drescher being set on fire and drowned in egg nog.

It's like they knew exactly what to get me for Christmas.

Wednesday, November 28, 2025

Can You Hear Me Now?

In my ongoing series of visits to Trope-Town, I strive to educate you as to WHY certain plot devices appear in every goddamned movie EVER and today is no exception.

Today's lesson:  The Telephone:  Friend or Foe?


Hello, room service?  Would you please send up some fresh towels and barbituates?


For the majority of the 20th century (and, let's face it, we're talking until the mid-to-late 90's, here), the telephone was relegated to the home.  Even when cell phones were starting out, they were few, far between and INSANELY expensive so most people just had one or two lines (like, actual wire) at the house and if you needed to make a call outside of the home, you used a pay phone.

Yes, I know that anyone under the age of 25 has never even SEEN a rotary phone, let alone lived without a cell phone.  Stop making me feel old or you get the pimpin' hand.




ANYWAY, this is all going to seem very matter-of-fact and common sense but bear with me. 

The telephone is a connection to the outside world and it has been ever since Alexander Grahame Bell beat out all those other punk-ass bitches for the patent on voice transmission by wire.  It reduced isolation in our society (or, if you're a luddite, increased it, but, then again, you wouldn't be reading this if you WERE a luddite so I'm going to ignore you and go on with my life) and, eventually, it not only gave us a means for communicating with friends, family and business associates, but it also became part of our emergency services infrastructure.

As time went on, we determined that the telephone is the most important thing in our lives, EVER, so we invented toll-free numbers, phone sex lines, Dionne Warwick's Psychic Friends, the cell phone and, as of now, the smart phone which gives us a tiny computer in the palm of our hand so we can find new and interesting ways to screw with our friends and get into car accidents.


I 8 UR BRAKES!  LOL!


What does all of this have to do with horror movies?  EVERYTHING!

First off, as I've mentioned before, isolation is a common plot point in horror films.  If you can't get help from others, how are you going to get out of whatever nasty predicament you're in?  Enter the telephone.

The telephone is how we expect to be able to get help to come to us since we can't seem to find our way out of a wet paper bag.  Of course, it's never going to be that easy, is it?  In the olden days of yore, some asshole with a set of tin snips would always cut the wires or, if you already knew who the villain was, they would inevitably yank the phone out of the wall socket.  (You also see this in films that take place prior to cell phones such as The Afflicted.)  Nowadays, it's always "Damn, I can't get a signal" or, if there's no problem with the signal strength, "Damn, my battery died" because no one ever thinks to bring a car charger with them. 




Seriously?  Five bucks.  Invest.

As for that OTHER nifty thing ye oldee-timey phones can do, they can also provide a means of intimidation.  Prank calls, heavy breathers, and, my personal favorite, "THE CALLS ARE COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE!" 

See, kids, back when everybody had to have a landline by default, if you had 2 phones in your house, you could actually dial the downstairs from the upstairs and we didn't have caller ID.  This led to lazy children and urban legends about serial killers who torment babysitters.  The kids upstairs never had a chance.  The best example of this in film is the Carol Kane classic When a Stranger Calls.  Not so successful was When a Stranger Calls Back.  This is because we're pretty sure that the stranger is plain fucking stupid to be calling back the person they made genre-savvy.

Mostly, this is played straight.  Even Scream, the genre-savvy rebirth of the slasher, tried to make a joke out of it (this is JUST before Caller ID was prevalent) but it eventually turned into one of the most iconic horror scenes ever filmed.  This doesn't keep the Scary Movie franchise from making lame-ass poo jokes about it, though.

And, finally, back when we had corded phones, they often times served as a handy weapon.  Those coily cords could not only tangle indiscriminately, but they could choke a bitch out.  All cell phones can do is give Naomi Campbell ammunition.  Unless you live in 1973, a modern cell phone would have to be thrown pretty hard to do any real damage.  The MOST we're talking about, nowadays, is an eye-scream moment and since they ditched antennae there's not a lot to worry about there, either.

So, there we go, kids!  The telephone is your friend... unless you're in a horror flick.

Now, go call your mother.  She worries.

Tuesday, November 27, 2025

Fool Me Once

Blogger's... ummm... Blog.  Day 4 of Holiday Horror:  April Fool's Day.








Not the first, and certainly not the last, of the Spring Break Slasher flicks, this 1986 kinda-Canadian barker is another one of those lukewarm horror flicks that were churned out during the Slasher Renaissance of the 80s, those carefree days when nobody cared about plot or back story and just wanted to see death and boobs and boobs and death.

(Compare and contrast with the Slasher Reformation which began in 1996 with Scream, where the genre-savvy teenager started both throwing the slasher off his game and, ironically and stupidly, falling into the same damn traps.)



Hello, doctor?  Is there a pill to cure unnecessary angst-face?

It's your standard premise, really.  A bunch of friends with stupid, stereotypically rich-kid names, Harvey, Nikki, Rob, Skip, Nan, Kit and Arch, take a Spring Break trip to the fabulous island vacation home of Muffy St. John.  (Not a cabin this time.  Color me shocked.)  Muffy, it seems is a bit of a jokester.  With a name like Muffy, I'm certain this is a defense mechanism.  Much like her drifting into flashback when she finds a Jack-in-the-Box, because you take your happy places where you can get them, I suppose.  Anyway, the tone is set when a deckhand gets injured when they pull into the dock.

So, as the night progresses, the intensity of Muffy's pranks gets worse and worse.  Heroin left out.  Tapes of babies crying.  And at some point, Skip goes missing.  Bodies start popping up everywhere.  Muffy has an evil twin named Buffy.  (Also, I'm sure, a defense mechanism.)  The deckhand has a creepy brother who's main hobby is being a red herring.  All your usual bullshit.


There's a kick to April Fool's Day, though, that threw a lot of folks for a loop and seriously, if you haven't seen this one, far be it from me to ruin the joke. I WILL say that this is not a slasher flick so much as a Scooby-Doo Mystery.  Seriously?  All these bitches needed was a talking dog and this movie would have been perfect. 

That being said, it's not a bad way to spend a couple of hours.  If anything, you can always make fun of the 80's fashion, huge hair and tightey-whiteys.  Well, maybe not that last part.  It was actually kind of refreshing in the middle of all of the horror movies that tried to avoid plot altogether.

Anyway, I have to go unmask some villains and stock up on Scooby Snax.  
They would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for us meddling kids.

Monday, November 26, 2025

A Break...

If you guys have an hour to kill, check out Darren Lynn Bousman's The Devil's Carnival!



No questions.

Just do it.

This is awesomeness in it's purest form.

Yes, it's a musical.  Yes, it features Ghost from Slipknot, Emilie Autumn and Ivan Moody from Five Finger Death Punch as the sweetest singing and hottest hobo clown, EVER!






Ivan Moody has the permissions, with or without makeup.  ALL THE PERMISSIONS!!

Mind blown.

Pants dropped.

Just sayin'.

NAUGHTY!

Today's third installment of "Holiday Horror" is a perennial favorite.




On November 9th, 1984, Charles Sellier Jr. gave horror fans a reason to look forward to the holidays.  Santa was here, bitches and he was PISSED.

OK, so it wasn't really Santa, but the idea of a killer in a Santa suit was a relatively untapped area of the psyche.  (At least, untapped in those who completely forgot about Christmas Evil just 4 years earlier.)  I mean, we all grew up with the stories.  Santa knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you're awake... Santa, apparently, has more wiretaps and surveillance cameras in place than the CIA and frankly, if you're not completely paranoid by the age of 5, you'll never be a believer.




The story goes like this:  Kid witnesses his parents getting killed by a robber in a Santa suit and instead of becoming Batman, he goes completely binkers when he has to wear a Santa suit when working at a toy store for the holidays.  Seems to select victims by way of "naughty or nice".  No one is "nice".  Hilarity ensues.

Hey, I never said it was deep or complicated.

Now, considering that Nightmare on Elm Street came out the very next weekend, suffice it to say that this was quickly relegated to the bargain theaters but it still made a decent profit over all for an independent film.  In fact, it actually made a profit during it's opening weekend as compared to Nightmare which did not.


And, yet, now we have to deal with THIS crap.


As I noted last week, one of the biggest reasons behind this movie making any money at all was because the PTA jumped it's shit because they didn't want kids exposed to a killer in a Santa Claus suit.  Not to mention, you know, gore and boobs.  Because kids that still believe in Santa are going to go rushing to the theaters to see this.  Because they're not watching cartoons or Sesame Street.  And they have a buttload of disposable income.  
 
Half in the bank.  Half up his nose.
 
 
So, yeah, the PTA believes in what they say because the PTA is, for all intents and purposes, a mob, and we all know that the intelligence of a mob is that of it's least smart member divided by the number of people in said mob.  So, KNOWING that we're dealing with a fraction of an IQ point, horror fans spoke louder than the PTA to the tune of 1.5 million dollars in 1984 money which is "probably some ungodly amount that I'm not going to do the math for" in today money.

Now, as to how I actually FEEL about it?  It's not bad.  It's not GREAT but it does have that vintage grindhouse feel to it, even though there's a LOT of time stretching going on which makes it feel longer than it should.
 
It's worth it to see Linnea Quigley get impaled on a mounted deer, though. Her big, ol' fakeys a-jigglin' away.  Well... as much as they can.  Silicone does not equal Jell-o.