My, What a Big Drill You Have...

Ah, 1982.  The golden age of the slasher film.  Following the success of such films as Halloween, Friday the 13th and Prom Night, Roger Corman, feminist writer Rita Mae Brown and director Amy Holden Jones decided, "Hey!  Let's screw with the men and make our OWN slasher flick!"  And, thus, The Slumber Party Massacre worked its way into our cult-movie-loving hearts.

Trish Devereaux (which sounds all decadent and shit) throws a slumber party while her parents are away because 18-year-olds still do that, apparently.  The neighbor is supposed to check in on her because her parents still don't trust her and, seriously, they shouldn't.  Because she's 18 and, as much as we would like to think that 18-year-olds are responsible, they really aren't.  Unless your 18-year-old owns their own home and has already set up a 401k, there's really no reason to ever completely trust your child with your home and belongings because 18-year-olds still have fond physical memories of floods of hormones and basic teenage craziness.  Hell, I'm 40 and I still occasionally have to ask my mom for help.

As it happens, because this is just another day in Horror Town, a serial killer with a fondness for power tools, Russ Thorn, has just escaped from prison.  It's a PARTY, now, bitches.  He introduces himself by killing a telephone repair-woman who apparently can't scream loud enough to be heard through the walls of a van.  I'd have had that checked out well before now. 

 

Project, woman!  Project!

So, yeah, Trish invites her friends Kim, Jackie and Diane to her party.  She also invites the new girl Valerie but Val refuses after she hears Diane talkin' smack.  That's probably a pretty smart move.  She has to babysit next door, anyway.  After school, we get to watch Brinke Stevens be drilled and not in a pervy, porny way.  Did you know that Brinke Stevens was a member of MENSA and has a Masters degree in Marine Biology?  Whodathunkit?  All that to be best known as a scream queen.  Follow your bliss, I guess.

 I am so smart.  S. M. R. T.

ANYway, during the pot smoking and girl-talk, the fun begins.  Diane's boyfriend and a buddy spy on the girls undressing.  The neighbor who's supposed to check in on them gets murdered, Diane and her boyfriend go off to make out and when Diane goes to see if it's OK to leave and get boinked, he's decapitated.  Then Diane finds him and gets a face full of power tool herself.  Then they discover that the pizza guy has had his eyes gouged out and the phone is cut off ("Oh, no!  The line is DEAD!").  Fortunately, the gym coach, whom the girls had been talking to on the phone, gets enough of the message and heads over.

The two remaining boys are gruesomely murdered on Val's lawn which doesn't cause any suspicion at ALL and then Thorn gains access to Trish's place and murders Jackie in the face.  Trish and Kim hide and mistake Val, who has decided to go all "Nancy Drew with a machete" and investigate, for a playmate of the killer.  Kim gets all drillered when Thorn enters the bedroom through an open window.  

Awwww... it's a penis extension.  How cute.

Coach Jana arrives and gets quickly dispatched then Val chases Thorn out with the machete, Thorn appears to get killed then jumps out of the pool and has to get stabbified again.  The girls cry.  The cops arrive.  Aaaaand scene.

SO... we have to remember about this movie is that it was MEANT to be a parody.  See, Rita Mae and her "unshorn sister of the apocalypse-hood" meant for the movie to lampoon the sexist nature of slasher films as they stand.  Corman and the other producers decided to film this as a straight slasher.  As a result, we get your standard sub-par acting and TnA but we also get a touch more humor than you would normally get in a slasher flick.

And that bugs me.  I'm kind of wondering how this would have turned out if it WAS filmed as the parody it was meant to be.  Personally, I would LOVE to get my hands on the original script and film it myself.  I have a camera.  I'd need to get lighting but your average handycam works just as well as a movie camera, I can do special effects for this myself since there's not a lot in the way of prosthetics, fake blood is cheap to make and I have friends that would LOVE to make a movie.

Seriously, though, I kind of like the IDEA of feminist slashers.  Frankly, I'd kind of like to flip it all the way around and have an all-male cast be hunted down by a female killer.  (Friday the 13th doesn't count.  We didn't KNOW Jason's mom was the killer until the end.)  The end where Val "castrates" the killer by cutting off the drill bit?  A little anvilicious but kind of genius.  It's great that the killer has a face in this one, too.  There's no mystery to it and I think that's cool, occasionally.  

All of that being said, this move sucks out loud but it's that brainless, drinking game kind of suck that makes it fun.  If you're bored, pop this one on and laugh at it.  If you're in the mood, tape all of the comments you make watching this barker and send it to me Riff-Trax style. 

'Cause that would be AWESOME!

GO TO BED, CAROL-ANNE!!

Poltergeist.

Mother-fucking Poltergeist.

TO THIS DAY, I cannot watch this movie all the way through.  Gonna warn you, now.  This movie is 31 years old.  If you bitch about spoilers, I will make it my mission to slap you.

So, yeah.  The Freeling family lives in Cuesta Verde, a quaint planned community in California.  Their children are perfect and the youngest, Carol Anne, is cute as a button.  Particularly when she holds conversations with the television.  A-fuckin'-dorable.

After this first bout of weirdness, more crazy shit starts happening in the house.  Furniture stacks itself, breaking glass, twisted silverware.  Things that, on the surface, make ya go "Hmm".  And then shit gets truly fucked up.

The tree in the backyard?  Tries to eat the son.  Dad and older sister manage to rescue him but Carol Anne is sucked through a portal in the closet.  She can still talk to them through the TV, though.

Fuck you, Treebeard!  I'll send you the therapist's bill.

And then the parapsychologists come in.  They inform us and the Freelings of the MULTIPLE hauntings they're experiencing and Dad's boss lets slip that the community is built on top of a cemetary.

Ass.

The two remaining kids are sent away for their safety and Tangina, the magic munchkin, is brought in to help them retrieve Carol Anne from not only the spirits who are attracted to her life force but a demon who's out to manipulate the other spirits by way of the little girl.  We never SEE any of this but it's all ominous and shit.

Gee, your hair smells terrific!

In the process of rescue, Mom and Carol Anne get to experience birth again and Tangina lies to their faces.  The Demon fucks with them again after the team leaves and they find out that they moved the HEADSTONES from the cemetery but not the BODIES.  On that note, they flee the premises (like any sane person would) and the house implodes into another dimension.  Then they decide that television is for losers and shun it.  SHUUUUUN!


Like I said before, this movie flips me right the fuck out.  The tree scene?  I have to leave the room.  That fuckin' creepy-ass clown doll?  Oh, FUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOUUU!  I'm not afraid of clowns OR dolls in particular but that sonofabitch can die in a goddamn fire.

Dickhole.

The other scene that really got to me?  The steak in the kitchen.  First off, maggots are fuckin' NASTY and then the skin-peeling that follows?  "Chunky" does not begin to describe it.

The fact that I am STILL legitimately disturbed by these images is a testimony to Spielberg's and Hooper's collective craft.  Keep in mind that Spielberg, contractually, could not work on any other project than E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial while that project was in production which is why Hooper was brought in.  The collaboration between the two of them brought us a truly iconic "haunting" film that has often been imitated but has NEVER been duplicated.

Its examination of 80s consumerism is highly underrated as well and Poltergeist is a lot less conspicuous about it than other films.  The "build it faster and cut corners to get the cash faster" mentality caused a lot of people to question planned communities and middle-class values.

Hello.  Have you accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior?

The air of mystery surrounding the entire series due to a so-called "curse" also adds a little edge to this movie.  I don't believe in curses but the odd coincidences are still something to talk about.

In any case, I have always recommended this movie and I always will.  This is even a great "family" horror film if you have older kids.  It's a bit intense for the younger ones but older kids will get a thrill.

I hear-tell that there's a remake in the works.  I'm not sure how that's gonna go over.

P.S.  Like the new site?  All of the artwork was done by my husband, Scott!  You can see more of his work at http://verdantartist.com

That Guy...

And TropeFest returns!  With education for your MIND so that you can analyze all of the tricks of the trade that script writers use to scare us out of our wits.  And make fun of them.

Today, we look at that guy.  The one guy in the movie that just can not handle his shit.  The one guy that WILL snap and, quite possibly, slaughter one or two party members with gleeful abandon.

That guy...

No, man!  This guy's totally cool!  You can trust him!

Now, obviously, we've got some tension that needs to be resolved but our characters aren't really in a place to get it done.  Whether they're being corralled by zombies, trapped in a futuristic prison-like testing facility, despairing over the cramped conditions in outer space or underwater, frayed nerves are an inevitability but there's always ONE character that will declare, through his actions, non compos mentis status.  Well, not ALWAYS but there's pretty good bettin' odds.

There a couple of different ways this character can be portrayed.  On the one hand, we've got the "normal" dude who, due to the circumstances, just takes a shortcut to Crazy-Town.  On the other hand, we've got the skeevy loose cannon that we know is gonna be a total douchebag and happily dance across the moral line, swinging a lead pipe.

He seemed so nice...

Now, this is a relatively new trope.  It really didn't even show up in literature until Joseph Heller's Catch-22 in 1961.  (Trivia note:  the number 22 in that phrase has no actual meaning.  The original title of the book was Catch-18.  18 didn't mean anything, either.  WHYYYYYYYYYOh, I don't care.)

ANYWAY!  Most times, this character is there to add fuel to the fire.  From Ash in Alien to Pinbacker in Sunshine, these characters give our heroes one more front to fight on.  Granted, this new front doesn't last very LONG, because once this characters actions are discovered, karmic retribution is usually swift and painful but that added touch of paranoia is delicious.

HA, HA!  Eat it, Ash.

Occasionally, this character is revealed to be the big bad.  Like William Weir from Event Horizon or Burke in Aliens, these characters could have ulterior motives that aren't fully revealed until the climax and are, often, the reason our heroes are in their situation to begin with.  That doesn't relieve these characters from their punishment but their role is significantly expanded in these cases.

 

One thing you DON'T want to confuse these characters with is the zombie/vampire/monster transformation.  The psycho-snappy-snap is entirely mental (or programming-related).  Any other type of change comes from outside and that is a separate trope entirely.

I'm not entirely convinced that these characters are at all necessary in any kind of media, myself.  The most paranoid television show, EVER, Lost, actively avoided this trope.  It came close but never quite nailed it.  The psycho teammate, though, IS fun and gives us something to talk about after the movie is over.  Words like "asshole", "dickbag" and "complete fucktard" are perfectly valid to use.

Watch your backs, kids.  And seriously, if your buddy starts getting twitchy, give him the double-tap.

You Know, SOME People Prefer a Rabbit's Foot

There are some folks who'll tell you that horror is only a half-step above porn in the ranking of genres.  The only difference between the two, really is which bodily fluid is splattered all over the screen (and, hopefully, not your keyboard because replacing them can be expensive).

That line, however, can very definitely be blurred and, in a few choice cases, crossed completely.  Why?  Perhaps it's the metaphysical dichotomy of sex and death?  Perhaps it's to try and encapsulate the fear of the problems that sex inevitably causes?  Perhaps it's because horror directors tend toward the emotionally stunted perv side of the scale?  A-One, A-Two, A-Three-hee?  The world may never know.

This brings us to Lucky Bastard.

Yes, kids, we now have found-footage, porn, house invasion horror.  The order of that is important.

The film starts out with a police video of "the crime scene", as these things often do.  It starts with a rape which our heroine foils and it all turns out to be a porn shoot.  The director convinced our heroine to take part in their "Lucky Bastard" site which rewards a fan with a boning. 

Yeah!  YEAH!  Take me you basement-dwelling stud, you!

Suffice it to say that she's not having a minute of it.  She plays along as much as she can but the dude they picked?  The one in a million stalker with a hair trigger.  No, I mean with an actual gun.  And a bat.  And any odd sex toys lying around.  Yeah, dude goes all Alex Forrest on his porn star crush.  There's no bunny to be boiled but ass-raping a porn director is close enough.

There's a tiny part of me that's screaming "HELP ME" right now.

This girl.  Tries to be useful.  Fails.

I kind of wish I could say that I hate this movie.  Rape is bad, dont'cha know?  Thing is I DON'T hate this movie.  I don't LIKE it because it really does send mixed messages about the porn industry (which, I believe, is not a bad thing as long as the people involved know what they're doing and they CHOOSE to be a part of it).  I don't LIKE it because the production quality is not great and I don't LIKE it because it's just not a good movie.

You would THINK that if they're making a horror movie about porn, they would make it exciting.  Nooooope.  The villain is a skinny, nerdy type that really couldn't me any more menacing than a Blue's Clues sippy-cup.  And the rest of them?  Assholes, the lot of them.  I seriously could NOT give two shits about them.  Any of them.  Including the heroine.

This is my angry face.  LOVE MEEEEE!

I'm not saying NOT to watch this movie but I'm not recommending it, either.  I'm fairly certain you'll feel as blasé about it as I do.  There's really not a lot to it and, frankly, you have better things to do with your eyes.  Appreciating a painting... as it dries.  Discovering if bears really DO shit in the woods.  Experiencing the power of pepper spray.  Stabbing them with blunt sticks.  You know.  Fun shit. 

I was gonna say "Deuces, I'm out" here, but then I remembered that the phrase "Deuces" probably came from some Jersey Shore meathead who mispronounced "Douches".

I'm out, though.

I'm BAAAAAAAACK!!

After a few days of COMPLETE mayhem, I have returned, triumphant and ready to snark your brain meats into submission!

Today's Choice?  Fresh Meat.

This New Zealand comedy/horror gem is AMAZEBALLS and it just proves to me that films from that region are just getting better and better. 

I mean, it's your standard "house invasion" movie only totally not.

See, it goes like this.  Rina Crane, college student of Maori descent and lesbian (it's relevant, trust me), goes home for a holiday and her parents, Hemi (Temuera Morrison from Star Wars and Spartacus: Gods of the Arena) and Margaret, an anthropologist and his celebrity chef wife, come out of the closet as cannibals.  It's a religious cult thing.  And then, a local gang bust one of their own out of a prison transport and choose the Crane house as their hideout.  Hilarity ensues. There's guns and chunks and people beating beaten with severed arms and crazy fathers and just... wow...

Ooooh... I'm all menacing in my pink hot pants...

Just in case you weren't aware, the Maori word for meat is "kiko".  And there's your education for the day.

The marinade is simply WONDERFUL!

It's really fucking simple but given the GLEEFUL amount of excess in this film, I'm fully prepared to accept simplicity.  There's so much raunch and humor and giddy scenery chewing that any kind of "eew" factor is thoroughly mitigated.  It's DELIRIOUSLY campy.  John Waters (Happy Birthday, by the way, Mr. Waters) would be proud.

I know this is a short review but the movie just speaks for itself.  I thoroughly enjoyed it.