Mumblecore Horror - A Horrible Way to Die

If there's one thing I'm a sucker for (aside from a good horror movie), it's a superdepressing indie drama about addiction and damaged lives. At long last, there's a film that gives me the best of both worlds. Adam Wingard's A Horrible Way to Die combines the no-budget shaky-camera aesthetic and character-driven, emotional focus of an arthouse (mumblecore, if you want to get derogatory) flick with the grimness and brutality of horror. Yeah, nothing makes me grin like a film devoid of humor or hope.

I should note that this isn't a movie for everyone. If your horror leanings are more Return of the Living Dead than Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, you may not find much to enjoy. Likewise, if shaky camera gives you a headache or otherwise peeves you, you're gonna want to turn this off 10 minutes in. Personally, I'm rather fond of the handheld aesthetic, which may explain my superhuman tolerance for found footage horror. Bottom line, if you can tolerate (or heck, even enjoy) the cinematography, A Horrible Way to Die holds many rewards.

At its heart, A Horrible Way to Die is a tragic love story involving Sarah, a recovering alcoholic who was so drunk for so long that she never picked up on the clues that her live-in boyfriend Garrick was a serial killer. When the film opens, Garrick has escaped from prison and is heading back to Sarah's town. Meanwhile, Sarah is doing her best to heal, attending AA meetings and starting to date Kevin, who she met there.

Amy Seimitz gives a flawless (IMHO) performance as Sarah, and I can't wait to see more of this actress. She comes off as mousy and withdrawn, but she's been through too much to take shit from anyone. Her wounds are raw, but just beginning to heal. When she decides to take a chance and trust Kevin enough to meet him for a dinner date, it's an act of incredible bravery.

The first time you see Kevin looking at Sarah in AA, he comes off as incredibly creepy, but when he eventually asks her out, he's so awkwardly charming and sincere that he wins you (and Sarah) over. I'm going to make myself vulnerable for a minute and admit I'm a huge sap. If my wife was one to go for chick flicks, you'd hear no complaints from me, as I'd secretly enjoy them while pretending not to. And I'll readily admit that for me, half the pleasure of watching A Horrible Way to Die was watching this damaged girl learn to trust again and form a relationship with this awkward-but-nice guy.

Speaking of nice guys, as far as serial killers go, Garrick has to be one of the nicest out there. In his first scene, Garrick helpfully tells the girl he's got tied up to watch her head as he lifts her out of the trunk. Then he repeatedly assures her that everything is going to be okay shortly before strangling her. It's as if he never quite believes he's going to kill anyone until his compulsion gets the better of him, and afterwards, he's always remorseful. The film draws a nice parallel between Garrick and Sarah, because they are both ruled by these compulsions that make them despise themselves. Killing is Garrick's addiction, and you get the sense that the nice-guy side of him isn't a false front, but a genuine side of his personality, and the one he wishes was in control of his actions. Now, I can't say how psychologically realistic this is, but it made for an interesting character.

If you haven't seen the film and it sounds like something you might like, now's the time to stop reading, because I can't take this discussion any farther without giving away some MAJOR SPOILERS.

I don't know about you, but I didn't see the ending coming at all. And the first time around, I wasn't too happy with it. It seemed like a cheap twist for the sake of having a twist ending. On top of that, I really liked Kevin, and I wanted his feelings toward Sarah to be real so that when one or both of them wound up tortured to death, the horror would cut deep. That's what I've been waiting for: a horror film where you care so deeply about the characters that when they're murdered, you're left devastated. Instead, Kevin turns out to be a serial killer groupie who, along with his 2 friends, have captured Sarah and arranged for Garrick to meet them in a secluded cabin to get his revenge for her turning him in to the cops. It seemed far-fetched, and worse yet, totally out of character for Kevin.

Here's the thing though, watch it again and you can see there was no cheating. There were subtle, damned-nigh imperceptible clues to what was coming. At their first date, Kevin, a supposed recovering alcoholic, chooses a restaurant with booze covering every wall. He claims he didn't realize it until he walked in the restaurant, yet when Sarah says she has no idea what she wants, he says, “It’s all pretty good." If he knows the menu so well, he obviously frequents the restaurant, but if he was really an alcoholic, he would definitely have noticed the wine bottles everywhere.

On the second viewing, I found Kevin so creepy that I could hardly believe it hadn't been obvious all along that he was a predator. Mostly it's just the way he looks at Sarah when she's hinting at secrets he already knows. What I had chalked up to his being awkward (or even being a less than convincing actor) I now interpret as dead-on acting choices. He's awkward because he's a psycho trying to appear to be a nice guy.

Once I got over not getting the ending I was expecting and hoping for, I realized that the actual ending was better, because it contains the whole point of the film. Through the whole movie, you just sort of assume Garrick is heading home to get revenge. Instead, he ends up rescuing Sarah from her captors and letting her go. He still loves her deeply and feels guilty about failing to be the man he should have been for her. As he's cutting her down from the ceiling, Sarah tells him she missed him, and means it. Once she's been freed, they exchange a loaded glance, we get a quick flash of a love scene from earlier in their lives, and she leaves while he collapses from the stab wound he's sustained.

Earlier I pointed out the parallel between their addictions, which is why, on some level, Sarah understands Garrick. Maybe she doesn't understand the compulsion to kill, but she understands uncontrollable compulsions to do self-destructive things and to hate yourself for it. She also never personally saw his brutal side. He was always gentle and loving with her, which is why she can't hate him despite all he's done. In their shared glance at the end you can see that they still love each other despite everything, and that they both know they have to let each other go. Classic star-crossed lovers with a deep, black twist.

The one thing missing from A Horrible Way to Die was any sort of scare factor. There was some decent tension in parts, but it was way less of a scary movie than a dark, bleak drama. But the good news is that Adam Wingard's next film, "You're Next," looks to be a balls-out home invasion type horror movie with the 3 principle cast members from AHWTD appearing. Plus, Ti West is playing a character named Tariq, so I'm obviously there.

For a dissenting opinion on A Horrible Way to Die, check out the If We Made It Podcast with my friends Jeff and Tucker, in which they also give an insightful review of Lucky McKee's The Woman before ranking A Horrible Way to Die lower than Santa Claus: The Movie in their Flickchart.

I'm fishing for comments with this one, so please let me know what you thought of A Horrible Way to Die. Was it as good as I made it out to be? Worse than Santa Claus? Somewhere in between? Let me know. And when you're done commenting, head on over to the MMM Facebook page to see what I thought of Dolan's Cadillac. Then call your mother. She has heard from you in so long. Also, you might think about a haircut.

Final Girl Film Club: Hell Night

Before I get to the glory that is Hell Night, I'd like to take a moment to thank our hostess, the talented Ms. Stacie Ponder, not only for giving us lesser bloggers a bit of free publicity, but also for this kick-ass stick figure rendering of Chromeskull stabbing Lena Headey in the head:

I see you are jealous, as well you should be. This is the custom artwork drawn directly on the back cover of my deluxe edition of Stacie's Slashers 101 mini-comic. The good news is, you don't have to spend the remainder of your days wallowing in envy--you can totally order your own over at Final Girl. I suggest you take a moment and do that right now. I can wait...

Done? Which slasher did you order? Dr. Decker from Nightbreed? Gahh! Why didn't I think of that? Now I'm freakin' jealous.

Anyhow, on with the review!

 Hell Night (1981, dir. Tom DiSimone)

The Verdict: Hell Night is a fun, but uneven, foray into cheesy 80s horror that works best when it (however lamely) attempts humor rather than horror.

Hell Night pours on the awesome so thick that within the first five minutes you will be convinced that it is the end-all be-all of 80s horror. Unfortunately, the film cannot keep this pace up for long. In fact, the film is at its best before any of the horror elements come into play. The movie begins with one of those mythical, end-of-the-world-blowout, 20-keg frat parties that you could only believe were real back in the 80s. Girls flash their cleavage while bringing drinks and smokes to drunken jocks who puke on trophy cases and throw kegs through the picture windows. Motion pictures exist precisely because parties like this do not.

Awesomely overblown period setting, check. But what about the characters? We've got Surfer Dude who comes dressed as Robin Hood and wise-cracks his way through the party while ogling Party Girl, who is dressed as a flapper and dancing provocatively, and who is perpetually carrying a small pharmacy somewhere on her person, despite the smallness of her outfit. There's also Frat President, who is a pig, but a charming, affable pig who gets points simply for the time, effort, and obvious passion he puts into scaring pledges shitless on the big night. Next there's Sensitive Guy, who is the more serious-minded type. You know, the guy who is in a frat but isn't really a "frat guy." Sensitive Guy is clearly set up to be the love interest for our Final Girl, Linda Blair.

Ah Linda Blair, I finally understand my friend Shannon's obsession with you. When we meet Linda's character, she is observing the party in a knowing, above-it-all manner that shows she's the smartest, most confident, flat-out coolest girl in the room. Her baby-fat cherubic face is the perfect counterpoint to her sultry baritone voice and wise-beyond-her-years demeanor... can you tell I was crushing on her something fierce?  The funny thing about Linda Blair is this movie is that in the beginning, she doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the cast. She's just a little bit too good as an actress, and she's clearly slumming. In the early scenes, Hell Night shows you tantalizing glimpses of the actress Linda Blair might have become had her career not been derailed by drug convictions (how quaint it seems that in the 80s a drug problem could turn public sentiment against an actor). Alas, as the film goes on, her performance deteriorates, mostly because the filmmakers don't give her anything compelling to do or even remain true to the character they've set up, More on that later.

Hell Night's greatest strength is its humor, although I was never quite sure if it was legitimitely funny, or so bad that it was funny. If you're being generous, you might consider the script a clever send-up of the frat-boy mentality. Or you could argue that the filmmakers possess a frat-boy mentality and any laughter is at their expense. Ultimately though, it doesn't matter. With it or at it, I laughed a lot.

Take for example, this bit of dialogue:

Lackey Nerd: "What a twat. We should have left her behind."

Frat Prez: "What for? Her behind's her best part. We should have keep her behind and left the rest of her."

Tell me, if you can, whether or not this is genuinely funny, or so lame it's hilarious? I'd say it's a bit of both. Imagine this joke as delivered by me and Jack Nicholson:

It could totally work, but the ham-fisted set-up and delivery take it over the edge into lamedom. The cumulative effect, however, is a joke that works on multiple levels, and is perfctly suited to the aesthetic of Hell Night.

Where Hell Night falters is whenever it attempts to build tension. When the pledges finally get locked in the murder/suicide house, the audience gets all these agonizingly slow scenes where people are creeping carefully along corridors, and you can tell by the way the shots are framed that nothing is going to happen. Rather than perched on the edge of your seat, you're sitting back waiting for the scene to end so you can get to the kills.

Speaking of which, the kills are pretty damned cool in that low-budget, infinitely inventive kind of way. At one point, a mongoloid twists Lackey Nerd's head around backwards. Within seconds, you realize the inherent cheapnesss of the effect. All they did was begin the head twist, cut, put the Lackey Nerd's jacket on backwards, then continue the twist. Such a simple effect, but in the seconds it takes to realize how it was done, you've already gasped and cringed at the brutality you thought you saw.

Alright, here's my biggest gripe of the movie. When we're introduced to Linda Blair's character, she comes off as this super-cool above-it-all outsider girl who isn't quite sold on the sorority life, yet is gaming the system for its potential benefits. During her conversation with Sensitive Guy, she shows herself to be highly intelligent, independent, and possessed of those masculine traits (being an auto-mechanic) that make her every guy's dream girl. I was sold. My firm expectation was that she would be one of the most kick-ass final girls of all time.

And then...

She spends the rest of the goddamned movie being a goddamned damsel in goddamn distress. I mean, goddamn! Okay, perhaps that's an exaggeration. She has her moments, particularly near the end of the film, but for the most part she gets frightened, yells for help, seeks comfort from Sensitive Guy, rinse, repeat. The only time she shows a spark of her potential inner bad-ass is when Surfer Dude's shotgun clatters to the floor with the Dude himself nowhere in sight. Sensitive Guy cowers near the staircase while Linda insists she's going to get that gun. Coincidentally, this is the only scene in the film that even hints at tension, and gave me a pretty good jump scare (belated spolier alert).

I can't end this review without a huge shout-out to the best thing about Hell Night, Linda Blair included: Surfer Dude. This man deserves a standing ovation for perfectly capturing the gleeful cheese that Hell Night represents (go ahead, stand up and applaud, I'll wait). Every moment you watch him on the screen is a moment that God subtracts from the span of your days. Every lame joke that spews forth from his pseudo-mustachioed lips utterly kills. And it's not that he's partiularly good, it's just that his enthusiasm is infectious. When he excitedly describes what it's like to surf to Meg, well, a less-luminous being would have ground the movie to a halt, but between he and Meg (her naughty interludes are half the fun), the screen lights up. Am I over-selling this? Anyway, he's really fun to watch, especially when they give him lines like, "The world's gone crazy!" in earnest.

So, for all it's faults, I've got to give Hell Night 2 enthusiastic thumbs up, with one caveat: This is a film best enjoyed with a roomful of rowdy, drunken friends to carry you through the slow parts.

Anniversary Post - One Year of Mancave Madnesss (That's Right, 3 S's y'all)

In 5 short hours, The Montana Mancave Massacre will have officially been the reason for going online for a full year. Looking over my posts from the past year, I'm disappointed that I haven't been able to blog nearly as much as I'd like to, but I'm also proud at what I've done and extremely grateful for the friends I've made in the horror blogging community. You're the reason I do this, and for the past year, you've been my main source of inspiration not to toss myself off a bridge. So thanks for that...

This past week I've been in a rut and in no mood to celebrate my 1-year anniversary with an epic film-fest followed by a self-congratulatory write-up. Instead, I was more in the mood to have my ego (feverishly) stroked by someone else. So, as a Blogday gift to myself, I've asked my good friend Tucker from the always hilarious If We Made It podcast to write a gushing essay about how awesome I am (seriously, that was the assignment). Not only did Tucker make me feel a little better about myself, he also reminded me of how I totally owned that posse of little ten-year-old shits with dart guns in Boise. So I proudly present to you the offical Montana Mancave Massacre First Blogday Asskiss starring Tucker Battrell:

This Sunday marks the one year anniversary of the Montana Mancave Massacre blog, which is brought to us by one Marvin the Macabre. Marvin and I go way back. Aside from being a connoisseur of the horrific, he is also an excellent writer and a great human being. Sure, he may make light of even the most obscene acts of depravity, but that's what makes him macabre. This is a man of action and principle. For example, he was one of the main players in an impromptu toy gun battle with several neighborhood children. I believe he came away from that with several kills. Five little ears strung on a piece of twine around Marvin's neck serve as a reminder of his heroism and cruelty. On principle he once took a several miles long walk to avoid sitting through even one lousy Chuck Norris film. But beyond being a man of taste in cinema and distinction in battle, Marvin is a dear friend, even if he did defend Gladiator.

I, along with our mutual friend Jeff, have a podcast called If We Made It, which Marvin has been a loyal listener and frequent contributor. Marvin's blog has been a continuing source of inspiration in the past year. His witty insights into the horror genre and his obscure recommendations have given us much to ponder when approaching certain films on our podcast. While we don't exclusively deal in horror, it is one of our passions and The Montana Mancave Massacre is a go-to spot for funny and interesting insight into classics we adore (The Lost Boys), lesser known fare one would be better off avoiding (Live Feed), and provides the kick in the ass I need to check out new classics (Martyrs). I value Marvin's blog and hope for many more successful years of his signature stellar content, but more than that I value Marvin as a friend. Happy anniversary to the man and the Mancave.

Tucker Battrell

Okay, for the record, I thought I walked out on the Charles Bronson movie, but then again I'm getting old and can't remember shit. Thanks Tucker for the slobber and please everyone, go check out Tucker and Jeff at http://ifwemadeit.blogspot.com. And pretty please, add to the asskissathon by commenting on this post and telling me how awesome I am. Believe me, I need the boost. And as always, a thousand thanks for reading.

WTF Blogosphere? A Dissenting Opinion on The Devil Inside

When there's a movie I really want to see, I avoid reading reviews like the Bubonic. I refuse to taint my experience with any expectations other than the ones I've formed myself based on the trailer, the cast, and the filmmakers. On Saturday night, I shelled out my $8.50 to see The Devil Inside not expecting much. When I walked out of the theatre a few hours later, my stomach was in knots, I felt the beginnings of a panic attack, and a maniacal grin was splitting my head practically in two. In other words, I was peaking on a good horror movie buzz.

Imagine my surprise, shortly after composing my gushing love letter of a review for The Devil Inside, to discover that pretty much every other human being was matched in a lockstep of hatred and disdain for the film. And it wasn't just the uppity, holier-than-thou film critics. It was damn near every other horror blogger I read. WTF blogosphere?

Thing is, reading through a stack of bile-spewing reviews, I found myself agreeing with much of what they said was wrong with the movie. The difference was, I figured "well, this and this could have been better, but the good parts more than made up for it" while everyone else was like "this and this totally ruined the movie." So, for the record, yes, the ending was extremely abrupt, anticlimactic, and disappointing. But it wasn't at all out of line in terms of the story. And okay, ending with a URL was tasteless and gimmicky. I can't argue with that. But after my initial disappointment faded and I rewound the film in my head, I was really kind of blown away.
Here's what I liked about The Devil Inside:

The Possessed - The actresses who played Maria Rossi and Rosa, the two main possessed women in the film, were incredible. The erattic sedated-to-manic behavior of Maria is unnerving, and when her daughter enters the room with her, it creates this trip-wire tension and a real sense of danger. I was watching with clenched fists, just waiting to see what kind of violently crazy shit she'd pull.

The Exorcism Scenes - People complained that everything in the exorcism scenes was stolen from other movies, The Exorcist in particular. But couldn't you say the same about every other exorcism movie ever made? That's the problem with film genres that were spawned by a single movie. You can't watch a zombie film without defining it in terms of Night of the Living Dead. The Exorcist created the conventions for the exorcism film, and every film within the genre will be measured by how it conforms to or departs from those conventions. That said, The Devil Inside is a very conventional exorcism film, using the well-established elements of bodily contortions, levitation, distorted voices, and obscenity-packed blaspheming. So yeah, you're not seeing anything new, but you're seeing it in a new way, and for the most part, better than it's been done before.

The Effects - Let's be honest, as much as Linda Blair's 180 degree head-rotation scared us all pissless back in the day, it looks pretty hokey in 2012. But the effects in The Devil Inside are seamless and utterly convincing. While some had to be computer enhanced (though damned if I could tell which ones they were), one of the film's main assets was human-special effect Bonnie Morgan. And sure, she got hired because she can twist her body into unbelievable knots, but the girl can really act too. While critics dog-piled on the film's faux-documentary style as what was wrong with the movie, I thought it was essential to its success. There's something incredibly scary about putting convincing special effects into a lo-fi digital video.

I think the main problem is that people are just burned out on found footage, shaky camera fare. I'm convinced that if this movie had come out 5 years ago, it would have been hailed as a genre classic. As it is, a lot of people reported the movie wasn't the least bit scary. And if you go into a movie with an attitude like, "Okay motherfucker, scare me. I dare you," almost nothing will. You see, there's a correct way to watch a horror film, and it involves meeting the movie halfway. For me, I do my damnedest to place myself in the vulnerable position of the protagonists, leaving myself open to being scared. I crave the fear, the tension. And I want to like every movie I watch, and when I don't, it's not for lack of trying on my part.

In this respect, The Devil Inside had me at Hello. When I was a kid, The Exorcist really did a number on me, and movies about demonic possession have a pre-burrowed route to getting under my skin. But that's the point - no matter how much critics pretend that movies can be evaluated objectively, each individual's movie experience is deeply personal and depends on all kinds of factors from your personal history to who you saw it with to what your mood was like the day you saw it. So, maybe The Devil Inside wasn't as great as I thought. Maybe I was simply excited to have two child-free hours to engage in my favorite pasttime. Who knows? But I had a great time with it. Likewise, maybe it wasn't as bad as the critics and bloggers would have you believe. Don't trust them. Don't trust me. Just try to watch the movie without expectations.

The Five Best Clive Barker Adaptations

For a best-selling author, Clive Barker doesn’t get nearly the attention he deserves. Back when Hellraiser came out and Stephen King was calling him the future of horror, he seemed poised to dethrone even King. But that was back when he was the hot new author on the block, and while his writing retains the same gorgeous prose style and philosophical bent that made him a standout among horror writers, his star has diminished in the intervening years. Hell, I even stopped reading him for the better part of the last decade.

Not long ago, however, I dug up my old copies of the Books of Blood and was blown away anew. Say what you will about some of his more epic volumes, but Barker is the master of the short horror story. His tales craft grotesquely beautiful worlds populated with creatures so bizarre your mind struggles just to visualize them. But then he’ll veer into pure, visceral horror, dropping descriptions of violence graphic enough to make you throw up in your mouth a little.

While his books are nothing short of amazing, the film adaptations can be somewhat less so. For that reason, I’ve created this handy little list of the 5 must-see Barker adaptations:

#5 – Hellraiser

(1987 – dir. Clive Barker)

Barker’s most famous creation in last place? How can this be? While there’s no denying that Pinhead and his aberrant band of cenobytes have captured the imagination of horror fans around the world and become icons in their own right, have you rewatched the film lately? There are enough terrible performances and laugh-out-loud crappy special effects to make you reconsider your objection to horror remakes. However, Hellraiser also has some genuinely good performances and make-up effects (particularly the skinless, regenerating body of Frank), and the violence is fairly gruesome, even in the age of Hostel. The thing that justifies Hellraiser’s place on this list, however, is the strength of the story, and the vision displayed by Barker, who is as gifted a visual artist as he is a writer. If only we could see the film as it looked inside his mind.

#4 – The Midnight Meat Train

(2008 – dir. Ryuhei Kitamura)

Starring a pre-Hangover Bradley Cooper, Brit bad-ass Vinnie Jones, and the always stunning Leslie Bibb, and featuring a pitch-perfect bit-part by Brooke Shields, The Midnight Meat Train’s main strength is in its performances. The film expands, but stays true to Barker’s original story about the mysterious serial-killer Mahogany, whose meticulous preparation of victims suggests a greater purpose behind his subterranean slayings. The biggest difference between the story and the film is that the story features some of the most stomach-turning gore I’ve ever read, while the violence as depicted in the film verges on cartoonish, particularly during Ted Raimi’s death scene in which Jones hits him so hard that fakey-looking digital eyeballs pop out of his head. Blame CGI for marring an otherwise very satisfying horror film.

#3 – Dread

(2009, dir. Anthony DiBlasi)

I’ll say upfront that this film has a major flaw that may be a deal-breaker for some. Namely, the film makes the human mind out to be much more fragile than it really is. Characters seem to be driven mad far too easily in the film, but if you can get past that, Dread has much to offer. The plot involves film school students doing a documentary study on people’s deepest fears. Of course, one of them has a hidden agenda and uses the volunteers’ filmed confessions to exploit these fears. The stark, oppressive atmosphere is unrelenting, the performances are solid, and the story is captivating. The movie expands on Barker’s original story, and departs from it for the finale, which was a wise choice. The most insanely horrible act of cruelty is not shown in the film, but merely suggested in a gut-punch of a final line.

#2 – Nightbreed

(1990 – dir. Clive Barker)

I may get some shit for this pick, especially for putting it ahead of Hellraiser. And yes, I’ll admit it is pretty damned campy at times, but there’s something I’ve always loved about Barker’s unapologetic monsterfest. It’s a veritable Mos Eisley Cantina, nay, Jabba’s Palace of strange creatures both beautiful and menacing. Being a fan of bizarre beasts, I find it irresistible that the monsters are the heroes of the story, battling a sheriff’s posse of rednecks for the right to exist.  Plus, David Cronenberg’s portrayal of the serial-killing psychiatrist Dr. Decker is a definite highlight in his inarguably distinguished career. Does anyone know if they've found the lost footage yet? Rumor has it there was a musical number that was cut. Now that I'd pay to see. 

#1 Candyman

(1992 – dir. Bernard Rose)

If you haven’t watched Candyman in the last decade or so, you’ve probably forgotten how smart, scary, and downright disturbing it is. Candyman is the smartest slasher since Psycho, and arguably one of the best horror films of the 1990s (not the greatest decade for horror, but still…) The character of Candyman has entered the pantheon of horror heroes, but his reputation may be tarnished by the company. After all, how many dreadful sequels did Jason, Freddy, and Michael slog through during the decade?  With a classic score by Phillip Glass and a top-notch cast, Candyman transcends the slasher sub-genre and touches on the big, philosophical themes that Barker so deftly weaves into his prose.

#0 Abarat

(2015 – dir. Henry Selick)

That’s right, topping my list at numero zero is a Clive Barker adaptation that doesn’t actually exist, but should. There were rumors of an animated version going around, but I don’t think anything ever came of it, and Henry Selick was certainly not attached. I’m just throwing this out there as wishful thinking. Abarat given the stop-motion treatment by the director  of The Nightmare Before Christmas and Coraline? If you could, how many of you would pre-order their opening night tickets right now? Are you listening,  Hollywood? Make this shit happen.

A Christmas GIF(t) for You

Dear Readers,

I know you haven't been feeling the warm glow of my affection for most of the month. Forgive me. I've been busy spreading the spirit of the season in person, and figured my boob post would tide you over. As a token of my love, I'm bestowing upon you this Christmas GIF as a reminder that you're always in my heart at this most joyeaux time of year.

Two Turtledoves if you can identify this movie...

P2 - How Rachel Nichols's Boobs Almost Ruined a Feature Film

I said "almost," okay?

But before I reveal myself as a complete sexist pig, let's discuss the non-Rachel-Nichols's-Boobs aspects of the film.

P2 is a 2008 horror film written and produced by one of my favorite new(ish) filmmakers, Alexandre Aja and his partner in crime, Gregory Levassuer. Aja handed over directing duties to Franck Khalfoun on this one, but it still bears Aja's trademark suspense (or should I say haute tension?). The film takes place after hours on Christmas Eve in an all-but-abandoned parking garage. Angela (Nichols) has been working long hours and is already way late for a Christmas get-together at her sister's house when her car (surprise) won't start. The friendly and helpful security guard, Thomas (Wes Bentley), comes to her aid shortly before drugging her and chaining her to a table for a nice Christmas Eve dinner.

With a set-up like this, you can expect a relatively low body count, a lot of psychological tension, and a heaping helping of Wes Bentley-brand Crazy Eyes!

Wes Bentley's Crazy EyesTM

"Thanks for ruining Christmas, ASSHOLE!"

I don't know what it is about Wes Bentley, but I get really excited whenever he shows up in a movie.  I've liked him ever since I first saw him in American Beauty, but if I'm being honest, he hasn't shown me much else to recommend him. In fact, in Ghost Rider he was spectacularly awful. In P2, he swings wildly back and forth from a charming, personable guy to a complete raving nutbag, but he does it well. When he's putting on the charm, he's genuinely likable, and when he loses it, he comes completely unhinged.

Rooooaar!!!

Like him or hate him as an actor, in P2 he's never boring, and he owns the screen every second he's on it. Except, of course, when he has to share it with Rachel Nichols's boobs.

I came here to SPOIL THIS MOVIE for you, and to chew bubble gum. And I'm all out of bubble gum.

Alright, here's why I lay the blame for nearly ruining this movie on Ms. Nichols's otherwise perfect breasts: Early on in the film, Thomas drugs Angela and puts her in a lovely white dress for Christmas dinner. Here's what she looks like in the dress:

Spectacular, yes? Just about makes your eyes pop out of your head, right? Exactly. That's the problem. All the effort Khalfoun puts into building tension is undercut by the cut of her dress. Oh, there's a big freakin' Rottweiler she's got to sneak past? Terrifyi... huh, huh, boobies.

Damn! She's trapped in the trunk of a car! She's going to miss her only chance to alert the cops who are just about to leave unless she can... My God would you look at those things!

Oh Hell, she's trapped in an elevator that is rapidly filling with water! Do I even care? All I can think about is that she's wearing a white dress that is about to get very, very wet.

I don't mean to sound so fixated, but Ms. Nichols, your breasts are downright distracting. A neckline a mere 3 inches higher would have heightened the tension of the movie by a power of ten. There are, however, some effective scenes in which her chest is not in frame. For instance, there's the incredibly gory, incredibly disturbing vehicular homicide scene.

The intestines aren't actually the worst part of this scene. The way the body slides down the wall just kills me.

Then there's Rachel Nichols stabbing a dog in the neck with a tire iron. Hey, you know, when you're actually looking at her face, she's a pretty good actress.

And of course, there's Wes Bentley getting his Elvis-karaoke on to Blue Christmas, giving Rachel ample time to locate an axe.

...but I'll have a bloo, bloo, bloo, bloo Christmas...

I suppose that leaves the question of whether the movie was any good. Some good performances and a stunning kill sequence aside, P2 is nothing special. I enjoyed it, and I'll probably watch it again, but I can't heartily recommend it to anyone but fans of Wes Bentley... or boobs.

Wes Bentley, or Boobs?

Black Friday: The Movie

I just saw that a woman in LA pepper sprayed 20 people at a Walmart to keep them away from the electronics deals she was after. As sinister as "Black Friday" sounds, and as it is becoming, I believe it's high time someone wrote a horror film capitalizing on the "holiday."

So why not us?

I hereby propose that Marvin the Macabre and the readers of The Montana Mancave Massacre collaborate on a crowd-sourced film script for "Black Friday." Here's how it will work (assuming anyone is interested):

Let's start with a simple concept, say, there's a must-have toy for the 2012 Christmas season that creates such intense desire that it turns consumers into blood-thirsty, primal berzerkers who are willing to maim and kill for the opportunity to possess it. Now, everyone who wants to participate can send me ideas for plot points, scenes, characters, locations, situations, basically whatever ideas you want to contribute. Probably the easiest way to do this would be to submit ideas via the Montana Mancave Massacre Facebook page, but for those who avoid Facebooking at all costs, you can contribute via the comments section, or by emailing me at marvinthemacabre@gmail.com.

We'll all get an opportunity to comment on and discuss the submitted ideas, then I'll act as editor, making the final decision on what goes into the script. Once we've got a viable concept, we'll figure out how to divide up writing duties.

Sound interesting to anyone?

Mad Black People Bout to Cut Someone

I believe I mentioned previously the awesome person who found my site using the search term "bat junk." Well this week, someone got to the Mancave using the term "mad black people bout to cut someone." While "Bat Junk!" was the actual title of my post, I have no idea why this other person got directed to me.

However, I think "Mad black people bout to cut someone" would be a kick-ass theme for a post. Trouble is, I'm having trouble coming up with horror-related scenes that fit this theme. Okay, Candyman, obviously, but what else?

Thus I task you, my faithful readers with helping me compile a list of "Mad Black People 'Bout to Cut Someone" in horror. Lay it on me.

Fear of a Red State

Kevin Smith announced his retirement from directing right around the same time that Red State premiered. Which is to say, just when he was starting to look promising again. It’s been a rough several years for Kevin Smith fans, watching him rehash old characters, direct other people’s scripts, and generally failing to deliver anything fresh. Then, just as the world had written him off as a one-trick pony, he goes and makes a film that is such a departure from his oeuvre, that doesn’t center entirely around witty banter, that feels genuinely cinematic, and that is such a departure from the rest of his oeuvre that you’d think he’d experienced a personal career renaissance. It feels like the work of a man with a renewed passion for his craft, not someone so fed up with filmmaking that he’s talking retirement in his thirties.

From the get-go, Red State does not feel like a Kevin Smith film. The grainy, grimy, low-budget feel of the film seems like an artistic choice rather than a byproduct of its admittedly low budget. Okay, that’s faint praise, I know, but Smith himself has said in interviews that he doesn’t much care what his films look like.

The dialogue, for the most part, doesn’t sound like your typical Kevin Smith rapid-fire back and forth between a couple of wittier-than-thou fanboys. The teenagers who are lured to the Five Point Church may shoot off a couple of good one-liners now and again, but it doesn’t sound blatantly scripted. A lot of their dialogue suggests lame attempts to sound cool to each other rather than Smith’s attempt to sound cool to his audience. Tucker, of the If We Made It Podcast, points out that this is the first time Smith has actually written characters rather than mouthpieces for himself. That about sums it up perfectly. Once the government siege starts, there’s a bit of conspicuous, too-clever-for-its-own-good Kevin Smith dialogue, but by that point you’ve already been treated to Michael Parks’s riveting 15 minute sermon, and if you’re not won over by that, just turn the movie off.

SPOILER ALERT

Michael Parks has never been better than he is here, with a menacingly understated performance full of creepy charm. You watch him preach and can instantly understand why followers would flock to him, hanging on his every repulsive, honey-coated word. As long as the sermon scene went on, I didn’t want it to end. But it ends with a blast, literally. The murder at the end of the sermon was truly an original one, and a brilliant little piece of indie-ingenuity. The church has got a homosexual wrapped from neck to toe in plastic wrap, before the murder, they wrap up the rest of his head, then shoot straight down into the top of his skull. The plastic wrap fills with blood, but it is contained for easy clean-up. Given the budget he was working with, I’m sure the plastic wrap bit was something of a necessity. Not having to show his face meant not needing an expensive prosthetic or digital effects. But the end result is an truly original death scene that turns your stomach without being overly gory.

Another aspect of the film that impressed me was the direction of the action sequences. Action is hard to shoot effectively, and for someone not too experienced with this type of film, Smith pulls it off admirably. My favorite sequence (aside from Parks’s monologue) is the scene where one of the teenagers has freed himself, found an assault rifle, and needs to find a way out. He runs through these tight hallways that amplify his footfalls and really give you a sense of the physical space. It feels chaotic and claustrophobic even before they zealots spot him and give chase. Once the chase is on, this same feeling is ratcheted up about ten notches until the teenager finally gets out into the open and is suddenly shot by the government agents that the audience didn’t even know was there. Smith works in several jaw-dropping shocks like this, leaving me to wonder why he’s been so focused on comedy all these years.

It’s also worth mentioning that the sound design is pretty much perfect in this film. Those booming footfalls in the corridors are really what drive that scene, and during the firefight between the church members and the feds, the gunshots are so powerful and feel so close that it really puts you on edge. It feels incredibly dangerous, more so than in your typical action movie. At the end of the film, these incredibly powerful horn blasts come out of nowhere, signaling to the church members that the rapture is at hand. Ever through my crappy speakers, the sound of those blasts rattled the floor and added a truly jarring element at just the right time in the film. I was very much in awe at this point.

…Which brings me to the film’s basic structural flaw that robs the audience of its climax and pretty much neuters the film. After the trumpet blasts ring out, the true believers put down their weapons and emerge from the compound in triumph, not to surrender, but to declare victory. They confront the feds, and John Goodman’s character, who is leading the raid, believes on some level that the trumpets are a sign not to slaughter the church membership as per his orders. The film goes right to the tipping point, and you’re not sure if the feds are going to open fire, or if brimstone will shower down from the sky, and then…

…then you’re in a government conference room during John Goodman’s debriefing. He explains what exactly happened (the trumpet sounds were a conveniently-timed practical joke by some hippy neighbors). Then he relays a not entirely applicable anecdote about dogs fighting over a turkey leg, makes a ham-fisted point about the dangerous of dogmatic beliefs, and leaves.

Sigghhhh…

This isn’t the first time that Kevin Smith has given me false hope that the end of the world is nigh. One of his first shots at writing comics was a Daredevil story where all kinds of weird happenings were pointing to the endtimes. Of course, in the end it was all just a hoax perpetrated an obscure villain orchestrated solely to show off Smith’s knowledge of obscure comic book villains. I wanted Red State to end with the MUTHERFUCKING WRATH OF GOD!  I wanted the sky to open up and give the mass murderers on both sides of the spectrum a hot brimstone shower with a nice exfoliating plague of locusts on top. I mean, at this point, the audience is abundantly clear about the film’s message. The last thing we need is a dead horse-beating exposition scene.

The very last scene is pretty good though. We see Michael Parks’s good reverend in prison singing hymns to himself and demonstrating that his faith is unshaken. It goes on for some time before the distant shout of a fellow prisoner tells him to “Shut the fuck up!” Roll credits. Writing it down like this makes it sound stupid, but the humor (and poignancy) come from the juxtaposition of this scene with the sermon scene in which his followers hang on his every word and encourage him with exclamations of “Preach it!” and the like. The final scene highlights how far he’s fallen, and gives us a bit of satisfaction that the inmates aren’t likely to fall for his self-righteous sermonizing.

Way to over-explain it, Marvin.

As his “auctioning” of the film’s distribution rights suggests, Red State is a movie by a filmmaker who has given up trying to please people. Remember the last time Smith tried something new? He took a more serious dramatic turn with Jersey Girl, and when his core fanbase criticized it, he piled on too, apologizing and admitting it sucked (hey, no more than Dogma). Then he immediately went back to his tried and true characters with Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. His entire career since then has been about pleasing the fans, until now. Ironically, trying to cater to his fans has led to losing many of them. If he’d just continue in the direction he started with Red State and try to grow as a filmmaker, he’d probably win them all back and then some.