Thursday Guilty Pleasure: Week Three

Yes, I know it's Friday--humor us, will ya? Missy Yearian of Chickapin Parish and myself are back in your face with movies we're ashamed to admit we actually love. I dig deep into the mists of time for a movie that proves not all horror films of the '30s are classics, while Ms. Yearian defends one of those notorious Platinum Dunes remakes...

Maniac (1934)

I'm fully convinced that Ed Wood must have traveled 20 years into the past, changed his name to Dwain Esper, and brought this film into being. There's really no other way to explain how a motion picture that so smacks of the King of Bad Cinema could have emerged during the golden age of classic horror.

The tale of a mad scientist and his vaudevillian comedian accomplice on a mission to reanimate corpses, it's really just about as bad as you'd think it would be. OK, well, it's actually a whole lot worse. The actors seem to have been people just pulled in off the street and told to make random gestures and exclamations, the production value is on a par with the local high school's presentation of Brigadoon, and best of all, the whole thing is punctuated by an unbearably overwrought narration about the dangers of the criminal mind or some such nonsense.

And yet, despite all this--or perhaps because of it--I couldn't take my eyes off this flick when I first watched it as part of one of those 80,000-horror-movies-for-50-cents collections which I picked up a while back at my nearest soulless big box outlet. What's interesting to me, is that when you think of bad movies of this caliber, you're usually not going back any further than the 1950s. If you want to be extra thorough, you can find some real clunkers from Monogram and their ilk from the '40s. But the '30s? For some reason, most people only think of the likes of Frankenstein, The Invisible Man, Dracula, etc. when discussing that era. Well folks, allow me to present you with a glaring exception to the rule.

Maniac is a kind of torture, but a sublime kind. It's the same kind of experience one gets watching Bride of the Monster or Plan 9 from Outer Space only, for whatever reason, far less infamous. Watch it for one of the most overacted death scenes in history. Watch it because its original pre-Hays Code title was Sex Maniac. Watch it because it features an actress named Phyllis Diller, who isn't the one we all know. For all these reasons and more, watch Maniac.

And when you do, you'll discover the wonderful, unifying truth that I did: Really bad movies have been around as long as there have been movies.



And now, gather round as Missy extols the virtues of the TCM remake...

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)

This one is sure to get me kicked out of the Cool Kids Club, for I love the remake of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. I know it’s like a rule for all of us to have a hate on for Platinum Dunes, and I do. I swear I do. When they made that Amityville Horror remake, I held up my middle finger. When they remade Friday the 13th, I held up my other middle finger. And when they trotted out A Nightmare on Elm Street, I turned around, pulled my pants down, and mooned a metaphorical Michael Bay.

But I can’t help it. I love a movie that begins with a traumatized victim whipping a gun out of her vagina. Could she walk so well with a gun in her spam purse? Probably not! But who cares? Wouldn’t gravity sort of make it fall out from between her meat curtains since she was clearly wearing no underwear? Most likely! But what difference does this really make? I’ll tell you. It makes no difference… none at all. The moment is sheer absurdity, and that is what makes it so awesome.

You see, the original is clearly like the best horror movie in the history of history. (Yes, I know that’s debatable, but just give me some leeway, will you?) And it was so frightening because it was so simple. The idea that something so macabre, something so grisly, could exist behind the front door of a simple farmhouse is a terrifying one (and one that kept me up nights as I grew up in a house just like it). And this remake all but obliterates that notion.

Our baddies live in some dilapidated manor—a home anyone would be stupid to enter. But stupid is exactly what they are. And if you’re looking for a film wherein people you kind of can’t stand (especially Morgan who must be an intentionally irritating character who does almost as a good as job of pissing you off as Franklin) get picked off, this is the movie for you. Gone are the days when you want to see people live. Gone are the days when you don’t know what’s going to happen. This movie is an exercise in predictability.

I realize that makes it sound just awful, and you know, it really is. But there’s something oh-so-comforting in that predictability that just draws me in. This movie is like a sweater you keep in the bottom drawer of your dresser and only trot out when you’re feeling lonely. It’s just a comforting piece of shit, my friends. And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.

TRAILER TRASH: Texas Chainsaw Massacre Edition!

Dennis Hopper 1936-2010

He was one of the most revered actors of our times, known to moviegoers for his iconic turns in such films as Easy Rider, Apocalypse Now, Blue Velvet, True Romance and Hoosiers. And yet horror fans can also take pride that this respected figure in Hollywood, one of the most "legit" performers of the past 40 years, was also a part of two of the most beloved horror franchises of the past 40 years: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and George Romero's Living Dead series. Last Saturday, Hopper passed away after a quiet eight-year battle with prostate cancer, just 12 days past his 74th birthday.

Hopper was a key part of a very crucial, transformative period in American film making. After a career as a child actor on the stage, he burst on the scene in the 1950s, part of the early wave of post-World War II method actors that washed over Hollywood. Still a teen, he found early success in westerns on TV and the big screen, and fell in with James Dean's circle, appearing with the legendary, ill-fated actor in Rebel Without a Cause and Giant.

But even early on, Hopper was what we might politely call "eccentric", making scenes on-set and quickly gaining a rep for being difficult, culminating in being banned from the MGM lot by the lord of all movie moguls, Louis B. Mayer, after a very heated argument over the young actor's desire to play Shakespearean roles. By the '60s, the young man who had once been one of the last of Hollywood's traditional contract players began taking chances with edgier, independent cinema.

This meant working with grindhouse icon Roger Corman, and it also meant dabbling in horror. In 1961, he made his horror debut with Night Tide, a quirky picture about a guy who falls in love with a girl who turns out to be a killer mermaid. He starred in the 1963 Twilight Zone episode "He's Alive", about Nazis operating in the United States. Three years later, he appeared alongside genre faves John Saxon and Basil Rathbone in the AIP alien vampire flick Queen of Blood.

During the '60s, Hopper went from potential teenage matinee idol to part of a burgeoning counterculture movement within Hollywood, which culminated in 1969 with Easy Rider, the film he directed, which literally altered the American film landscape overnight. Hopper, no doubt bitter over previous treatment, was one of those who eagerly danced on the grave of "old Hollywood," once famously declaring at a dinner party to Gone with the Wind co-director George Cukor, "We are going to bury you!"

But although Hopper was undoubtedly part of the movement that transitioned cinema into the "modern era", his own personal demons--including substance addiction--prevented him from following through on his early promise as well as he and others would've liked. He reinvigorated his career to a degree by the end of the '70s with an unforgettable supporting part in Francis Ford Coppola's Apocalypse Now, but his star had unquestionably fallen.

It might not have been what he most wanted to be doing, but as he attempted to piece his career back together on the comeback trail, Hopper wasn't above returning to his genre roots. He most notably did so in 1986 for Tobe Hooper's long-awaited Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, in which he played police lieutenant Lefty Enright, uncle of the original film's Sally and Franklin, out for vengeance against Leatherface and the gang. Despite Hopper citing the film as the worst he was ever in, it is his best-remembered horror role, and directly preceded the film that put the exclamation point on the Hopper comeback, David Lynch's Blue Velvet.

Into the 1990s and beyond, Dennis Hopper continued taking on the occasional genre role--often to his detriment in films like Super Mario Bros. and the infamous Waterworld. He starred in the 1994 HBO film Witch Hunt, in which he played a private detective named H. Phillip Lovecraft (!) operating in an alternate-reality 1950s in which everyone practices magic. Eight years later, he appeared with Lance Henriksen in the poorly received, low-budget thriller Unspeakable.

But Hopper would turn a lot of heads with his final horror appearance, in George Romero's 2005 big-budget return to the zombie genre, Land of the Dead. Despite his paradoxical real-life Republican affiliations, Hopper gleefully parodied George W. Bush and Donald Rumsfeld with the villainous part of Kaufman, unscrupulous owner of Fiddler's Green, a tiny enclave of humanity amidst a world overrun by the dead. Also featuring Simon Baker and John Leguizamo, the film was Romero's first studio-backed zombie film--the first to feature marquee actors--and Hopper's name on the bill undoubtedly helped raise the project's profile.

Dennis Lee Hopper was a true original and a Hollywood trailblazer who wasn't afraid to take chances (sometimes by necessity) and shake up the status quo. Along the way, this brilliant actor and filmmaker left his indelible mark on the history of cinema, from his mainstream dramatic performances, to the genre appearances horror fans will particularly cherish in their hearts.

21st Century Terrors, Part 4: 2003

A Happy New Year to one and all--and what better way to commemorate the end of the Aughts than with another installment of 21st Century Terrors, The Vault's look back at the last decade in horror? This time we look back on a year that saw the genre in full bloom, both in the U.S. and abroad.

If for nothing else, 2003 will be remembered as the year that a grunge rocker who made his name on the alternative scene of the early 1990s would step into the horror world full-time. Rob Zombie had long incorporated horror motifs in his music and his well-crafted stage persona, but this time he was throwing his tattered cowboy hat into the directorial arena, taking aim at making his very own horror film.

The result would be House of 1,000 Corpses, one of the defining horror movies of the 2000s. A synthesis of the '70s exploitation horror that had mesmerized Zombie in his youth, the movie was a quirky, surreal blend of dark black comedy and the most grisly, brutal violence. House of 1,000 Corpses gave us the diabolical Firefly clan, and most memorable of all, one of the decade's greatest horror icons--Captain Spaulding, played to sinister, uproarious perfection by B-movie veteran Sid Haig.

Zombie's love of exploitation horror meant appearances by Karen Black and Bill Moseley--and who could forget the infamous Dr. Satan? Despite its derivative nature, in some ways Zombie's House of 1,000 Corpses was one of those kinds of movies that epitomizes an era in the genre.

In a way, this was also the year that gave birth to another 2000s horror mainstay, Saw. Love it or hate it, no one can deny the importance of this film, its magnitude and the impact it had on horror this decade. It was this year that director James Wan and writer Leigh Whannell produced a short film--nine minutes to be exact--that would reveal their groundbreaking concept to the world. The short would become the seed for the decade's most dominant horror franchise. The following year, Wan and Whannell would literally change the face of horror by turning it into a feature film.

Meanwhile, around the world, the genre was truly thriving. France, soon to be a major player on the terror scene, gave us Alexandre Aja's High Tension, considered by many to be among the finest fright flicks of the decade. Japan brought forth Ju-On 2, the sequel to the original version of The Grudge; South Korea gave us 4 Inyong Shiktak, which would later be remade in the U.S. as the dreadful The Uninvited. Also in Japan, the brilliant Takashi Miike created Chakushin Ari, which would also later be remade in America as the awful One Missed Call.

From another corner of the English-speaking world, namely Australia, came Undead--the year's big contribution to the recently exploded zombie rebirth. And although it was a somewhat lackluster film overall, you have to give the Spierig brothers an E for Effort. They brought a ton of enthusiasm to the zombie subgenre, and generated a lot of buzz in the process, keeping people interested in those nasty flesh-eating ghouls.

But speaking of remaking horror movies, that whole trend would continue in 2003. Michael Bay's production company Platinum Dunes, now infamous for pumping out cynical remake after cynical remake, would make some waves with one of their earliest efforts, a redo of the classic Texas Chainsaw Massacre. More slick and stylish than the early '70s grindhouse favorite, the new TCM also provided more backstory to the movie's characters--some would say to the story's general detriment. The pattern was officially set for so many groan-inducing remakes to come...

Other past genre icons returned in different ways. We'll always remember 2003 as the year that Freddy finally met Jason in the most highly anticipated horror smackdown since Frankenstein battled the Wolf Man. It had been a long time coming, but this fun monster mash-up finally came to fruition, returning Krueger and Voorhees to the screen for the first time in years (especially Freddy, who hadn't reared his scorched head in nearly a decade). If not taken too seriously, this far-from-scary flick turned out to be one hell of a fun ride.

Two of the 2000s primary franchises, Final Destination and Jeepers Creepers, cranked out their first sequels--some would say they were superior to the originals, particularly in the case of FD. And another franchise would take off--namely Wrong Turn, an effective entry in the "cannibalistic inbred lunatic" horror subgenre. Some innovative kills and the lovely Eliza Dushku made this one a cut above, and it quickly became one of the decade's cult faves.

Horror was indeed in full bloody bloom in 2003, taking a darker, gorier turn than ever. By now, fans had a feel for what they could expect from the decade that would see a return to the more visceral, intense horror of yore, while still taking it in innovative new directions.

Also from 2003:

• Beyond Re-Animator
• Gothika
• House of the Dead
• The Toolbox Murders
• Willard

Part 1: 2000
Part 2: 2001
Part 3: 2002

* * * * * * * * * *

On a side note, I just want to take the time out to belatedly thank Marc Patterson, editor of the superb Brutal as Hell. A month ago, BAH kicked off a new series called "Horror Bloggers We Love", and yours truly was the very first to be profiled. Thanks again, Marc! As for the rest of you, pay BAH a visit--it's chock-full of excellent horror goodness from the likes of Marc and talented horror savant/grammar nazi Britt Hayes...

And while I have your attention, please be so kind as to head over to Wired.com's 2009 Sexiest Geek Contest and cast your vote for loyal Vault dweller and Fandomania.com writer Paige MacGregor. That is all.

The Tuesday Top 10: Favorite Horror Movie Characters

I was recently tagged by D.J. Heinlein (if that isn't your real name, it should be) over at Matte Havoc as part of his "Ten Favorite Movie Characters" blog meme. So I figured I'd tweak it just a bit for The Vault, and use it as an excuse to unveil my new weekly feature, the Tuesday Top 10 (sorry, BJ-C, not trying to steal your Tuesday thunder--it's all about the alliteration, kid.)

And so, without further ado, I give you my Top 10 Favorite Horror Movie Characters:

10. Capt. Spaulding
"Why don't you just take your momma home some chicken, and then I won't have to stuff my boot all up in your ass!"
Nearly as entertaining as the Groucho Marx character from which he takes his name, Sid Haig's character in Rob Zombie's House of 1,000 Corpses and The Devil's Rejects is a joy to behold. You can keep Freddy Krueger, Hannibal Lecter and Patrick Bateman--for my money, the good captain is horror's most charismatic psychopath.

9. Dr. Pretorius
"To a new world of gods and monsters!"
It takes a special kind of man to out-crazy Dr. Frankenstein. And by gum, Pretorius is that man. His bizarre experiments with tiny "homunculi", and unholy desire to continue Frankenstein's work on the reanimation of dead tissue even have ol' Henry himself calling for a time-out. And you have to love any guy who can sit down to a chicken dinner inside of a crypt.

8. Delbert Grady
"Perhaps they need a good talking-to, if you don't mind my saying so. Perhaps a bit more."
Is he a figment of Jack Torrance's warped imagination, or an honest-to-goodness phantasm? It's tough to know for sure--although the infamous food locker scene leans me toward the latter--but whatever he may be, ol' Grady is one hell of a riveting co-creation of King and Kubrick. And if you don't agree with that, I might just have to... correct you.

7. The Hitchhiker
"My family's always been in meat."
This backwoods wackjob did for roadside hitchers what Jaws did for sharks and Fatal Attraction did for side poon. Leatherface may hog all the glory when it comes to the TCM family, but I'll take this hand-slicing, weird facial birthmark-having, photo-burning fruitcake any day of the week. Too bad he was the only family member who didn't survive to make it to the sequel.

6. Eli
"Please Oskar... be me, for a little while."
Just for the record, if I was a 12-year-old boy and she moved next door to me, I would happily run off with her and become her pint-sized Renfield. Without looking back. Sorry, Mom and Dad... Thanks to an enigmatic and chill-inducing performance by remarkable child actress Lina Leandersson, Eli is the most fascinating movie vampire since Bela walked down those castle steps.

5. Tarman
"More brainsss!!"
By now, my unconditional love for all things Return of the Living Dead is a well-known fact (expect a big announcement pertaining to this soon). And hands down, the coolest thing in the whole movie (aside from Trash's graveyard dance) is this walking-and-talking gelatinous cadaver. The only thing that pissed me off is how easily Bert disposes of the big guy. Batter up!

4. Renfield (as played by Dwight Frye)
"I'm loyal to you Master, I'm your slave, I didn't betray you! Oh no, don't! Don't kill me! Let me live, please! Punish me, torture me, but let me live!"
One of the most criminally underrated character actors of the 1930s, Dwight Frye turns a minor character in Stoker's novel into arguably the character who steals the whole damn movie. You can live for a hundred years, but if you've seen Tod Browning's Dracula, you will never forget the image of Frye grinning from the below the deck of the Demeter, emitting that iconic laugh...

3. Bub
"Hello, Aunt Alicia."
Speaking as a connoisseur of all things Romero, I can say with confidence that this was the maestro's finest zombie creation. Ditto goes for makeup wizard Tom Savini. Day of the Dead has its problems as a movie, and may not quite be in the class of its two predecessors, but Howard Sherman's character makes it a must-watch, it's as simple as that.

2. Ashley J. Williams
"Gimme some sugar, baby."
Alright, so it's always cool to namedrop Ash for horror street cred, but you know what? There's a reason for that. The guy is legitimately the single greatest bad-ass in the history of fright flicks. I love him and his boom stick in Army of Darkness. I love him fighting his own hand in Dead By Dawn. Hell, I'll even take the more timid, boyish Ash of the first Evil Dead. That's how much I love him.

1. Count Orlock
"Blood! Your precious blood!"
It's been said before, but it may still very well be that F.W. Murnau's 1922 classic is the finest Dracula adaptation of them all. Yet, Max Schreck's Orlock is an entity all on his own, with a distinct persona and look that virtually transcends horror cinema, if not cinema as a whole. The rising out of the casket, the unforgettable shadow-walk up those stairs. This, readers, is the stuff of cinematic horror immortality. It gets no better.

Leatherface Hanging Up the Chainsaw for Good?

After 35 years, a sequel, a prequel, and three different reboots, it could finally be the end of the road for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise... at least for the foreseeable future.

Brad Fuller of Platinum Dunes (the company responsible for the last two TCM entries) told ShockTillYouDrop yesterday that there is no interest on either their part, or Warner Bros.' part, on making another one:

"I think the original rights owners now own those rights. I haven't heard anything for over a year now, but I think they want to go out and make their own Texas Chainsaw. While I used to always hope and pray that we could do another one, I don't feel that anymore."

Fuller and his partner Andrew Form go on to indicate that they want to distance themselves from the "torture porn" aspect of horror that TCM (at least their version of it) represents. With Friday the 13th hitting theaters next week, the Nightmare on Elm Street remake--set to start filming in 12 weeks--is next up for them.

Could this mean that the torture porn subgenre is finally petering out? In any event, we may have seen the last of everyone's favorite redneck cannibals. As for those "original rights owners" Fuller was referring to, I'm not sure if he's talking about Tobe Hooper, who formed the company Vortex Inc. in 1973 for the specific purpose of producing The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. A new TCM flick from Hooper himself would certainly be an item of interest.

* * * * * * * * * *

A heads-up to all you loyal Vault Dwellers: Look for my second Vaultcast tomorrow, when I plan to upload the phone interview I just conducted with Jim Krut, better known to you folks as Dawn of the Dead's "Helicopter Zombie"!

Horror Remakes: Then vs. Now

There was once a time when news of a remake was pretty exciting for many horror fans. At least the ones I hung out with. That may be hard to believe, given the current glut of remakes flooding the market, but it's true. I can still remember a time when a horror remake stood a damn good chance of equaling, or even surpassing the original on which it was based. But that's all changed now. And it's time to ask why.

SHEER NUMBERS

The halcyon time to which I'm referring was roughly 20 to 30 years ago--an era still revered as a latter-day golden age for the genre. It was a time of great creativity, with new ideas being put forth, and expressed in ways that were previously off-limits to filmmakers in the days of the Hays code. Remakes weren't nearly as common back then as they are now, in part because writers and directors were too busy exploring uncharted territory, and studios had the confidence to back their efforts.

But when remakes did occur, you can bet they were very often quality pieces of business. Because filmmakers and studios weren't all hung up on desperately returning to past material over and over again, when they chose to do so, it was usually for a good reason.

The Fly--one of the high watermarks of the remake subgenre--is a great example. David Cronenberg had already established himself as a unique visionary of horror, with a lot to say and an unusual way of saying it. He chose to remake The Fly partly because he wished to comment on the original, and to say something new about certain aspects of life in the 1980s, most notably the AIDS phenomenon.

In contrast, today remakes are greenlit without rhyme or reason. Churned out left and right without any real reason for being beyond the bottom line, they represent the ultimate in cynical thinking on the part of studios and distributors completely unwilling to take a chance and looking for nothing more than a quick, easy buck each and every time out.

REVERENCE FOR THE MATERIAL

Some may say I'm idealizing, but there was a time when those who made these films came at them with a great deal more respect for and interest in the source material than you find today. John Carpenter has gone on record as a huge fan of Howard Hawks' The Thing from Another World. And consequently, his remake (arguably the best of them all) is made with an affection for that film. Not that you need to be familiar with the original to enjoy the movie, but it adds another dimension of enjoyment if you are.

The Thing, and others of its kind, were made by people who revered the originals, and who expected at least part of their audience to have the same familiarity/fondness for them that they had. There was a certain amount of intertextuality to them. These were films that were definitely commenting on the films that had come before them.

Conversely, today's remakes are very often greenlit before any creative folks are involved, and then foisted upon filmmakers who are not nearly as connected to the source material. They are also, by and large, made with the assumption that their audience has never seen/heard of the originals on which they're based. For all intents and purposes, they are meant to overwrite the originals.

Mention House of Wax to anyone under the age of 30, and I can guarantee you they're 100 times more likely to bring up Paris Hilton than Vincent Price. Yet, as a kid, despite being 30 years removed from the 1950s original, I was still keenly aware of it, and it was a favorite of mine. Today's remakes do not invite further exploration into the genre; rather, they impede it.

CHANGING TIMES

A big part of the excitement that surrounded the remakes of yore had to do with what had become possible in the intervening years since the originals came out. Vast improvements in special effects meant that the Blob would no longer look like a jello mold, but rather a truly living, elastic, acidic entity. We could still love the originals, but our interest was piqued to see what the new breed of special effects wizards could do with the classic monsters of yesteryear.

There was also the very real fact that unrestricted filmmakers could now tell more intense, more violent, and less "safe" stories. This was another aspect that made for a golden age of horror in the 1970s and 1980s--the notion that the gloves were off, and we were seeing things we had never seen before. And this even carried over into remakes.

To go back to The Thing, Carpenter's version contains a much greater sense of urgency than Hawks', and Carpenter's characters convey a much more real and intense sense of abject terror and paranoia. Remakes like The Thing were also free to end on much bleaker notes than their originals, which still hearkened back to the era when most monster flicks were forced to wrap things up nice and neat in the end.

That era of pioneering has long since passed. For the most part, many of today's fans would agree that the practical special effects of those days are, in fact, superior in some ways to what we get today. Is there anyone hankering to see what the great movie monsters of the past would like as CGI? And as for tone, the recent horror movie upsurge may have returned gore to the level of prominence it once held in the genre, but these are still films of a decidedly "safer" nature. The new Texas Chainsaw Massacre, for example, may display more blood and guts than Tobe Hooper's version, but it lacks any kind of socio-political subtext, and becomes nothing more than a mindless date movie.

EXCEPTIONS TO THE RULE

My regular readers know I'm far from close-minded in my viewing habits. When I see quality, I recognize it. And I admit, therefore, that not all remakes of today are bad. A few, in fact, are quite good--and it's worth looking into why that is in order to even further understand why it is that most don't work.

I hold up Zack Snyder's Dawn of the Dead as a recent example of a terrific horror remake. And I say this as a die-hard Romero stalwart who railed against the very idea of a remake for months prior to the film's release. But once I saw it, I had to shut my big fat mouth.

Yes, Snyder's film removes the social commentary utterly, which I just pinpointed as one of the weaknesses of modern remakes. But in this case, it worked for me, because Snyder was making a conscious decision to take the source material and move in a different direction, for a reason. He didn't want to slavishly ape the original for new fans; rather, like the great remakers of old, he wished to add something to what had come before.

The new DOTD is more action-horror than its predecessor, with set-pieces that Romero wouldn't have the budget--or the inclination--to pull off. As controversial as they were, Snyder's fast-moving zombies completely restructured the film's entire dynamic, creating a very different kind of terror based more on frantic desperation than creeping dread. It even took pains to acknowledge its source, with nods to Romero's film that were included with respect for the original, and its fans.

Yes, I still prefer the original. But Snyder's movie does what so many current remakes fail to--justify its existence.

* * * * * * * * * *

From a business standpoint, it isn't hard to understand why we're seeing all these remakes. With built-in "brand recognition" and a pre-existent script, the horror properties of the past are a safe bet. People will come to theaters based on name alone, or at least the name becomes a kind of "marketing starting point". You don't have to build something from scratch--and hey, if it worked before, it should work again, right?

Idealists need to understand that questions like, "What is this adding to the original?" "Why do it? The original is untouchable," are irrelevant. At least to the decision-makers involved. These are not people who are interested in improving on the originals, adding to them, or even commenting on them. They are only interested in the money to be made, and nothing more. And that's the whole problem.

Blood & Guts: A History of Horror Movies, Part 5

In the wake of the turbulent 1960s, the horror genre had been dramatically and permanenently altered. One taboo after another was being torn down, and it would be in the following two decades--viewed by some as the genre's second golden age--that the doors would be completely blown off.
In many ways, the 1970s represent an era in horror flicks which has yet to be equalled in terms of shocking themes, graphic violence and unflinchingly grim outlook. The demise of the restrictive Hays Code spawned two branches: one in which top-flight films began to be made with horror subject matter, and the other in which blood-soaked low-budget exploitation material meant easy money.
The success of Rosemary's Baby led to 1973's The Exorcist, often hailed as the most frightening horror film ever made. Whether or not it was, The Exorcist was a mainstream American film dealing with demonic possession--something that would've been unheard of just several years before. A series of occult and Satanic-themed pictures would follow, including Alice, Sweet Alice (1976) and The Omen (1976). All dealt frankly with matters of religion, and contained powerful dramatic performances.
On the other end of the spectrum, American audiences were confronted with a type of horror they were thoroughly unprepared for, and in the process some of horror's finest directors would make their names. Wes Craven emerged on the scene in 1972 with The Last House on the Left, featuring brutal scenes of rape and disembowelment. Two years later, Tobe Hooper created what was arguably the pinnacle of the subgenre, the nightmarish Texas Chainsaw Massacre. And in 1978, George Romero followed up his seminal '60s masterpiece Night of the Living Dead with Dawn of the Dead, this time ratcheting up both the gore quotient and the social commentary.
This explosion of explicit gore content was unheard of in the history of cinema, particularly American cinema--and it didn't go unnoticed outside U.S. boundaries. Other countries, most notably Italy, soon followed suit. Italian filmmakers such as Dario Argento, Mario Bava and Lucio Fulci churned out films that in many ways surpassed their American counterparts in terms of their power to both disturb and revolt.
Popular horror fiction writer Stephen King would become a force to be reckoned with in the movie world, as well. Beginning with 1976's Carrie, his novels and short stories would prove a fertile source of film material. Perhaps the greatest of them all would be Stanley Kubrick's The Shining (1980), quite possibly the best-made fright film ever.
By the end of the 1970s, the new style of horror was firmly in place, and even some of the old subgenres would begin to be reinvigorated by it. Ridley Scott gave us Alien in 1979, capitalizing on the success of Star Wars to bring back the horror/sci-fi movie. And it was the year before that John Carpenter produced a film that would take the territory first mined by Psycho to a whole new level, defining 1980s horror in the process.
Halloween was a new kind of horror flick, specifically, it was a slasher flick, portraying a superhuman, stalker/killer (in this case, Michael Myers) who systemically murders a series of hopeless victims over the course of 90 minutes. Although most still regard it as the high watermark of slasher movies, it spawned literally countless followers.
Chief among them would be Friday the 13th (1980) and A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), the franchises which gave the world Jason Voorhess and Freddy Kreuger, respectively. The 1980s would be dominated by these types of horror movies and their limitless sequels. And although today a generation of fans who grew up on them look back with fondness and nostalgia, at the time they were viewed by critics and older fans as the genre's all-time nadir.
Nevertheless, by the early 1980s horror had begun to struggle again at the box office. Some point to the advent of VHS home video, with most low-budget flicks in general having trouble competing for audience dollars with massive Hollywood productions. Horror would find a new home in the video market, with releases such as The Evil Dead (1981), The Fly (1986) and Re-Animator (1985) becoming run-away hits with audiences that found it easier to pay less and watch in their own homes. In the U.K., this led to the phenomenon of the so-called "video nasties"--movies deemed by British censors to be unacceptable due to home video's availability to children. Naturally, these pictures would become the most sought-after for British horror fans.
The 1980s' other major contribution would be the proliferation of horror comedy. Although humor had always had a place in the genre, never before had gut-wrenching violence been so deftly meshed with black comedy as it was in such pictures as Sam Raimi's Evil Dead II (1987), Dan O'Bannon's The Return of the Living Dead (1985) or Peter Jackson's Bad Taste (1987). With the almost mind-numbing level horror movie violence had achieved, it was a natural reaction to spoof it.
The 1970s and 1980s produced some of the most powerful and disturbing horror movies ever seen. Some would even argue the genre hasn't reached similar heights since. Yet despite changing times, the standard set during those years would become a benchmark to inspire and motivate every horror filmmaker who came after.
Other major releases:

• Black Christmas (1974)
• The Hills Have Eyes (1977)
• Suspiria (1977)
• Phantasm (1979)
• The Brood (1979)
• Zombi 2 (1979)
• Scanners (1981)
• Creepshow (1982)
• The Thing (1982)
• Basket Case (1982)
• Poltergeist (1982)
• Day of the Dead (1985)
• Hellraiser (1987)
• Child's Play (1988)
  

Part 1: The Silent Dead
Part 2: Gods & Monsters
Part 3: It Came from Hollywood
Part 4: The Times, They Are a-Changin'
Soon to come - Part 6: From Post Mortem to Postmodern

For a Change, Something for Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fans to Be Happy About

Seems there's a very intriguing project currently in the early stages, and you can count me on board from now. Vern at Ain't It Cool News has a fascinating interview up with Christopher Garetano, a young director who is pitching a script for a movie called South Texas Blues.
An ardent TCM fanatic, Garetano has written a screenplay all about the making of Tobe Hooper's original 1974 classic. Not a documentary, mind you, but a fictional movie based on the making of the film (think Shadow of the Vampire or Ed Wood). Further, he plans to include a lot of fantasy or magical realism moments as well (think The Big Lebowski or The Fisher King), making this a very unique concept indeed.
Part of what interests me is Garetano's casting ideas. For instance, he happens to be good friends with Ed Neal, who played the deranged hitchhiker in the original movie, and is considering casting him in the role of Jim Siedow, the actor who played his older brother in the original. And in a particularly inspired move, for the role of Neal he's hoping to cast Ray McKinnon, who played the preacher on the first season of HBO's superb Deadwood. Anyone who's a fan of that show should understand how perfect McKinnon is for the part.
It's a pretty in-depth interview, so I'd suggest checking it out to get the full idea. Garetano seems like a bit of a flake at times, but then, most great thinkers are, so I wouldn't be surprised if this turns out to be quite a piece of work.
Here's a little featurette Garetano put together for potential investors in the film. I know if I was an obscenely rich producer, I'd certainly risk a couple mill on it:
Online Videos by Veoh.com



* * * * * * * * * *

Almost forgot, I find it necessary to acknowledge the box office triumph this week of Meet the Spartans. This is the strongest evidence I've gotten in years to support my long-held hypothesis that most people are stupid.