Yes I Know, It's Another BLACK SWAN Review...

By now, everyone and their wicked stepmother has seen and reviewed Black Swan, the psychological thriller that has set the film world afire as of late. And because it is such a disturbing and frightening film, it has crossed over into the horror realm, leaving hordes of black T-shirt wearers giddy over the thought of a "serious" mainstream Hollywood film falling under their purview--and getting Oscar consideration, no less. It's like The Exorcist or The Silence of the Lambs all over again.

In the wake of all the buzz, I recently had the pleasure of finally catching the film, along with my undead cohort Captain Cruella, as a welcome break in the midst of our multitudinous online and real-world activities. And I must say it turned into a whole lot more than a simple diversion for either of us. In fact, I'd say we both agreed that it was one of the best, if not the best film of 2010, in our experience. And so, I'm sorry, dear readers, but you will have to sit through yet another gushing review of this breathtaking movie from Darren Aronofsky. The man who brought us such fine work as Requiem for a Dream and The Wrestler has done it again with this mind-frak of a flick, starring the amazing Natalie Portman as Nine Sayers, an aspiring ballerina up for the dual lead role in a slick new production of Swan Lake. I haven't seen every nominated performance, but it's difficult for me to imagine Portman not taking home the Best Actress Oscar for this.

My initial reaction to the film was to think of it as "Suspiria meets Jacob's Ladder", and while this summation is a bit too neat and not really accurate, there are definitely elements of both. You have the balletic backdrop, with so much psychological strife being dredged up as a result of it; and you have the very real horrors of the mind gone mad, causing the viewer to lose sight of the line between fantasy and reality.

I spent part of the film trying to discern if what I was watching was supernatural in nature, or all in our main character's mind. The taut, kinetic script--a collaboration of young, relatively untested screenwriters Andres Heinz, Mark Heyman and John J. McLaughlin--keeps us on our toes, and pulls us deeper and deeper into Nina's internal world. Make no mistake, this is horror--only horror in the same sense that a film like Moon is horror.

Along those lines, the movie fairly is obsessed with bodily trauma, in an almost Cronenbergian way. In particular, the fixation on finger/fingernails was particularly disturbing, akin in some way to Lucio Fulci's eyeball fetish. Our writers--as well as the always-intense Aronofksy--definitely understand the kinds of things that get inside the head of the average person, and use that knowledge to great advantage in engendering a cinematic environment that manages to both keep the viewer completely off-kilter while also enthralling with its gorgeous lushness.

A large part of the credit must also go to Matthew Libatique, Aronofsky's cinematographer on both Pi and Requiem, who triumphantly returns here with a visual painting that speaks to the viewer in a way that no dialogue ever could. This is the power of the camera, and why film will always be a vision-based medium, first and foremost. The imagery, combined with Clint Mansell's original score and the overarching snippets of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake itself, provide quite the potent cocktail, and it's one which surely held me in its spell from beginning to end.

It's difficult to describe the intensity of the experience of watching the film. I honestly sat there in the theater chair gripping the armrests with white knuckles from time to time--and this comes from a rather jaded film-goer who is more than capable of deconstructing the art while in the process of viewing. When a film can still get to me like that, I know it's good.

The journey of Natalie Portman's character Nina is an almost mythic one, yet told on a completely personal level. In her efforts to uncover the dark, "black swan" aspect of her personality, she delves deep within herself, with mounting horror at what she discovers--and we're right there with her, along for the ride. It's a journey of growing dread, and as the film progresses, it takes on almost Kafka-esque proportions. It's the journey of the mind made physical--who says Expressionism is dead?

This is clearly the performance of Portman's career, and if anything, witnessing the magnitude of her dramatic power here is proof positive that George Lucas--who directed her to utterly wooden results in his Star Wars prequels--has absolutely no idea of how to work with live, human actors. But in addition to Portman, Black Swan is also populated with a variety of powerhouse performances. These include the striking Barbara Hershey, whose own faded beauty only adds to the strength of her turn as Nina's overbearing failed ballerina mother; Vincent Cassell as Nina's mentor Thomas, hilariously described in a recent Saturday Night Live spoof as "the world's only straight French ballet choreographer"; and Winona Ryder in an unexpectedly shocking and harrowing appearance as Nina's onstage predecessor and the former paramour of Thomas.

It's long been said that the most terrifying material of all is that which festers inside us--in essence, that the truest horror is the horror of the human mind gone awry. And Black Swan is certainly a classic example of this--a worthy successor to films like Repulsion and Carnival of Souls, that force us to confront the fact that we all have within us the capacity to drive ourselves mad.

Nina's startling transformation into the black swan is the transformation of an individual who can only find release in the acceptance of that within her which also has the power to destroy her. The result is a film of great power--an intimate portrait of the human mind, which also manages to be simultaneously epic in scope. This is horror of the most cerebral variety--deeply rewarding, and utterly unforgettable.

Having Some Fun with Dave Reda's HORROR OF OUR LOVE...

It's been described as a "horror romantic comedy short film that twists your normal love's story's back until it breaks," and that just about sums it up. A tasty little sendup of '80s slasher cinema crossed with MTV kitsch, Horror of Our Love is the kind of morsel that will bring a smile to any died-in-the-wool fright fanatic. Being one myself, needless to say, it left me tickled pink, with a goofy grin on my face--and I'm not even a fan of slasher flicks!

Shortly after we checked out the short flick, Captain Cruella and I recently had the pleasure of interviewing Zombie Dave Reda, director of Horror of Our Love (you can give that interview a listen over at Cruella's Crypt). And I have to say, I'm hard pressed to decide which was more fun--chatting it up with the hilarious Mr. Reda, or checking out his clever film.

The encapsulated tale of unrequited love between a Jason-like slasher (played by Reda himself) and a would-be final girl, Horror of Our Love is made with an obvious sense of love and admiration for the type of cinema being lampooned. As the strains of Ludo's song of the same name play, we are treated to our anti-hero's clumsy, and brutally violent attempts to win the heart of his lady. Needless to say, some serious splatstick antics ensue--and not to give too much away, but it all ends up leaving the viewer with a nice, warm fuzzy feeling. Kind of like Friday the 13th Part 4. Except not at all.

Horror of Our Love has been showing at a few film festivals, including Dances with Films last summer, and most recently, Liz & Brenda Fies' Bleedfest. The Captain and I were privileged to have an opportunity to check it out, and we hope that you get a similar chance sometime soon. Here's to more brilliant bits of horror comedy gold to come, from the twisted mind of Zombie Dave!

In the San Diego area for Valentine's Day? Check out Horror of Our Love as part of Miguel Rodriguez' Horrible Imaginings film festival on February 12, in which it will be screening alongside Bride of Frankenstein!

Dave Reda at Cruella's Crypt

Epic Mickey Game Preview

Has anyone played this yet? Looks good! According to HERE:

"The character Yen Sid (originally from the Fantasia movie) created a world where all the original and now forgotten characters of Disney’s incredible animated history can reside.

Mickey Mouse, seeing all this through his mirror, decides one day to visit the model/world that Yen Sid created to see what it is truly like. In the process of Mickey’s exploration and Yen Sid’s sudden awakening out of bed;

Mickey accidentally spills thinner on the model, damaging the world and in effect creating “Wasteland” as well as the ink blot that becomes the game’s antagonist. He spends some time trying to quickly repair the damage he has made and then rushes back through the mirror and forgets all about the model.

That is until one day when the ink blot seemingly pulls him back through the mirror to face what he has done. You spend a lot of the game furtively trying to clean up the mess Mickey has made.

To accomplish this you must of course defeat enemies along the way. But you have two options; take the easy route and use the thinner which will essentially destroy your enemies or you can choose the more difficult path and repaint them."

The Lucky 13 Returns! Week Seven: Christmas

Deck the halls and all that jazz, Vault dwellers! We are but a few days away from the single most commercialized holiday of the year, and that can only mean one thing for The Lucky 13... That's right, we're taking a look at our favorite Yuletide-themed horror flicks. Here's hoping all my gentile friends have a beautiful Jesus B-Day this year, but in the meantime, check out what we've put together below--and be sure to also head over to Brutal as Hell for their Santalicious choices...

B-Sol on The Nightmare Before Christmas

I had debated whether or not to include this as my Halloween pick, since it could arguably work for both holidays. But I've always felt, first and foremost, that Tim Burton and Henry Selick's 1993 masterpiece is a Christmas movie. A very twisted and deliciously deviant Christmas movie, but a Christmas movie nonetheless. And it truly is such a unique motion picture--what is there not to love?

I mean, really... Have you ever come across someone who didn't like this flick? I know I haven't. It's a brilliant work of art, a triumph of stop-motion animation, and a refreshing change from the usual stale holiday fare. I can't recommend it enough for your family's festivities. It really is a beautiful motion picture, with superb art direction, the usual terrific music by Danny Elfman, and of course...that irreplaceable, completely wacked-out Burton sensibility.

I happen to be a big-time Christmas person (although Halloween has been gaining in recent years, natch), and so a movie like this one really does warm my heart. It's got pathos without being treacly, it gets to the very core of the holiday spirit without getting preachy, and best of all, it never fails to be entertaining. Plus, it's one hell of a marvel to look at. I never get tired of it, and really, it's the type of film whose greatness precedes it.



The Mike of From Midnight with Love on P2

If there's one thing we know about Christmas, it's that nobody - no matter their religion, beliefs, or status - wants to be alone for the holiday. That's the case for both Thomas and Angela in P2, a Christmas Eve chiller from the folks behind High Tension and Piranha 3D. Angela is a business woman who is driven to succeed, and is thus working late on Christmas Eve, while Thomas is the Elvis loving security guard who haunts her building's parking structure professionally. Both have their own ideas as to what their holiday will consist of.

But there's a disconnect between their plans for this holly jolly holiday. Angela wants to get home to her family, who are already disappointed that she's running behind again; Thomas just wants Angela's company and will go to any lengths to keep her around. His action plan starts with car sabotage, moves ahead to kidnapping and re-clothing (the film is certainly in contention for any awards for "Best Low Cut Dress in a Supporting Role"), and he soon escalates to trying to win Angela's heart by brutalizing the coworker who groped her at the work Christmas party. Angela has her sanity intact, and is not as receptive to Thomas' advances as he hoped she'd be. (To be fair, she should at least be thankful for that dress.)

Wes Bentley has been a fish-out-of-water type of actor for most of the years since his breakout performance in American Beauty, but here he seems to capitalize on the quiet unease we felt with his voyeuristic character in that film. As Thomas, Bentley manages to become a Jekyll-and-Hyde of sorts, balancing between portraying a socially awkward everyman and a totally homicidal maniac without going too far over the top. Offset by Rachel Nichols' Angela, who seems to be a prototypical survivor girl, the film really succeeds in presenting a Christmas nightmare for her as Thomas tries to live out his Christmas fantasy.

Though this disparity in their Christmas plans might have been more interesting at a shorter length - I'm reminded of Tales from the Crypt's wonderful "And All Through the House..." tale - the filmmakers do a fine job of filling the rest of the film with some well-executed games of cat-and-mouse and a couple of vicious scenes that establish danger while providing ample splatter. The film could have worked focusing on its setting alone (Has anything good ever happened in a parking garage?), but its Christmas conundrum makes it a fun treat for anyone who wants something more horrifying than a holiday with the in-laws.



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Join us next week for the Christmas edition of The Lucky 13 Returns!

Week 1: Halloween
Week 2: Man vs. Nature
Week 3: Veteran's Day
Week 4: Thanksgiving
Week 5: Hanukkah
Week 6: Horror Musicals

The Lucky 13 Returns! Week Six: Horror Musicals

Ring-a-ding-ding, Vault dwellers! For those heathens who may not be aware, this past weekend marked what would have been the 95th birthday of the one and only Francis Albert Sinatra, who only happens to be my very favorite musical performer of all time. And so, I managed to coerce both Brutal as Hell and the crew here into dedicating this week of The Lucky 13 Returns to horror musicals and music-related horror films in general.

So pour yourself a Jack & Coke, light up a Lucky Strike, and swing easy, baby! It's what Frank would've wanted...

B-Sol on The Wicker Man (1973)

It's interesting that this film is very often not really thought of as a musical, but it kind of is. It contains a couple of very atmospheric folk tunes from Paul Giovanni ("Corn Rigs" and "Gently Johnny") which totally stop the dramatic proceedings in their tracks. And as with most well-done films of musical bent, this does no harm to the film whatsoever--rather, it enhances it. And of course, we also have the deeply disturbing Middle English rondo "Sumer Is Icumen In" performed during the picture's chilling climax.

So we've established that the British cult classic is very much about music as well as horror. What we also need to establish is what a damn fine horror film it is. But you don't need me to tell you that. The Wicker Man is, simply put, one of the finest horror films ever made, and still has the power to shock in a very real way. Interestingly enough, the movie's sheer shock factor is in direct counterbalance to the hauntingly beautiful music featured throughout. And if anything, that juxtaposition makes the whole thing even more terrifying than it would have been otherwise.

There's a reason this film consistently makes just about every short list of the greatest horror films of all time. And while it's an even bigger deal in the U.K. than it is here in the States, it is definitely the kind of cult classic movie that needs to be seen and appreciated by all who consider themselves serious enthusiasts of the genre. Christopher Lee is at his insidious best, and of course Edward Woodward is so damn powerful in the lead role of Sgt. Howie. If you have never seen The Wicker Man (and I mean the original here--don't bother seeing the remake unless you need a good laugh), then do me a favor and fix that right away, okay? Very good.



Missy Yearian of Chickapin Parish on Wild Zero (1999)

When I first watched Wild Zero, I was pretty sure I had stepped into an alternate dimension. I had never seen anything so absurd in all my life. In fact, I am pretty sure I will never see anything quite that absurd. Wild Zero is ninety odd minutes of insanity, and it’s one of the funnest experiences one could have with a movie, but even within all that senselessness, there is something deeper going on.

Ace is obsessed with the band Guitar Wolf (played by the real-life band of the same name). When he witnesses a club owner about to hoodwink the band, he stands up for them. Ace and the band vow revenge on their double-crosser Captain. Meanwhile, space aliens land on Earth causing the dead to rise in rural Japan. As they fight for their lives, Ace falls in love with a young transgender named Tobio.

Yeah, it’s a bit of a convoluted mess, but it’s a pretty incredible one. From Guitar Wolf throwing guitar picks to protect himself to Captain’s incredibly tight hot pants, the film is an experiment in what-the-fuckery. While I might have said those words at least forty times while watching the film, I was still engrossed all the way through.

The factor that holds the whole film together is the love story. Ace and Tobio begin sweetly, but as her trans status becomes an issue the film manages to pull itself out of its own farce just enough to ally itself with a queer agenda—and all before the turn of the century. The film is incredibly entertaining, and while it might not seem like it’s coming out firmly on the side of queer politics, given its release year, it’s really quite ground-breaking. So if you decide to sit down and take in this strange little zombie romantic comedy, look forward to one of the most ludicrous activist films ever made.



C.L. Hadden of Fascination with Fear on Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007)

The legend of Sweeney Todd has been immortalized on stage and screen countless times throughout the years, and there have always been questions raised as to the validity of the supposedly true story. Starting out as a penny dreadful in the mid 1800's, it was most recently adapted for the screen in Tim Burton's 2007 version starring Johnny Depp in the title role.

Sweeney Todd: The Demon of Fleet Street is first and foremost a musical, and uses the Stephen Sondheim/Hugh Wheeler music and lyrics made popular in the late 70's Broadway smash. At once dark a dark and sinister production, the songs tell the story of Benjamin Barker (Depp), a simple man - a barber - whose life is forever changed when the corrupt Judge Turpin (the eternally impressive Alan Rickman) covets Barker's beautiful wife and goes to extremes to see her his. He throws Barker in prison on a trumped up charge and moves his heartbroken wife and young daughter into his own home.

Fifteen years later Barker is back, now calling himself Sweeney Todd. He's hellbent for revenge after he finds out his wife has poisoned herself and Turpin has his daughter Johanna (Jayne Wisener) locked away in an upstairs room of his home. He sets up a barber shop above the overly-zealous Mrs. Lovett's (Helena Bonham Carter) pie shoppe with the intent of luring Turpin there. Thing is, Todd isn't just shaving necks, he's slicing them open and sending the bodies to the basement through a trap door in the floor. Once in the bowels of the meat market the corpses are ground up and used in Mrs. Lovett's meat pies. Gah!

Oh the scandal of it all! To think something such as this would be made not only into a movie but into a musical is in and of itself a bizarre notion. But trust me, it works. A bleak and overtly grim London is portrayed in the seediest fashion imaginable, with poverty and hardship duly noted as our characters interact with not only each other but the hopeless city itself. Not a singer by trade, Depp's performance is actually more than just acceptable. He does an excellent job with the material, and had even the most wary critics backing him when the film came out. Bonham-Carter's voice isn't quite as stellar, but she certainly looks the part.

While it may seem to be a far stretch from your typical musical - and it certainly is a graphic little slice of cinema - Sweeney Todd is the musical for people who hate musicals. And it's perfect for horror fans. You do have to wait awhile for the gory carnage to start, but about halfway through the film the red stuff starts to flow freely. How they depict this on stage is beyond me, but Burton's film version not only looks amazing, but pulls off the story in fine fashion and is more than worth a look. After all, the bottom line is they are grinding people up and eating them. Even if you hate musicals, you have to admit that's pretty nasty.



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Join us next week for the Christmas edition of The Lucky 13 Returns!

Week 1: Halloween
Week 2: Man vs. Nature
Week 3: Veteran's Day
Week 4: Thanksgiving
Week 5: Hanukkah

Thursday Guilty Pleasure: Week Five

After an entire month, at long last we bring you the final edition of the Thursday Guilty Pleasure, a joint venture between the Vault and Missy Yearian's Chickapin Parish! What can we say, it takes us a long to work up the courage to make these confessions, so bear with us...

In this swan song installment, I've got a particularly rare (and some might say forgettable) early '80s bit of cinematic corn, while Missy turns her attention to a film which I happen to like a great deal, even if i recognize that many people don't have much patience for it. So let's jump right in, shall we?

Saturday the 14th (1981)

Much like TerrorVision last time, this is one that goes back to the early HBO days for me. Saturday the 14th--a bizarre horror spoof that some misguided Hollywood exec somewhere once thought was a clever idea--was in constant rotation on the fledgling cable network. And at the time, I just thought it was the funniest thing imaginable.

Mind you, I had never even heard of Friday the 13th at the time, let alone seen it. Which is probably for the best, since this movie has nothing to do with it whatsoever--despite the fact that its title was intended as a timely parody of the aforementioned slasher classic. Looking back, one even has to wonder why the film was even called that, but at the time I didn't even bat an eye. Of course, at the time, The Electric Company was also my favorite TV show. But that's neither here nor there.

The very talented Richard Benjamin, Paula Prentiss and Jeffrey Tambor are all in this clunker, which leads me to think that a lot of people must've once thought that this movie was going to be a really big deal. Well, as we now know, those people were dead wrong. Saturday the 14th is now naught but a footnote in the history of horror comedy. But it'll always have a place in my heart, even if I can't quite understand what I ever found so funny about it...



...And now, Missy Yearian to discuss the merits of Tarantino's grossly misunderstood contribution to Grindhouse...

Death Proof (2007)

There are people in the world who could be identified by their status as Quentin Tarantino fans—people so rabid in their affection for the director that they’ll get borderline violent in their defense of his films. Me? I like him. I like him a lot. But he sure is an arrogant prick. Still, even these folks seemed to turn their noses up at his Grindhouse feature Death Proof.

Many people cite Planet Terror as being the better of the two halves of the Grindhouse experience. And I suppose I can see this perspective. But where Planet Terror is a loving homage to Grindhouse films, Death Proof actually is a Grindhouse film. And for my money, I would much rather watch an actual Grindhouse film than watch a movie that simply loves them.

In the past, I have heard people complain like crazy about the dialogue in this film. They say it’s vapid and shallow and completely irritating. And I suppose it could be, but what Grindhouse movie have you seen that doesn’t have throwaway dialogue that could have easily been cut? This is Tarantino writing for people we don’t necessarily like. This is him creating characters with much less depth than we’ve grown accustomed to. This is him writing about women whose real power comes in the form of violence.

And let’s talk about that violence, shall we? The first car accident in the movie is, for my money, worth the ticket price alone. It’s a completely non-CGI splatter fest, and I found myself utterly gleeful while watching it. Come on y’all, when that tire runs over Arlene’s face, it might just be one of those most shining moments in any one of Tarantino’s films. It’s as memorable as two American soldiers pumping bullets into Hitler’s face, as special as seeing Bridget Fonda bored to tears while being humped by Robert DeNiro. It’s a prime Tarantino moment.

But this isn’t the only quality moment in the film. The last twenty-ish minutes of the movie are absolutely joy-inducing. For once that tired old line “a white knuckle thrill ride for the ages” actually fits. The chase scene with Zoe Bell being Zoe Bell and Kurt Russell being… well, I am guessing Kurt Russell (you would too if you’d scene Big Trouble in Little China as much as I have) had me howling with laughter.

And if that weren’t enough, you have the cast, which I am sure some of you are going to be surprised that I love. To begin, you have Vanessa Ferlito looking hotter than she ever has and giving a lap dance that makes me wish I hadn’t levied all those arguments against strip clubs. And then you have Rosario Dawson who, no matter how hard she might try, can never seem to make me look away.

But the real stars of the film are Kurt Russell and Zoe Bell. Yes, some people seem irritated by that fact that Tarantino is so damned infatuated with Zoe Bell, but to that I say, “Aren’t you?” Watching Bell do her thing might be the best time I have ever had in the theater.

And Kurt Russell is by turns creepy, ugly, handsome, and hilarious. Even if I didn’t love the rest of the film, I would find it worthwhile just for the moment when he pours alcohol onto his gunshot wound and simply cries, “Why? Why? Why?” Let’s face it, friends, no matter what happens, we’ll always love a little Kurt Russell.

Okay, so there are stretches of boring in there. Of course there are. When is the last time you saw an actual Grindhouse movie? Because I am sure I have never seen one that couldn’t have been trimmed drastically. I applaud Tarantino for making a movie he loves—even if his fans didn’t follow in line. I did, however, and I can’t help but watch Death Proof at least twice a year.

The Lucky 13 Returns! Week Five: Hanukkah

Mel Brooks gave us Jews in Space, but this week in The Vault of Horror--as well as Brutal as Hell--we're giving you Jews in horror! That's right, it's Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights! And this time around in The Lucky 13 series, we're casting our oil lamps on Jewish horror directors. Specifically, I've chosen to write about my very favorite horror film by a Jewish director, and my dear colleague Ms. BJ-C of The Vault's sister blog Day of the Woman has taken an even broader approach, spotlighting three of her very favorite horror directors among the Chosen People.

So put down that dreidel, stop giving your poor mother so much shpilkes with all your meshugass, grab a bissel cake and read on...

B-Sol on The Exorcist

It may seem a tad silly selecting this film, since it could very easily top the list of most people's favorite horror movies, period--let alone horror movies from Jewish directors alone. Nevertheless, since The Exorcist went mysteriously absent from the original Lucky 13 series (Not even in the Devil & Demons category?? Come on, people!), this is my chance to right that heinous wrong.

What can possibly be said about this classic to extol its greatness that hasn't already been said? It was nominated for the Oscar for Best Picture, and remains the highest-grossing horror movie ever made. And although it has its detractors--as all great films do--there can be little doubt that The Exorcist is one of the all-time triumphs of American cinema, a crown jewel from an era that gave us so many.

With stellar performances from Ellen Burstyn, Max Von Sydow, Linda Blair and especially Jason Miller in particular as the beleaguered Father Damian Karras, this is a film of great depth and weight, finished in a way in which few horror films are finished, with the deft touch of a master auteur. It's unfortunate that Friedkin never quite equaled the heights he achieved with The Exorcist, his masterpiece, but it nevertheless remains as what it has been for much of the past four decades--not just a great horror film, but the great horror film.

BJ-C of Day of the Woman on David Cronenberg, Eli Roth & Sam Raimi

Cronenberg:
Okay, so I'm sort of splitting hairs on this one, considering Cronenberg has denounced his Jewish faith and identifies himself as an atheist. Regardless, he was raised in a Jewish household and that's good enough for me. Cronenberg is easily the king of venereal horror films. No one can make a film as gruesomely intelligent as Cronenberg. His films often times explored the fear factors humans possess when it comes to infection and bodily transformations. For me, someone with an uncontrollable fear of being diagnosed with leprosy, he hits the nail on the head every. single. time. A small little tidbit is that Cronenberg was considered to be the director for Return of the Jedi, and I can honestly say that the world wouldn't have been able to handle that much awesome in one film, and the results would have been the equivalent to dividing by zero... So I guess it's a good thing he didn't pick up that job. But Cronenberg will forever be the king of body horror.

Eli Roth:
Oh, Eli Roth, you sexy sexy bear Jew, you. As much as the world is fully aware of how much of a douchebag you are in real life, I can't take away the fact that you directed some of the most highly thought-of horror films of the last decade. Personally, I disliked Hostel, but I'd be a fool if I denied the fact that his films have developed an almost cult-like following. Roth definitely has a fiery passion for the genre and for that, he has my respect. As for his actions on Twitter towards other horror journalists... he's on the fence ;)

Sam Raimi:
Alright, Sam Raimi is the God of my world. He gave me our savior, Bruce Campbell, and his Necronomicon Ex Mortis serves as my Holy Word. There is absolutely nothing that this man touches that didn't turn to perfection. I'm including Spider-Man 3. There, I said it.

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Join us next wee for an edition of the Lucky 13 that will be very near and dear to my heart... as we commemorate Frank Sinatra's birthday weekend with a look at our favorite musical horror films! Ring-a-ding-ding, baby!

Week 1: Halloween
Week 2: Man vs. Nature
Week 3: Veteran's Day
Week 4: Thanksgiving

The Lucky 13 Returns! Week Four: Thanksgiving

Pass the cranberry sauce, would you? Yes, folks, it's the time of year to give thanks once again--and also to gorge ourselves on food and pass out in a tryptophan coma on the living room couch. It's Thanksgiving! And I don't know about you, but I'm thankful each and every year for the opportunity to share my love of horror with the world via this little musty corner of the interwebs. As part of that gratefulness, we here in the Vault, and over at Brutal as Hell, have turned this edition of the Lucky 13 over to everyone's favorite turkey-related holiday.

You might be asking, just how many Thanksgiving-themed horror flicks are there? And you'd have a valid point, as this was one of the more challenging installments to put together (hence the anemic number of contributions). Still, I got a little creative, and I hope you enjoy our offerings this week. Also, enjoy Thursday, and make sure not to overdo it. OK, overdo it all you want--what am I, your mother?

B-Sol on Godzilla vs. The Smog Monster (1971)

I know what you're thinking. What on earth does a giant irradiated lizard doing battle with a massive mountain of sludge have to do with Thanksgiving? Clearly, you didn't grow up in the Northeastern U.S. during the 1970s and 1980s. Because if you did, you'd know that Thanksgiving was the day they carted out all the giant monster movies to show on syndicated TV.

Don't ask me why they did it, but it was just like getting to see the Wizard of Oz every year on Easter. It never failed that each Thanksgiving, WWOR Channel 9 (I believe it was) would dust off such gems as King Kong, Son of Kong, Mighty Joe Young, and more Godzilla films than you could shake a spiky tail at.

By far, my favorite amongst them was Godzilla vs. The Smog Monster, a.k.a. Godzilla vs. Hedorah. In fact, it was a highlight of the holiday for me, and I would look forward to sitting on the floor cross-legged in front of the TV after the big dinner to take in all the Toho goodness while my uncles and aunts snored away all around me. Wonderul times...

Why did this one stand out so much for me? Do you need to ask? Animated interludes... The classic hippie environmentalist theme song, "Save the Earth"... The funkiest Godzilla foe of them all... And best of all, some really messed up imagery--this was one of the darkest and most violent of the classic Godzilla movies, for sure. It's easy to understand why I loved it so much. And why I miss those Thanksgivings of yore...



Joe Monster of From Beyond Depraved on Ravenous (1999)

When I think of all the delightful trappings of the Thanksgiving holiday (the cold weather, the brotherhood, and the heaping piles of succulent meat), the only film that immediately comes to my mind is the backwoods be-bad-or-be-eaten bonanza known as Ravenous. Although the film didn’t fare well with critics upon its initial release (or at the box office), this cannibalistic comedy immediately dug its way into my heart right on my first viewing of the film.

From the minute that our sniveling hero John Boyd enters the confines of Fort Spencer with its ragtag group of eccentrics and crazies, I could tell that this was just one of those types of movies that seemed to be made solely for myself. Things only get better when the ever-charismatic Robert Carlyle arrives on the scene, and the film is pumped up a few gory and insane notches once he reveals his true flesh-hungry identity. The rest of the movie plays out as a good vs. evil skin munching demon-type scenario, with Pearce’s stoic John Boyd attempting to take down Carlyle’s devilishly charming Colqhoun before the mad faux-colonel can feast on all the inhabitants of the base.

There’s much dark humor to be had in the film, mostly due to Carlyle’s unique dining habits. Ranging from the absurdly silly (David Arquette screaming “He was licking my foot!”) to the fiendishly black (the strangely hunger-inducing scene of the troops sitting down for a steaming bowl of homo sapien), the comedy in Ravenous never overwhelms the sense of terror that it manages to pull off simultaneously, keeping the film completely balanced on the tight rope that separates horror from humor.

Although even I can’t claim Ravenous to be a cinematic masterpiece, I also cannot deny the massive amount of ghoulish fun that I have when watching it. There are deeper themes touched upon in the movie, such as Boyd’s search for redemption for his acts of cowardice. But let’s face it. When you get down to it, you end up watching Ravenous just so you can see a blood-soaked pilgrim chase down his dinner to the twangy plucks of a banjo. It’s a viewing experience in the best tradition of the holiday (although you should probably save this one for when the kids go to bed after the Charlie Brown special). Set the table, pop in the DVD, and good God let’s eat already.



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Head over to Brutal as Hell to see what Marc and the gang have cooked up! And join us next week when the Lucky 13 will have something very special in store for Hanukkah... I'm verklempt just thinking about it!

Week 1: Halloween
Week 2: Man vs. Nature
Week 3: Veteran's Day

Tuesday Too Scared to Watch It Twice: Week Four

Here we are at last, after more than a month of cowardly musings... The final installment of Tuesday Too Scared. And to commemorate the occasion, Missy Yearian of Chickapin Parish and myself have something special for you.

You see, this time, we've both chosen the same exact film to discuss. That's right, one movie that neither one of us ever has any desire to see again--albeit for different, and equally fascinating reasons. One film that has galvanized us both, for this, the last Tuesday Too Scared. So sit back and enjoy as we cringe in pain at the work of Eli Roth...

Hostel (2005)

Watching Hostel was one of those watershed moments for me. One of those, "OK, am I getting too old for this shit?" kind of moments. I had long considered myself something of a gorehound. It was never my favorite kind of horror, but I took pride as a young horrorphile in seeking out the most depraved and nasty flicks I could get my grimy hands on. I didn't realize how much I had changed, until the day I got those hands on Eli Roth's Hostel.

It had been lent to me by a guy at work. You know the situation: "Hey, man. You like horror, right? OK, well, you should check this out!" So I did. As I look back on it now, that was a mistake. Because seeing Hostel was an experience that taught me that my tastes had changed, and even led me to slightly rethink what being a horror fan even meant for me.

Simply put, Hostel is an ugly film. A cynical, brutish movie that is depressing at its core. There is no entertainment value to be had, and it leaves the viewer with the urge to take a shower of Joan Crawford proportions. The plot is non-existent, and once we get past the boring and utterly odious "frat boys on vacation in Eastern Europe" portion, we get to something far more odious.

This film is the very definition of torture porn, containing scene after scene of unrelenting graphic violence put on display for no other reason than to shock and titillate. To some, that may be the clarion call to horror nirvana, but I have to say, it isn't for me. It certainly isn't now, and I'm not sure it ever was to this degree. This is a film that wallows in the very worst of human nature, and does so for no other reason than to get a few kicks.

I can remember sitting there thinking, "Why the hell am I even watching this?" And this is coming from someone who would jump at an opportunity to see Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Zombi 2 or Dead Alive back in the day. Reveled in them. But this? No thanks. Am I too old? I don't care. Too real, too cynical, and not fun, entertaining or even thought-provoking in the slightest.

Call me a horror prude. Call me a stick in the mud. Call me out of touch. But I plan to never go near Hostel again, as it represents for me the very worst and lowest common denominator of what this great genre has to offer.

And now, Missy chimes in as well...

I’m still not sure why I ever saw Hostel. It’s the very definition of torture porn, and I am ten thousand percent sure that there was never any chance I would like it, but I rented it and watched it in a dormer room in Southern Illinois. Mayhaps it’s that very Pokemon approach I take to horror movies: “Gotta see ‘em all.”

By now, it’s likely we’ve all seen this or at least know the story. A couple of incredibly irritating and offensive young Americans end up at a hostel in Eastern Europe where they think they will be able to bed many adventurous young women. (Though, I am relatively sure that any woman who sleeps with either of these jerkos should be kicked out of the women’s club forever and always.) Instead they become the victims of torture and abuse in macabre house of horrors.

When B-Sol and I were debating films to write about for this series, we both touched on the same theme in Hostel that makes it so hard to stomach. This is, without a doubt, the most hateful film I have ever seen. Even before the boys end up in the torture chamber, the movie is filled with hate. Primarily, our American tourists hate women. A more sexist mindset would suggest they love women, but they have no interest in women as individual people with identities all their own. They see women as tools designed only for their own pleasure, and within twenty minutes, I was sure I was going to hate this movie.

In addition to the hatred displayed by our protagonists, hatred is heaped upon them as well. As they become the victims of extremely brutal violence, each boy is made the object of Ameriphobic hatred. (I think I just made that word up.) It’s even stated that Americans fetch more money because everyone wants to torture an American. And really, who can blame them? If we are how this film represents us, I can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t choose us for the torture and maiming.

Ultimately what makes it such a horrible movie is the level of unbelievability. I mean, okay, so the woman’s face is all mangled, and her eyeball is hanging out. What do you do? You certainly don’t cut her eyeball off! This is just another moment wherein you are supposed to ingest male mutilation of the female body. And while I can watch a Friday the 13th movie with the best of them, I cannot intake this much hatred. There is wanton glee and disregard for the destruction of the female person and the female form.

As I am sure some of you will argue, there is also a great deal of abuse heaped on the male form. Yes, this is true. But none of it is with such disregard for the human being. The males at least have character and identity. The women exist purely as tools, and as a result of this, I cannot stomach ever seeing it again. The film has ruined me in a number of ways, but the one I am most grateful for? I now hate Eli Roth. I consider that a blessing.

The Lucky 13 Returns! Week Three: Veteran's Day

They say that war is hell, and hell is certainly familiar territory for the horror genre. Therefore, it's pretty easy to see that war would provide a perfect backdrop for some genuinely terrifying cinema. Truth be told, there are quite a few horrifying war films which are technically not actual horror films. War is horrible enough, in and of itself.

That said, there have been a number of powerful horror films revolving around the subject, and we here in the Vault and over at Brutal as Hell decided that in honor of Veteran's Day, we'd devote this week's Lucky 13 edition to just a few of them. So read on, and please make sure to thank a veteran, if you haven't already done so. In their efforts to protect us and all we hold dear, they faced down horrors far worse than anything seen in the movies...

B-Sol on Pan's Labyrinth (2006)...

There may be no greater visionary working in cinema today than Guillermo Del Toro, and Pan's Labyrinth was quite possibly his finest hour. It is a visual feast--a twisted, nightmarish look at childhood, seen against the backdrop of Fascist Spain during World War II. This is a film of great power, a visceral experience in a very real sense.

I've always been fascinated by fantasy and dark fairy tales. The origins of the Brothers Grimm stories in particular have always held a certain allure. And quite simply, Pan's Labyrinth is a potent distillation of that whole vibe, brought to life as only someone with the talent of a Del Toro could've ever done.

And through it all, what impresses me the most is the way in which such a bizarre, supernatural narrative could be so successfully juxtaposed with the very real setting in which our young protagonist finds herself. There is perhaps no monster in the film more terrifying than her own sadistic and brutal father, a cold and calculating captain in the Spanish army. The horrors of war are contrasted intriguingly with the horrors of a totally unearthly realm, and it makes for some unforgettable viewing.

Pan's Labyrinth is the kind of film that reminds us that as terrified as we may be of the unknown, there is perhaps nothing worse than the horrors of the familiar, and of the real. It is a treat for the senses, and my personal favorite horror film dealing with the subject of war.



Joe Monster of From Beyond Depraved on Deathdream (1974)...

War is hell, as they say. And sometimes that hell can invade the peace of the home and hearth. Such was the story of Andy Brooks, the main character in director Bob Clark’s fourth feature film Deathdream. Having previously tickled our morbid spines with 1972’s ghoulish Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things, Clark takes us down a completely different and dark road with this tale of battle scars that never heal.

When Andy returns home from fighting in the jungles of Vietnam, he’s not at all well. In fact, his father and sister were originally told that Andy had died in combat, so his appearance back home is peculiar to say the least. Dedicated fans of the horror genre could probably tell where the narrative is about to go at this point, but the film nevertheless manages to chill in its depiction of Andy’s terrifying transformation. The veteran soldier covers up his body from the sunlight with turtlenecks and gloves… and has an insatiable thirst for blood. He has become, for all intents and purposes, a vampire.

Deathdream though, much like George Romero’s Martin from the same decade, deals with the complex psychological implications of carrying a “curse” instead of focusing on the supernatural aesthetics of the scenario. Andy’s transgression into a walking nightmare provides moments in the film that are fraught with tension and dread. Clark lets us know that he isn’t messing around, starting right from the moment Andy brutally crushes the family dog in a chillingly inhuman manner. Like he was in combat, Andy cannot stop his killer instincts from getting the better of him as more and more people meet death at his hands.

It’s a potent metaphor for the tragic state in which some troops have been known to suffer from upon their return to their countries. Clark’s masterful direction of the story allows him to breathe life into this metaphor, and it never once becomes heavy-handed. It remains heart-wrenching up until the very end, with a climax in which Andy’s mother weeps over the living, rotting corpse of what was once her son as it desperately tries to dig itself back into its grave. It’s a moment that truly has to rank amongst one of the saddest scenes in horror history. And it’s on this grim note that Clark reminds us that, sometimes, life too can be hell.




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Join us next week for The Lucky 13, when we give thanks for our favorite Turkey Day horror flicks...

Week 1: Halloween
Week 2: Man vs. Nature

Cruella's Crypt: Halloween at New World Home Cooking

There’s really only one place to be in the Hudson Valley around Halloween, and that’s New World Home Cooking. If you don’t know about New World Home Cooking, or specifically Chef Ric Orlando, recent Food Network “Chopped “ champion, you clearly live under a rock.

New World Home cooking, located on Route 212 in Saugerties, New York, has been dishing out “clean food’ for about 16 years, and is recognized as the place for exceptional food, amazing music and outrageous parties. The recent Halloween season there was no exception.

Chef Orlando’s terrifying treats ranged from blackened chicken dishes, squid ink rice sides, blood orange drinks and so much more! The group I went with all sampled the “dark themed” menu specials for the night, which left us all totally blown away by the flavors, the textures, and the incredibly interesting combinations of all the food that was served.

As the night progressed, more and more Halloween revelers spilled into the place. By 10 pm the entire restaurant was hopping, with people dancing in two rooms separated by a big cozy bar area. One room playing everyone’s favorite disco tunes and the other room more house and techno beats--all jam-packed with dancing bodies and spectacular light shows. The costumes were as original as always--what would you expect? It’s Woodstock, baby! Everyone came out to enjoy what we all have come to know as the IT place to be. I recommend making the trek to spend the weekend in the Hudson Valley--and if you do, make sure to swing in, say hi to Ric, and tell him the Captain sent you.

Cruella gives New World Home Cooking:

4 Decaying Thumbs Up

Be sure to check out their delicious Thanksgiving menu too!

http://www.ricorlando.com/nwhchome.html

845.246.0900

Tuesday to Scared to Watch It Twice: Week Three

I think that instead of "Tuesday Too Scared to Watch It Twice", we should've called this feature "Tuesday Too Disgusted to Watch It Twice." But, be that as it may, Missy Yearian of Chickapin Parish and myself are back after a couple weeks with two more horror flicks that have creeped us out to the point that we avoid them (though we may admire them, nonetheless.) So jump right in, and let us know what you think of our squeamishness...

House on the Edge of the Park (1980)

Make no mistake, this is not a movie for everyone. It took a full five years for it to be released in the U.S. Banned in Singapore, Finland, the U.K., Canada and Norway; denied ratings classification in Australia and also released unrated in America. One of Britain's notorious "video nasties". Chock full of rape, torture and sadism.

I cannot deny that this movie enthralled me. I found it distasteful at times, but nevertheless I was fascinated by it, and also cannot deny that it is a fine little piece of filmmaking, for what it is. But there can be no question that it was designed to titillate, and to do so using some very questionable means. More than most of the movies today that get labeled "torture porn", this is a movie I would certainly classify as such.

The main problem I have with it is in the depiction of rape. This is the kind of story in which the rape victims actually start to "enjoy" themselves and give in willingly to their rapists. In other words, at times it feels like some guy's warped sexual fantasy, and I found it pretty damn uncomfortable in parts. There's a certain hypocrisy here--on the surface the film is condemning the callousness of these characters, but truth be told, you're intended to get off on watching what they do.

It walks a dangerous moral line, that's for sure. And yet, I'd rather have a horror flick like this which challenges me and makes me uncomfortable than most of the cookie-cutter, soul-numbing drek we get spoonfed these days.

While I'm not sure what it says about me, I admittedly eat stuff like this up. Maybe it's because it disturbs me--maybe I find it somehow cathartic to deal with material like this in a relatively safe way. It's the kind of movie that definitely provokes strong emotion.

Stepping back from it, I can certainly see how people would have problems with it. Much of the movie is simply one tense, gut-wrenching rape or near-rape after another. And when you watch a rape scene in which the supposed victim begins to "get into it", there's no denying it leaves a bad taste in your mouth. And yet, I somehow relish the power the movie has to provoke strong emotion, even if that emotion is disgust.



...Now on to Missy, with a look at an HGL "classic"...

The Gore Gore Girls (1972)

I love Herschell Gordon Lewis. Never in my life have I encountered a director so uninterested in making a quality film. What can I say? I love the arrogance required to make his kind of films. The man has got cajones.

I sat down to take in The Gore Gore Girls as my first HGL film. That’s right. I hadn’t seen Blood Feast or The Wizard of Gore or anything else before sitting down to what has rightly been called an “unwatchably offensive” film.

Reading the description of the film (strippers are being hunted and murdered one by one in a grisly fashion) confirmed for me a deep-down belief that this would either be the best film of all time or the worst. I was getting excited to see this Gore Gore Girls movie. Unfortunately, it is neither of those things. Oh, it’s bad. It’s terrible, in fact. But it’s not the worst, and as such, it sort of falls into that netherworld of “Meh” that bums me out so much.

Why then, you must ask, am I writing about this for the Tuesday Too Scared to Watch It Twice? It’s quite simple, really. This movie is filled with a gleeful hatred and a series of images one can never be prepared to see. From the first murder, we realize that the French have nothing on bodily mutilation. Our first stripper’s face is all but obliterated with the most aggressive facial stabbing I have ever seen. I’m pretty sure Lewis was just chopping up chicken parts. Another stripper is… how shall I say this? Tenderized? And, you know, that’s all well and good, and if the murders from then on were of the average stab-bleed-dead variety, then I likely wouldn’t think anything of it.

But then comes the boob-abuse. During a particularly brutal scene, our killer decides to cut off the nipples of a woman. Out of one nipple spills white milk. Out of the other spills chocolate milk.

I’ll just let that sink in for a moment.

The murders in this film are done with such wanton glee that it’s hard to notice the underlying tone of hatred. But this film does hate women. There is no way around it. To make a joke of not just the sex industry but also the ways in which the female body can be mutilated and destroyed is a dangerous choice and one that Lewis failed in making.

Still, try as I might, I can’t quite dismiss it. It’s quite a picture. And as much as I am sure it’s never going to be put in my DVD player again (even though I own it), I am also sure I will always be talking about it. And that’s worth something, right? Right?

The Lucky 13 Returns! Week Two: Man vs. Nature

There's a chill in the air. The warmth of summer has decidedly past. The leaves are turning. There's no doubt about it. As it does every year, nature is turning against us. Only lucky for us, we'll probably all survive it, more or less. But what about those extreme circumstances--when nature takes a look at man and says, to quote the little Marie in Rocky, "Screw you, creepo!"

Well, that makes for some seriously panic-inducing horror. It's a deep-seated fear in humankind, this notion that the natural world is against us, or can snuff us out in the blink of an eye. Whether its the weather, or the myriad flora and fauna that teem on its surface, Earth is not always the safest place to be. So join us this week, both here and over at Brutal as Hell, as we take a look at our favorite "Man vs. Nature" horror films...

B-Sol on Them! (1954)

It really doesn't get much scarier than giant, radioactive ants. There have been a whole slew of films about massive insects turning on humanity, but by my estimation, the granddaddy of them all will always be Gordon Douglas' 1954 masterpiece of atomic-era creature horror--THEM!

It all starts with a little girl in the middle of the desert, frightened beyond the capacity to speak? Why, you ask? Well, because she's witnessed the massive ants trudging their way through the New Mexico desert, tearing apart the silence with that ear-splitting, unearthly chattering. From there, the grown-ups discover exactly what's got her spooked, and before you know it, all manner of scientists and military men are enlisted to stave off the very dire threat.

Them! was one of a series of films that warned against the dangers of nuclear testing. It was because of that testing that the ants grew to such gargantuan proportions and set their sights on us. Granted, that might be an unrealistic scenario, but the message is clear: It's not nice to fool with Mother Nature. Bottom line, you mess with the natural order of things at your own peril. Man saw fit to split the atom, and as a result, he's forced to pay the price for his arrogance.

Them! is one of the all-time classic horror films of the so-called "Silver Age" of the genre. And the best part about it, when you get right down to it? Still, after all these years, those ants, with their cold eyes and incessant screeching, still have the power to chill the blood.



Missy Yearian of Chickapan Parish on Night of the Lepus (1972)

Every now and then you find a movie that seems to have been made with you in mind. The filmmakers must have been doing research on you specifically to come up with a concept that is so unique to you and you alone. I mean, really, how could anyone know that you, say, have thing for giant bunnies attacking a small town in Arizona? Night of the Lepus, it seems, was made specifically for me.

Cole Hillman is experiencing a plague of rabbits on his Arizona ranch. When he asks resident scientists to help him out with the problem, the consequences are... well, they're just so charming. Roy and Gerry Bennett (Stuart Whitman and Janet effing Leigh) get their experimentin' on to see what they can do to help save Hillman's ranch. When they inject a single rabbit with a hormone meant to weed out the population, their daughter--proving once again that children are evil and must be destroyed--accidentally releases the rabbit into the wild.

As the rabbit runs about in the wild, it grows to an incredible size. (One thinks this could have been the progenitor of the human growth hormone, no?) It doesn't take long for this rabbit to get it on with other rabbits, as rabbits are wont to do. And the town is soon faced with a plague of super-enormous rabbits. What will our heroes do to save Arizona from this scourge of furry-faced fiends?

Yeah, you see, Night of the Lepus sounds like a piece of dookie. And you know, you'd be right to assume that's just what it is. It is, after all, about giant bunny rabbits attacking a town. But the film is also an exercise in pure amusement. Though the first forty minutes of the film are largely rabbit-less, it works well to build up suspense and make our first viewing of a killer bunny--in an old mine shaft--all the more exciting.

As the irritating child of our scientists lurks about in the mine shaft, she discovers one of our enormous bunnies viciously attacking the already-dead body of a miner. This image is complete with bright red paint-like blood smeared all over our bunny's face. It's a shining moment, my friends, and I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that I nearly fell off my couch for the laughing.

After this first viewing, we are treated to many more shots of our killer bunnies. And here's how it goes. We see regular-sized pet bunnies attacking a teeny-tiny set of this Arizona town. And trust me when I tell you there is nothing better than watching cute, furry little buggers hop all over a fake town. It's, as I said, terribly charming.

I suppose therein lies the problem. If you see it as a problem, which I, obviously, do not. This movie is not scary at all. But really, do we want it to be? Do we want to have nightmares of giant bunnies? Well, I suppose, yes, the best of us do want that, but the point is in the joy of the affair and not the terror. You'll laugh. You'll cry. Oh what a time you'll have. After all, who doesn't love a movie that includes this line: "Attention! Attention! Ladies and gentlemen, attention! There is a herd of killer rabbits headed this way and we desperately need your help!"



Christine Hadden of Fascination with Fear on The Edge (1997)

While not a horror film, The Edge (1997) is man vs. nature at its best. Starring Anthony Hopkins and Alec Baldwin, it is a tale of survival, jealousy, and betrayal - with a heaping handful of adventure and some fairly gruesome sequences tied in.

Charles (Hopkins), a brilliant yet reserved billionaire, makes a trip to Alaska to accompany his fashion model wife Mickey (Elle Macpherson, not straying too far from type, obviously) on a photo shoot. It’s obvious from the get-go that she and her principal photographer Bob (Baldwin) share more than just a work-oriented relationship, and when Charles and Bob go further north with another assistant, Steven (LOST’s Harold Perrineau), and a bush pilot to look for a better vantage point for the shoot, things become strained. It’s quickly evident that while helpless and abandoned in the woods, Bob considers it a fantastic time to quite possibly just kill Charles so he can return and continue to woo the old money-bags’ wife and walk into some easy money.

When the plane crashes, killing the pilot and leaving the other three men stranded deep in the Alaskan wilderness, true colors are shown and tempers flare. Adding to the already distressing condition of simply being left in the wild with your enemy and dealing with the harsh weather conditions, they have the dreadful misfortune of pissing off a 1500 pound Kodiak grizzly bear with terrifying results.

At first, Charles tries to reassure the men with his book-smart acumen, telling them all will be fine, and they will simply walk out of the woods if no one comes for them. But as time goes by without rescue, they start walking in circles and they meet up with not only the man-killing bear (several heart-pounding times) but with hunger, disorientation, and blame, it becomes a struggle to stay alive and recognize who the true enemy really is.

A thrilling adventure, The Edge also has the added benefit of being scored by the late great Jerry Goldsmith - and it’s a positively superb accompaniment.
Well acted and all-too realistic (yeah, Bart the Bear did his own stunts!), The Edge should find an audience with horror fans looking for some survival frights - it certainly has more than enough of that to go around.



Vault contributor Paige MacGregor on Jaws (1975)

It is an undeniable fact that then 28-year-old Steven Spielberg’s first major motion picture, Jaws, changed the face of film forever. The film cost approximately $8 million to produce and became the first summer “blockbuster”, making $7 million during its opening weekend alone. The movie is best known for the iconic great white shark that terrorizes a small New England island community called Amity, but it isn’t the shark that makes Jaws my favorite “man vs. nature” horror film.

I hadn’t been exposed to many horror films when I first saw Jaws, and I have to admit that the movie really freaked me out. It would be years before I watched something like Hostel and became accustomed to the amount of blood and gore is frequently featured in contemporary horror movies, and for that reason Jaws seemed pretty gruesome those first few times I watched it. Of course, the really freaky part of Jaws is the fact that viewers can’t see the shark for the majority of the film (due to technical malfunctions with the robotic shark, “Bruce”, which prevented cameramen from capturing many of Spielberg’s planned shots), and as a result of this technique in combination with the film’s infamous soundtrack suspense builds, ultimately creating the movie’s reputation as an iconic “man vs. nature” picture.

I continue to watch Jaws time and time again not because of the shark, however, but based on the performances given by the film’s main cast: Roy Scheider (The French Connection, SeaQuest 2032) as Amity police Chief Martin Brody, Richard Dreyfuss (Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Mr. Holland’s Opus) as Marine scientist and shark expert Matt Hooper, and especially Robert Shaw’s (From Russia with Love, The Sting) portrayal of the old sea salt shark hunter Sam Quint. Between Quint’s repeated rendition of “Spanish Ladies” and the interesting and often comedy-ridden dialogue and interactions that arise from three disparate men sharing a common goal—to kill the man-eating shark—I can’t decide if I’d rather have Quint, Hooper, and Brody as three crazy uncles (okay, maybe two uncles and a cousin) or as beer-drinking, shark-hunting buddies.

Regardless, the scene from Jaws that will forever be emblazoned in my mind is Quint’s monologue about the sinking of the USS Indianapolis: “Sometimes that shark he looks right into ya. Right into your eyes. And, you know, the thing about a shark... he's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll's eyes.” Thankfully, Spielberg’s initial plan to cast Sterling Hayden (Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, The Godfather) as Quint fell through because of some issues between Hayden and the Internal Revenue Service and Robert Shaw was brought on board to play the veteran. It’s not often that a single scene makes or breaks an entire film for me, but when it comes to Jaws I highly doubt that I’d be as devoted a fan if Scheider, Dreyfuss and Shaw weren’t cast as the three main characters. After all, can you imagine someone else saying, “You’re gonna need a bigger boat”?



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Join us next week for The Lucky 13, when we honor Veterans Day with a look at the horrors of war...