Apocalypse Now

Tornadoes! Earthquakes! Hurricanes! The weather on the east coast this summer reads like a disaster movie, and the confluence of extreme phenomena has some people spooked. The twisters that tore a swath through western Massachusetts were odd enough, but when a rare quake shook the coast mere days before a hurricane struck, even my most level headed friends were publicly wondering what it all meant. Could it be a sign… of the end of the world?
This odd turn of events comes just months after the famously mocked “Judgement Day” came and went on May 21, without any sort of judgement. Harold Camping and other fringe elements had predicted a global earthquake and the Biblical Rapture would happen that day, but it passed uneventfully. People laughed it off, and it was soon nothing but a memory. So why are so many now contemplating end time scenarios?
The time is ripe for such a line of thinking. The economy is still miserable. The world remains in turmoil, with an ongoing war in Afghanistan and anxiety provoking activity in Iran. Nuclear weapons, once the fodder of so many doomsday scenarios, remain a very real threat. Changing societal mores—the ongoing rise of gay marriage being one prominent example—have provoked a backlash from religious conservatives who warn we’re on a path to damnation. We’re also highly aware of global warming, but an effective and concerted response has yet to emerge. In short, people are stressed out and depressed, and world destroying forces seem more tangible than ever. No wonder we’re imagining an apocalypse.
Pop culture doomsday's have been in vogue for a while now. A rush of zombie films starting in the early 2000s imagined the world falling to hordes of the undead. (“Not a zombie” zombie movies such as 28 Days Later feature ever-more-plausible results of biological warfare or experimentation gone awry.) Roland Emmerich, who made his name with the oddly prescient Independence Day (substitute terrorists for the aliens and you’ve pretty much got 9/11), has continued his streak with the global warming themed The Day After Tomorrow and the mythology exploiting 2012. (The approach of that date has spawned plenty of end times thinking all on its own.) Genre television from The Event to Fringe has imagined a world rocked by bizarre and supernatural events. On this fall’s Terra Nova, Earth grows so unstable that a group of colonists head back in time and attempt to rebuild society in the prehistoric era.
The idea of our world ending has always been dramatically compelling, but the recent turn of events has put me on a Judgement Day movie streak. On the eve of Hurricane Irene, I revisited the hokey but effective Day After Tomorrow, which seemed like a ridiculous distortion of global warming at the time. Watching it now, I found it both fun and deeply unsettling. After all, tornadoes didn’t hit LA, but they did make an unexpected appearance in my hometown of Springfield, MA this summer. And while no tidal wave swept through the streets of Manhattan last weekend, there was flooding in the lower part of the city, much of which was evacuated. On a lighter note, I followed with Mars Attacks!, a knowingly ridiculous homage to space invader films of the 50s. In its kooky, ultra-stylized way, the movie still dramatizes many of our worst fears, notably that our enemies are as intelligent and powerful as they are hateful and mindlessly destructive, and that our leaders are woefully inept. Jack Nicholson’s President Dale seems smarter than, say, George W. Bush, but he still refuses to see the writing on the wall until it’s far too late, giving the Martians second and third chances to attack and kill the American people.
Why am I and others so fixated on the end of the world right now? The superstitious answer is that we all sense the end is truly near. More realistically—and history bears this out—we are merely in the latest cycle of global anxiety and collective fears manifesting themselves as the worst possible scenarios. The world can be a scary and dangerous place—but let’s not get carried away. Rather than wallowing in morbid panic, we’d do well to follow the unflappable example of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who saved the world more than once on her long-running television series. Refusing to give up her social plans, she once quipped, “If the apocalypse comes—beep me.”

It's Fright Night again

Seemingly every notable horror title of the past two decades is being remade right now, but Fright Night is particularly well suited for a revamp (if you’ll pardon the pun). The original 80s classic was focused more on the humor of the situation, with a pleasingly hokey tone, some high camp performances, and memorable special effects. Director Craig Gillespie and writer Marti Noxon have the opportunity to make the story far scarier this time around, and they take it. The movie’s no ground breaker, but it succeeds as a suspenseful and entertaining thriller.
This Fright Night seems as much a response to the homogenized Twilight breed of vampires as it is a retake on Tom Holland’s original film. The movie’s bloodsuckers, led by Colin Farrell’s intimidating Jerry, are vicious and visibly monstrous killers. The gore is plentiful and the movie doesn’t shy away from depicting the terror and agony of Jerry’s victims.
The basic set-up is the same: Charlie Brewster (Anton Yelchin), a typical American teenager with a comely girlfriend (Imogen Poots’ Amy) discovers that his next door neighbor is a vampire. This time it’s Charlie’s friend Evil Ed (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) who brings the situation to his attention, and their tortured history—once the best of friends before Charlie decided to ditch his dorky pals and past—is one of the movie’s more compelling subplots. After Ed and a female neighbor fall prey to Jerry, Charlie becomes determined to take him down and enlists the help of Peter Vincent (a scene-stealing David Tennant), a Las Vegas magician in this retelling but every bit the coward Roddy McDowall’s character initially was.
Noxon’s script is a good one: brisk, clever (there’s a choice nod to her past work on Buffy the Vampire Slayer) and engagingly humanistic. There’s real pathos to some of the story lines, notably Ed’s lonely arc. As Jerry, Farrell brings a true sense of menace and danger; an early scene at Charlie’s doorway is dripping with tension. This, combined with a strong grasp of suspense, make Fright Night more frightening than the average horror flick.
The adorable Yelchin leads a cast of characters we can care about, an all too neglected element of horror films. A vintage classic has been remade as something stylish, creepy, and enjoyable.

"Don't Fuck With the Original"

With great anticipation, I went this weekend to see Scream 4, the latest installment in the post-modern slasher series that revitalized the horror genre in the late 90s. At one point a character tells Courtney Cox's Gale Weathers "You were my 90s!" and the same was true for me and series creator Kevin Williamson, the openly gay man who also brought us Dawson's Creek. I avidly followed the original Scream trilogy, as well as Williamson's various films and series, I wrote two plays heavily influenced by his hyper verbal dialogue, and my closet door was even decorated in tribute to his oeuvre. Scream 4 arrives a decade after 3 (which was noticeably *not* written by Williamson), long enough that what's old is new again-- or at the very least an exploitable brand. While Scream 4 isn't particularly scary (no Scream sequel has been as frightening as the ferocious original), it's great fun, and it does a nice job of encapsulating, in the tried and true wink-wink Scream way, everything that's happened to the horror genre over the last ten years. In the amusingly constructed opener, for instance, we get nods to torture porn, Japanese horror, and the self referential conceit itself, as well as acknowledgements of Facebook and Twitter. (The horror!) As the film progresses, there emerges a running discussion of remakes and "reboots," the dominant trend in horror since roughly 2003, and the obligatory "rules" conversation. This last bit proves sketchy at best: for instance, when was it established that gay characters are immune in horror films? (Clearly Williamson and co. missed the gay pal who got creamed by a bus in Bride of Chucky.) Still, Scream 4 has fun updating its style for a new generation, with a marked increase in gore as well as the brutal physicality of the killings. Towards the end, the killer, wanting to appear the "sole surviving" victim, gives themself nasty wounds and even falls back through a glass coffee table, a gleefully insane bit that recalls the deranged energy of the first film's culprits. While the new teens are nicely developed and appealing, it's in the handling of the returning characters that 4 falters at times. Gale's quip that "I've still got it" seems like an attempt to convince the audience (she lacks that oomph the character had in the original movies), and Dewey is given very little to do besides react to his wife's initiative in the murder investigation and fend off the advances of a smitten deputy. (Dewey is the sheriff now, but he's still seemingly as inept and slow on the uptake as ever.) Neve Campbell, who looks stunning, comes off the best, with a typically strong role in the film and a number of strong dramatic scenes-- plus plenty of butt kicking. (The heroine once praised for "having a Linda Hamilton thing going on" decidedly *does* still got it.) The shortcomings are ultimately balanced out by the satisfyingly twisty plot, and the climax proves that the Scream franchise, after all these years, still has something to add to the cultural conversation. The killer's motivation turns out to be a direct product of our exhibitionist, famous-for-being-famous society, making Scream 4 as damning to the 21st century's spawn as part 1 was to the "desensitized little shits" of 1996.

More old nightmares: The Simpsons Treehouse of Horror!

At a time when too few television shows seem to bother with Halloween episodes anymore, The Simpsons long-running "Treehouse of Horror" anthologies are like a jack-'o-lantern beacon to all us Halloween nerds. While recent years' entries haven't been as strong (much like the show itself), I love revisiting the old classics. Some of my favorite segments...
"Lisa's Nightmare"/"Bart's Nightmare"(1991)--The second Halloween episode is centered around candy-induced nightmares had by all three family members (in Homer's, Mr. Burns harvests his brain for a worker robot who, natch, is extremely lazy); the first two are the best, with Lisa's involving a fabled monkey's paw: "I must warn you it carries a terrible curse; I myself was once president of Algeria" the middle-eastern shopkeeper warns, to which Homer replies, "I don't wanna hear your life story-- PAW ME!" The family's wishes lead to riches, world peace, and, inevitably, ruin, as Treehouse stalwarts Kang and Kodos arrive from outer space to enslave the newly docile planet. (The comic ET's have had at least a cameo in every Halloween special since the beginning.) Bart imagines himself into a pitch perfect parody of "The Twilight Zone" classic "It's a Good Life," in which little Bill Mummy had an entire town under his psychic thrall. Here, Bart uses his powers to turn Homer into a jack-in-the-box (a direct lift from the original), but also to play pranks like having Moe tell his bar "I'm a big stupid guy with a big butt, and my butt smells, and sometimes I like to kiss my own BUTT! Hey, wait a minute..."
"The Devil and Homer Simpson"/"Terror at 5&1/2 Feet"/"Bart Simpson's Dracula"(1993)--The first is a brilliant vignette in which Homer sells his soul to the Devil, who turns out to be none other than-- hi diddly ho!--Ned Flanders. Like the best "Simpsons," this is filled with tiny details and moments that are utterly hilarious... like Blackbeard the Pirate objecting to the high chair Marge gives him when he serves on Homer's "Jury of the Damned": "Aye! This chair be high, says I!" Meanwhile, "Terror" spoofs another classic "Twilight Zone" ep, with Bart subbing for William Shatner as the passenger (on a schoolbus, natch) who sees a gremlin no one else does. In "Dracula," the crew takes on Francis Ford Coppola's stylized adaptation in typically irreverent fashion (Homer to Bart: "His hairdo looks so queer"). It all ends with a musical homage to-- apropos of nothing-- "A Charlie Brown Christmas."
"The Shinning"/"Time and Punishment"/"Nightmare Cafeteria"(1994)--This entire episode is brilliant, from the pitch perfect "Shining" spoof to Homer's misbegotten romp through time (which keeps changing the future) and the grisly "Cafeteria," in which the staff of Springfield Elementary casually embrace cannibalism. Though funny, the second two segments contain some of the most disturbing material I've ever seen on network television, including lobotomies, the bloodthirsty teachers, and a sick finale in which the whole family's skin turns inside out... and they break into song.
"The Thing and I"/"Citizen Kang"(1996)--In an inventively disturbing segment, Bart and Lisa discover they have another sibling... Bart's "evil" former siamese twin, Hugo, who's been living in the attic and subsisting on a diet of fish heads. The bizarre tale is highlighted by a slew of priceless one-liners, like "A routine soul smear confirmed the presence of pure evil." "Kang" gives starring roles to the aliens, who take on the identities of Bill Clinton and Bob Dole before the '96 election. It's a testament to the show's brilliance that this political lark feels fresh and funny rather than dated.
"It's the Grand Pumpkin, Milhouse" (2008)--While later Treehouse of Horror entries have been a letdown, I have to mention this inspired send-up of the ultimate Halloween special, "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Everything about "Peanuts," from the dancing to the nonsense talking grownups, is spoofed, while in this version, of course, the "Grand Pumpkin" actually shows up... and he's pissed!

Old Nightmares

So when was my last post, 1982? Well, this being October, I am getting into the Halloween spirit and thought it'd be fun to do a rundown of some of my favorite seasonal movies, TV, etc. I'll start with Wes Craven's New Nightmare, the end credits of which are unspooling as I type this. It's not a Halloween movie per se, but I'll always associate it with the holiday because a.) it was released in October and b.) I bought the *novelization* at Spag's, the awesomely kitschy Worcester department store, on one of my family's annual "fall rides." See every year we'd take a daytrip to see the fall foliage (my dad goes nuts for that, as well he should) and wind up at the Halloween Outlet, an amazing store packed to the gills with costumes, props, and just about anything else a horror-obsessed kid like me could want. (They used to display those giant animatronic props, like the crazy electric chair that would go off every ten minutes or so, stopping everyone in dead silence while the dummy writhed in mock agony and smoke plumed outward. Rock on.) On one of these rides, circa 1994, we stopped by Spag's and I picked up the New Nightmare paperback. I was psyched about the movie, though we ironically didn't get around to it until the video release. (Lest you think my parents wouldn't let me see an R-rated horror flick in theaters, I was corrupted at a pretty young age by my dad, who showed me the likes of "Halloween" and "Evil Dead 2" when I was, I dunno, 9? "New Nightmare" is something we totally would've seen at an after school matinee. Why we didn't is a mystery.) It was a typical novelization, I guess, but I liked the meta movie-within-a-movie storyline and the cheesy interludes supposedly detailing the author's own close encounters with Freddy. Plus there were 8 pages of rad black and white photos. So before long I'd read and re-read it umpteen times and was running around pretending I was Heather Langenkamp, wearing her hot skirt and blazer combo and making important Hollywood phone calls on my remote control, er, cell phone. (And yet my parents *never suspected* I was gay? Talk about mysteries.) So when I finally saw the sucker, I already knew everything that was going to happen but loved it anyway. There's so much cheese in New Nightmare-- Langenkamp's melodramatic performance, the stereotypical villainous doctor out to prove that horror movies ruin young minds, dialogue like "Everything is NOT FINE!" to name a few. There are numerous gaps in logic, like the relentlessly unprofessional staff at the hospital (prone to stage whispering and grimly pantomiming about a patient whose mother is IN THE ROOM). But damnit if it doesn't work like gangbusters. The premise was so different at the time-- sort of "The Player" meets "Nightmare on Elm Street," with Freddy spilling out into the lives of the movies' cast and crew (Wes Craven even plays himself near the end)-- and there was some awesomely over-the-top imagery, starting with a cooly redesigned Krueger. For the first time in a "Nightmare" movie, an actual kid was a central character (Heather's on-screen son Dylan, played by Miko Hughes of "Pet Sematary" fame), which allowed for all sorts of connections with Grimm's Fairy Tales and parental fears of death and screwing up your kid. It's just a fun, fast-paced, visually striking movie (the freeway sequence is a stunner), and I still watch it about once a year. "Nightmare 1" is the original, and "Dream Warriors" is probably the best (major soft spot for that one, too), but "New Nightmare" will always be my sentimental favorite.

Every Dark Cloud...

I often find that even the worst movies have some redeeming factor. Sometimes, it’s the thing we cling to so we don’t feel quite so bad about wasting two hours of our life watching a turkey; other times, these saving graces are so fantastic that watching said turkey is actually kinda worth it. Perhaps inspired by the new film Valentine’s Day—which has a funny Taylor Swift, copious hunks, and little else to recommend it—and definitely inspired by re-reading The Book of Lists: Horror, I hereby present…
10 Great Things in Otherwise Terrible Movies
1. Uma Thurman in Batman & Robin (1997)—Joel Schumacher’s fourth Caped Crusader was so dumb, loud, and grating that it all but buried the franchise until 2005’s Batman Begins arrived nearly ten years later. The sole bright spot was Thurman’s hilarious and inspired turn as villainess Poison Ivy, who truly stole the show with her transformation from amusingly dorky botanist Pamela Isley to the green cat-suited temptress.
2. Jamie Lee Curtis’s death scene in Halloween: Resurrection (2002)—1998’s Halloween: H20 was a surprisingly heartfelt and clever sequel, but the next entry was just as awful (if not more so) than the rest. Added to a beyond contrived “explanation” for Michael Myers’ non-death were annoying teens, Tyra Banks, and a Kung Fu-fighting Busta Rhymes (?!). Curtis was contractually obligated to appear, and it’s her opening scene alone that makes this worth watching. Michael finally kills his beleaguered sister, but not before she plants a kiss on his lips and intones “I’ll see you in Hell!” It’s a great last line, and proved that Laurie had the smarts to exit with grace, unlike the rest of this crappy movie.
3. Every song in Xanadu (1980)—Why did one of Hollywood’s most notorious bombs still manage to gain a cult following? Apart from its oodles of kitsch, Xanadu had one great strength: its music. The fantastic songs by Electric Orchestra, Olivia Newton John, et al are what make the interminably bad writing and wooden acting worth suffering through. Thank Zeus someone had the presence of mind to graft these stellar songs onto a cheeky and clever Broadway script, giving this career-killing oddity a new lease on life.
4. Ryan Reynolds’ body in Van Wilder (2002)—Sometimes it’s a profound performance or artful sequence that makes a bad movie less awful. Other times it’s something less sublime. Ryan Reynolds’s hot, impossibly chiseled physique is the only reason anyone ever wasted their time on this dreadful college “comedy.” Lucky for us its star was as talented and charming as his bod was smokin’.
5. The musical sequence in Not Another Teen Movie (2001)—Brainless teen flicks were ripe for the plucking in 2001, but this spoof was every bit as uninspired as the easy targets it was mocking. All except for one bravura scene in which every character sings their heart out in advance of the prom. It’s clever, hilarious, and creative—everything the rest of the movie wasn’t.
6. The decapitation scene in Midnight Meat Train (2008)—This Bradley Cooper horror flick (adapted from Clive Barker’s story) was barely released to theaters, and it isn’t hard to see why. Slick, slow moving, and repulsive, it was unlikely to find a large audience beyond hardcore gore hounds or perhaps those curious about the state of Brooke Shields’ “career.” One moment is pure brilliance, though: the titular fiend lops off a woman’s head, and the camera acts as her POV—as she flies through the air and sees her own dismembered body. It was the only rewind-worthy bit in an otherwise forgettable flick.
7. The closing credits in The X Files: I Want to Believe (2008)—Faithful fans of Chris Carter’s groundbreaking genre series waited five years for this wholly unremarkable, borderline offensive piece of drivel that was worse than the lamest TV episodes. Ironically, only those who sat through the credits saw anything remotely enjoyable: our heroes, Mulder and Scully, waving goodbye from a paradise-bound sailboat to the cool strains of UNKLE’s “Broken.” Unfortunately, this coda all but defined “too little, too late” for frustrated X-Philes.
8. The costumes in Psycho (1998)—There was no good reason to remake Hitchcock’s classic thriller shot for shot—and plenty of reasons not to. (I’d put Anne Heche’s desecration of Janet Leigh’s character near the top of that list.) At least we were treated to costumes more startlingly original than almost anything else onscreen at the time. From Norman’s vibrant print shirts to Marion’s shower curtain patterned buttons, it was a feast of funky, fabulous frocks. Too bad the “Emperor” in this case wasn’t really wearing clothes at all.
9. Lindsay Lohan’s stripping scene in I Know Who Killed Me (2007)—This ridiculous Lohan “thriller” acted as the red-haired starlet’s Xanadu, effectively killing a once-promising career (along with endless tabloid stories and drink-and-drug fueled antics). The loony tale of “stigmatic twins” entangled with a serial killer is so ineptly made it crosses the line from awful to so-bad-it’s-good. But one sequence is so artful it feels like it came from another director and movie entirely: Lohan’s highly sensual, meticulously lit and photographed strip tease, set to Out Hud’s groovy “How Long.” Maybe if the film had spent more time on the strip club and less on rotting fingers (!) it would’ve turned a profit—and kept L.Lo from fading into gossip column oblivion.
10. Kevin Spacey and Parker Posey in Superman Returns (2006)—For a movie with so much promise, Bryan Singer’s reboot of the Man of Steel was dishearteningly lousy. The half-baked storyline (some nonsense involving a Kryptonite-made rock planet overtaking Earth and Supes’ potential love child) and terrible leads (pretty but bland Brandon Routh and pretty but bland Kate Bosworth, whose groaner “I forgot how warm you are” belongs in the Bad Movie Line Hall of Fame) sank this polished looking but feeble attempt to relaunch its eponymous hero. Relief from this self-important hooey arrives in the form of Spacey as Lex Luthor and Parker Posey as his fag hag—er, “girlfriend” Kitty Kowalski. Posey, who performed similar scene stealing in the lackluster Scream 3, is hysterical in every scene she’s in, while Spacey hits just the right balance of wit and menace. It’s casting so good, it makes you long for a movie that deserves it.
Well, those are mine: how about you guys? Remember anything awesome from movies that otherwise sucked?

Soundtrack Available

I'm obsessed with soundtracks. By my estimate I have between 1 and 200, encompassing everything from Mean Girls to The Devil's Rejects. (I'm nothing if not eclectic.) I love movies and pop culture, and for me soundtracks are a natural extension of that love-- the songs help me remember great movies, or in some cases far surpass them. (Van Wilder: terrible movie. Pretty awesome soundtrack.) They've also introduced me, over the years, to some fantastic new artists, including numerous rock classics. (Thank you, Running With Scissors, for "Year of the Cat" by Al Stewart. I truly needed that song in my life.) What follows is my personal picks for my ten favorite soundtracks, in no particular order. I don't know that they're the best ever, but they're the tops in my collection. For the purposes of this list, I excluded scores and musicals (perhaps I'll get to those in another post.) Alright, here goes...
Dick (1999)/Running With Scissors (2006): I've always had a soft spot for '70s music, and these two albums represent a wide variety of its best and brightest tunes. Dick is pure pop fun from start to finish, with hits by the likes of Elton John, the Jackson 5 and Labelle. (Sixpence None the Richer-- remember them?-- also contribute a cute cover of "Dancing Queen.") It's just as enjoyable as the movie itself. The moodier side of the '70s emerges in the soundtrack to "Running With Scissors," based on Augusten Burroughs' twisted memoir. Director Ryan Murphy imagined the book as a day-glo fantasia, loaded with kitsch and-- as one critic put it-- "the best '70s pop money can buy." There's Elton John again, along with Phoebe Snow (the sublime "Poetry Man"), Manfred Mann's Earth Band ("Blinded By the Light"), and Crosby, Stills & Nash ("Teach Your Children"). The eclectic selection reflects the movie's dark sense of humor, and also includes such oddities as Vince Guaraldi's "O Tannenbaum" (from "A Charlie Brown Christmas") and Nat King Cole. As for the one contemporary song, Catherine Feeney's "Mr. Blue"? Utterly heartbreaking.
Philadelphia (1993): Jonathan Demme's seminal AIDS drama spawned a great soundtrack, which boasted not one but two Oscar nominated songs: Bruce Springsteen's "Streets of Philadelphia" and Neil Young's "Philadelphia." The Boss took the prize-- "Streets" rates among his greatest-- but Young's mournful ballad is equally affecting. Peter Gabriel also scored a memorable entry with the darkly romantic "Love Town."
I Am Sam (2001): The producers of the Sean Penn tear jerker-- centered on a mentally challenged man obsessed with the Beatles-- avoided astronomical royalties by recruiting a who's who of talent to re-record Beatles hits. The album features a few covers not included in the film; among the best are Ben Harper's "Strawberry Fields Forever," Rufus Wainwright's "Across the Universe," and Nick Cave's wonderfully moving "Let It Be." This ultimate tribute album transcended the movie and became a phenomenon unto itself.
Cruel Intentions (1999): The late '90s resulted in a slew of alt rock grab bags tied in with teen-centric movies; I have quite a few myself, including the "Scream"s, "Jawbreaker," "I Know What You Did Last Summer," and "Go." But this album, from the guilty pleasure starring Ryan Phillipe, Sarah Michelle Gellar, and a young Reese Witherspoon, was the best one of all. There's not a weak link in the mix: from Placebo's sneering "Every You Every Me" to Aimee Mann's "You Could Make a Killing" to Counting Crows' lovely "Colorblind," it's an amazing assortment of alternative music.
Magnolia (1999)/House of 1000 Corpses (2003): Two very different movies that had one thing in common: both had soundtracks provided almost entirely by one artist. Magnolia was actually built around Aimee Mann's songs: director P.T. Anderson was so inspired by her that he decided to write a movie inspired by her music. The sublime collection includes the Oscar and Grammy nominated "Save Me" as well as "Wise Up" (memorably sung onscreen by all of the principle characters) and a world-weary cover of Three Dog Night's "One." My favorite non-Mann song on the CD is Gabrielle's "Dreams," a thoroughly enjoyable pop tune. Meanwhile, Rob Zombie contributed six songs to his directorial debut, the in-your-face horror odyssey House of 1000 Corpses. The title track and "Pussy Liquor" are both outstanding, but the undisputed highlight is Zombie's driving cover of "Brick House" featuring Lionel Ritchie and Trina. I must've rocked out to that one about 1000 times during my sophomore year of college. There's also a Ramone's jam and a cute Buck Owens song called "Who's Gonna Mow Your Grass?" After this film Zombie stopped using his own music onscreen and turned instead to compiling quirky mixes leaning heavily on 1970s fare. I debate whether to include this album or his memorable soundtracks for The Devil's Rejects (House's sequel) or Halloween (2007). Ultimately though, his hellbilly rock collection won out.
Death Proof (2007): Another auteur known for his distinctive musical choices, Quentin Tarantino was true to form with his soundtrack for Death Proof, his half of the underrated B-movie homage Grindhouse. What makes this CD so fun is that it mixes little known rock songs (most of which are played on a jukebox onscreen) with action and suspense score pieces by the likes of Pino Donnagio and Ennio Morrocone. (In true Tarantino fashion, the entire score was made up of bits from earlier movies.) Some of QT's better finds include the wonderfully weird story song "Staggolee" by Pacific Gas & Electric and "Hold Tight" by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich (the latter track featuring prominently in a gory set piece). The piece de resistance is April March's kitschy "Chick Habit," which ties in perfectly with the girls kick ass message of the movie-- and of much of Tarantino's ouvre.
Brokeback Mountain (2005): The soundtrack to Ang Lee's acclaimed gay love story is the most beautiful album on this list. Gustavo Santaolalla's Oscar winning score anchors the collection; it's utterly gorgeous. The movie's middle American milieu is reflected in many of the artists involved: Willie Nelson, Emmylou Harris, and lesser-known chanteuse Mary McBride all contribute tracks. There are also haunting selections by Rufus Wainwright and the under-appreciated Teddy Thompson.
Cloverfield (2008): This is one of the more unique soundtracks on here for a number of reasons. For one, the movie itself is largely without music, save for the opening party scene that precipitates a giant monster's attack on New York. Secondly, it was released as a "mixtape" on iTunes. But what a mixtape. Cloverfield's music supervisors put together a vast array of some of the best up and coming artists in the indie music scene; for instance Kings of Leon, who perform "Taper Jean Girl" and "Pistol of Fire," exploded shortly after the film's release. I enjoyed the whole compilation-- save for Parliament's "Tear the Roof Off the Sucker," which I honestly could've lived without-- but my faves included Coconut Records' pretty "West Coast," Spoon's "The Underdog," and Moby's pulse-pounding "Disco Lies." Cloverfield's one score selection has also emerged on iTunes: "Roar! (Cloverfield Overture)," by Michael Giacchino.

2009's Horror Renaissance

People like to say that horror is dead, but I've always found that pessimistic. I think there have been plenty of good horror movies over the last decade or so; HorrorHound, my new favorite magazine, even has a cover story this month listing their 20 Best Horror Movies of the Past 10 Years, with standouts like The Descent, 28 Days Later, and Grindhouse among them. This year, in my opinion, has been particularly good, with several very entertaining and original entries. Prompted by the much-ballyhooed Paranormal Activity, I decided to compile reviews for my favorite fright flicks of the year. And heck, it isn't even over yet-- Daybreakers, a sci-fi vampire hybrid with Ethan Hawke and the amazing Sam Neill, opens soon, too!
Drag Me to Hell--It all started, for me at least, with this Sam Raimi mini-masterpiece. After years spent on the big budget Spiderman franchise, the Evil Dead auteur got back to his down and dirty horror roots with a wickedly entertaining scarefest. Alison Lohman stars as a hapless loan officer whose bid to impress her boss backfires-- reeeeally backfires-- when she denies a repulsive gypsy hag an extension on her mortgage. Poor Lohman winds up cursed and tormented by demons who want to-- well, the title says it all. What follows is a cavalcade of scares, laughs, and gross out gags that quite simply never lets up. The fun that Raimi and his cohorts were having is palpable, as they pull out all the stops to deliver a gonzo thrill ride.+
Orphan--After Raimi's demons, I figured nothing could be as rollicking a good time. Surprisingly, this creepy kid shocker comes pretty darn close. Although it's the umpteenth variation on the Bad Seed formula, Orphan distinguishes itself with a peculiar blend of realism and off the wall camp. As sinister Esther engages in increasingly vicious activities, the movie pushes far, *far* beyond the bounds of its predecessors. Strong performances by the entire cast help elevate this from pure trash into something gaudy and over-the-top yet effective and deeply disturbing.
Grace--Released to theaters in a very limited capacity, Grace is a small independent film with a truly creepy concept. A pregnant woman (Jordan Ladd) decides to bring her stillborn baby to term, than inexplicably wills it back to life. But baby Grace has special needs, which can only be met if her mother is willing to do unthinkable things. What could have been tasteless becomes haunting and even moving, with a dense script and an array of subplots that ground this fantastic premise in a very real and tortured world. Special mention goes to the music, by composer Austin Wintory (also responsible for the moody score of my best friend's debut feature Print.)
Trick 'R Treat--This long delayed Halloween-themed horror flick was well, well worth the wait. The fantastically fun movie pays homage to Tales From the Crypt and Creepshow with its interconnected stories involving a serial killer, ghost children, a werewolf, and the demonic spirit of Halloween itself, all converging on a small midwestern town on October 31st. I really can't praise this movie enough. Great cast (including character vet Dylan Baker, Anna Paquin, and Brian Cox). Mesmerizing production design. Loads of scares. And good old fashioned powerful storytelling, with sublime surprises around every corner. Pure horror bliss.
Paranormal Activity--And cementing 2009 as one of the best years for horror in recent memory? This out of nowhere screamer, famously shot for $11,000-- in the director's house!-- and now on track to earn $100 million. With all the hype, a backlash seems imminent, but all Hollywood talk aside... it's a good movie. And it's fucking scary. Suspense and mood are key as Paranormal presents, in docudrama fashion, the saga of a young couple terrorized by an unearthly presence in their home-- one that's followed Katie, the girl, since she was a young child. The simple premise and minimal resources available are more than enough, in the filmmaker's capable hands, to scare the bejeezus out of us. The sound design and eerie nighttime camera shots disturb on a profound level. And the idea that Katie can't escape her demon by simply leaving the house-- that it will follow her wherever she goes-- ensure that the film has an overwhelming sense of dread and mounting terror. By the finale I was literally on the edge of my seat-- but oh so glad that I can still find outstanding scares at the movies.

Crossing boundaries

I've been thinking about writing this post for a while (or any post, for that matter-- I haven't updated in general, mainly because I now have a "real" job as a preschool teacher as opposed to a mindless desk job where blogging keeps me from clawing my own eyes out in front of the computer for eight hours a day). I was revisiting "Tales of the City" recently-- the books and the miniseries-- and thinking about how the friendship between gay Michael and straight Brian resonates with my own life. When Armistead Maupin first released his episodic saga, it was seen as revolutionary in the way it both presented gay sexuality matter-of-factly and casually intertwined the lives of gay and straight characters. Of course, in a post "Will & Grace" world the idea of straight women befriending gay men is hardly a novel one; in fact, it's become cliche. But straight men and gay friend as friends might still be thought of as unusual or taboo. Of course, the ever progressing gay civil rights movement has brought about circumstances that would have seemed unthinkable ten or twenty years ago: gay straight alliances in high school, gay marriage in various states. But the concept of a heterosexual male having a close personal relationship cuts to the core of why gay sexuality has supposedly taken so long to be accepted into the mainstream. Men are more aggressively socialized and gender-normalized than women, and gayness was long seen as a threat to accepted social order, both because it challenged heterosexism and threatened to rip the lid off the homoeroticism that has long existed in society, from fraternities to the military and everywhere in between. Sure, maybe two particularly sensitive straight men could profess to love each other (i.e. the drunken "I love you, man" speech). But how could a straight man knowingly express affection for a gay man without threatening his own sexuality? In my experience, though, this boundary has been crossed and recrossed by my straight male friends with ease. Sure, my friendships with gay men are important, as are those I enjoy with straight women. (My best friend is female.) But I believe that my friendships with men in general are crucial, regardless of orientation. Truth be told, I've had positive and life affirming relationships with straight guys since high school. My first crush was a good friend, a high school athlete who not only accepted and appreciated me-- sexual orientation and all-- but who, I think, secretly enjoyed my fairly obvious attraction to him. (In today's world, any guy at ease with himself is surely flattered by attention, male or female, especially considering that-- as one guy put it-- "you guys are so fucking picky.") Another friend of mine is not only sensitive and compassionate but once joked that he'd plant a kiss on me if he ever saw a particular ex-girlfriend while we were out together! The most recent example of this for me is with my friend Ben, a former coworker. We bonded early on over our mutual love of horror films and have been to see several over the last couple years. While Ben isn't nearly as open as I am about his personal life, he has always listened respectfully to any number of my own problems and provided sympathy and support. The kicker came a couple months ago, when he left a voice mail on my phone. "I love you," he said at the end, seemingly without a second thought. It didn't matter that I was gay. It did matter that he cared about me, and I him. In 2009, men of every kind are finding that labels and differences aren't nearly so important as compassion and respect.

"Drag Me to Hell"=Horror Movie Heaven

Over the weekend my friends and I caught a screening of "Drag Me to Hell," Sam Raimi's new horror film. Raimi's earned mainstream cred with "A Simple Plan" and the "Spider-man" trilogy, but fans remember him as the guy who created "Evil Dead" and its gruesome, gonzo sequels. His return to the horror fold here doesn't disappoint. "Drag Me to Hell" is one of the most entertaining and relentless scare films in years; its grand Guignol histrionics are accompanied by a wicked sense of humor. The movie centers on Christine Brown (Alison Lohman), a bright, earnest loan officer angling for a promotion while also trying to win the affections of her boyfriend Clay (Justin Long)'s parents. When Mrs. Ganush, an old gypsy woman (Lorna Raver, perfectly cast) asks the bank for a third extension on her mortgage, Christine wants to help her but sees an opportunity to show her boss (the ever reliable David Paymer) that she can "make the tough decisions." Ganush begs on her knees, then angrily hisses that Christine has "shamed" her, and that night attacks Christine in the parking garage in a gleefully extended tussle. It's so gross and outrageous that it's a shoe-in for Best Fight Scene in next year's MTV Movie Awards; amazingly, the film sustains this scene's momentum for the rest of its 99 minute run time. Ganush finally puts a curse on Christine, who then seeks the aid of psychic Rham Jas (Dileep Rao). Jas tells her that she will be tormented and eventually dragged to hell (natch) by the fearsome lamia demon, and over the next few days his prediction comes true. Christine experiences everything from geyser-like nose bleeds to visions of a cloven footed monstrosity, while Clay does his best to understand and support her. (To his credit, this character escapes the trap of being a skeptical dolt, although part of the movie's point seems to be that even his unwavering support isn't enough to protect Christine.) The clever script juxtaposes Christine's mundane, realistic insecurities-- being a former fat girl, fearing that Clay's folks think she's a farm-bred hick-- with the larger than life horrors of the curse. Truly, Christine is trying to avoid a Fate Worse Than Death: burning in hell for all eternity. Raimi makes this film a full frontal assault on the senses, reveling in grotesquerie while continually keeping the audience on its toes with visual gags, creepy sound FX, and whiz bang set pieces. (There's a seance that does its best to blow all of its cinematic forebears out of the water.) The film had me shrieking, laughing, and shouting at the screen, in the tradition of the best horror movies-- and in keeping with the insane, no-holds-barred sensibility of Raimi's first two "Evil Dead" films. "Drag Me to Hell" smashes taboos and takes no prisoners in its quest to freak you out. In so doing, it takes the viewer on a rip-roaring ride and provides bloody good entertainment. If only more horror films gave us this much bang for our buck.

Rest in peace, David Carradine

I was shocked to read this morning that legendary actor David Carradine had been found dead under mysterious circumstances (hung in a possible suicide) in a Thailand hotel room. He was 72. Carradine played the lead on the classic 1970s TV show "Kung Fu," as well as starring in hundreds of films and television episodes. My father was a big fan-- and in fact was watching DVDs of the show when he heard the news today. A whole new generation got to know the actor, myself included, when he starred as the title character in Quentin Tarantino's "Kill Bill" saga. While Carradine was nearly a cameo player in the first installment, Volume 2 found him fleshing out an incredibly complex, sympathetic, and layered character as he and former love the Bride (Uma Thurman) have a fateful final encounter. Carradine was an excellent actor and, by all accounts, a great man who will be missed.

Yet another reason to make fun of Twilight

Teenage girls everywhere screamed in unison last weekend when the MTV Movie Awards unveiled the trailer for "New Moon," the sequel to "Twilight." (Very apropos, considering that the first movie won so many golden popcorn buckets that you'd think they were being paid off by the studio-- or, more likely, sent multiple votes by the aforementioned teen girls.) The whole thing cracked me up-- it was the expected blend of overwrought melodrama and cheesy slow-mo action-- but perhaps the best bit of all was when hunky Jacob (Taylor Lautner) transformed into a werewolf. Now, we haven't seen a movie werewolf since Wes Craven's "Cursed"-- and by "we" I mean me and like, three other people who saw that. So what does "New Moon" give us? Um... see the first pic. Who's a cute little werewolf? You are, Jacob! Yes you are! (By the by, I totally stole that comment from Ashley.) I mean, really, despite the ferocious snarl, WereJacob looks extremely cuddly. Like he just jumped out of a Harry Potter sequel, or maybe is related to Bolt, or something. He reminded me a little of Dee Wallace-- spoooooiler!!!-- at the end of "The Howling," also seen above. ("The Howling" is an 80s horror movie which totally rocks, and is worth seeing even if I just spoiled you.) My dad loves that movie, but always had the same complaint: "the only thing I didn't like is that the end, she turns into a CUTE werewolf!" In fact, when I met Dee Wallace I was really tempted to tell her that- and should have! I bet she would have laughed. Anyway, the cutesy werewolf tradition continues with New Moon. Will there be a stuffed animal? Because I think I kinda want one. Mwah.

It's official

I love Rihanna. I really enjoy her music and am glad she ditched her abusive asshole boyfriend (and I don't blame her for what happened like some people). And now this-- she's rocking a Keith Haring jacket!

The better you look, the more you see

I just finished reading Glamorama, a Brett Easton Ellis novel I'd been meaning to get to for sometime. (I picked up a used copy at a store Jacob took us to for the express purpose of buying Moxie, an odd regional soda that tastes like medicine. But I digress.) This is the fifth Ellis book I've read, having become a fan through the movie versions of American Psycho and The Rules of Attraction and gone on to read his uniquely satirical and deceptively superficial writing. (It's hard to complain about flat, vapid characters, for instance, when that is clearly the author's intent.) This one shares many of the hallmarks of the author's work: cold, aimless characters, excessive pop culture references and name dropping, gruesomely explicit violence, and narrative ambiguity. It still stands out as a unique and singular achievement, though, as a book that serves as both cultural commentary and hallucinogenic fever dream. Glamorama centers on Victor Ward, an uber-cool male model first introduced in Rules of Attraction, who we here meet in mid 1990s New York City. Like many Ellis men, he's actually kind of a douche: status obsessed to a fault, he treats almost everyone in his life poorly, from girlfriend Chloe to mistress Allison to business partner Damien. But Victor remains strangely sympathetic, maybe because he's less knowing player than lost puppy dog. The first chunk of the novel firmly establishes Victor's high rolling life: endless parties, magazine stories, preparations for the opening of a new club. (A full two pages consist of Victor approving or dismissing potential guests of varying degrees of celebrity.) The irony quickly creeps in as we realize that Victor is, among other things, fairly broke-- while he motorcycles around Manhattan in designer clothes, he can't even afford CDs at the Virgin Megastore. When opening night finally arrives, Victor's personal life basically implodes, and he seeks escape just when a mysterious man named Palakon has engaged him for an unusual mission: to find ex girlfriend Jamie Fields and bring her back from London. (It's clear that Palakon has hidden motives, but naive Victor is oblivious and thinks she's simply needed for a movie shoot.) Once he boards a ship bound for England, things take an increasingly bizarre turn. Ellis introduces the idea that a film crew is following Victor's every move, that this is all a scripted movie, although we're never sure if this is "real" or a figment of Victor's imagination. An attractive girl catches his fancy, then abruptly disappears. When he finds Jamie, she welcomes him into her seemingly idyllic social circle: good looking, successful model types-- including Victor's idol Bobby Hughes-- who mirror the elite types he's become estranged from back in New York. But all is not what it seems, and Jamie and her pals emerge as terrorists capable of acts of horrifying torture and depravity, especially Bobby. Victor gets caught up in bombings, framings, and a complicated involvement with both Jamie and Bobby. Victor professes to be straight but winds up in a bisexual threesome with both characters, a sex scene so relentlessly pornographic that it seems like it was meant to come off as gratuitous sleaze. Palakon continues to confuse Victor with mixed messages, and the protagonist finds himself doubting the motives of everyone around him as well as his own sanity. As at least one critic has noted, Glamorama reads less like a "novel"-- certainly not in the traditional sense-- than as a meditation on themes and styles, with the narrative switching between first, second, and third person narration, and employing the conventions of Hollywood filmmaking (up to and including "soundtrack" songs). Ellis sprawling book encompasses everything from our obsession with youth, beauty, and fame (which seemed to reach a new zenith in the 90s) to fears about terrorism and random violence. "We'll slide down the surface of things," Victor repeats again and again, before he begins to see what lies beneath that "glittering" surface. "The better you look, the more you see" is Victor's catch phrase, and what seems at first like an empty platitude emerges as a thesis for the book. The deeper Victor gets into the world of models and parties, the more he realizes that its one of sinister secrets-- where beautiful bodies can be tortured, hacked, and blown apart, and where powerful forces can manipulate and control your every move. It's a relentlessly bleak view of modern culture that has the ring of bitter truth.

Just 'cause

I just adore Sia. She has the most gorgeous voice and the couple of times I've met her she's just been an absolute doll-- she even talked to my mom on the phone once following a concert. A lot of you may know her single "Breathe Me" which featured prominently in the Six Feet Under season finale; she's also done some really beautiful music with Zero 7.

It's all led up to this

Does anyone else feel gypped re: the amount of Georgina we got this season? I feel like her appearances in the last few episodes amounted to glorified cameos; I at least expected more of her in the finale! But despite the dearth of Georgina, the producers still delivered a pretty satisfying finale-- it even paid off loose ends I'd been waiting to come back for months.
The episode begins with the gang graduating from Constance/St. Jude's, which is amusing considering none of them seem to spend any time in class. (Unless, of course, they're taking lessons from a clueless Ohio teacher who likes to hook up with her students.) Blair and Chuck have an awkward pre-grad moment,with her almost-- but not quite-- telling him that she and Nate are dunzo. He doesn't tell her anything, either, even though she knows he told Serena he really does love her. (And really, if he was hiding his feelings, was Blair's BFF really the best person to share with? Right, like *she's* not gonna say anything.) Blair also has a run-in with the three mean girls, who tell Jenny she has a shot at becoming the new "Queen" of the school. Kind of an about-face, huh? One minute she's persona non grata with these bitches, the next they offer her a crown. (I guess they're all just followers incapable of leading.) Jenny insists she's not interested, having hoped the hierarchy would die out with Blair, and Blair walks by just in time to declare that she alone can pick the next queen. The second she leaves, though, the girls tell Jenny they could care less what Blair thinks anymore. In any case, Blair seems glad to leave all the "high school" drama behind, including the girls, Nate, and Chuck, while Serena says she's just glad to be going off Gossip Girl's radar. (Yep, the actual Gossip Girl was discussed quite a bit in this episode.) But she spoke too soon: Gossip Girl email blasts everyone during the ceremony, and naturally they all receive it on their cell phones at once. (Seriously, do these kids ever silence their phones? I'd hate to be at a funeral where the granddaughter's fucking text notification goes off during the eulogy, which is probably what happens with these kids. "Sorry Grandma, but Lonely Boy was just spotted at Dylan's Candy Bar!") Even for Gossip Girl it's a pithy post, essentially just a series of insults aimed at the principle characters. Nate's a "whore" (a reference to the duchess storyline which was the last time Nate did anything interesting), Dan's "the ultimate insider," Chuck's "a coward," Blair's "a weakling," and finally, Serena is "now officially irrelevant."
None of the staff or parents can understand why the kids aren't standing up at the closing. Serena decides she's declaring war on Gossip Girl, and at the incredibly boring post-grad reception, which doesn't seem to have nearly enough students to constitute a senior class in it (plus tons of random non-seniors like Eric and the mean girls), she sends GG a text, reasoning that the mysterious blogger "must be someone in this room." Jonathan's phone goes off-- gasp! (Right, like Eric's barely developed boyfriend would be the title character.) Turns out he's simply hacked into Gossip Girl's mainframe and has access to her inbox. Serena, Jenny, and Eric reason they can use this to somehow expose her, with Jenny laying eyes on some sort of big kahuna re: Blair. (P.S. the Mean Girls have told Jenny she gets to be Queen if she can produce juicy gossip... what a coinky-dink!) But at Nate's big grad party, this plan is foiled. Initially we see Nate talking to his grandpa about the duchess thing and how it could come out. "I had an affair with an older woman," he confesses. "Welcome to Washington," Grandpa replies. "She was married," Nate says. (Welcome to Washington.) "And she paid me." (Okay, Nate, WELCOME TO WASHINGTON!) Grandpa promises he'll protect Nate if need be. I just wish they'd bring the duchess and her incestuous step hunk back. They injected some nice drama into the series.
Meanwhile, Blair and Chuck share another spectacularly sexy scene, with her asking him how he feels about her "headband" (natch), her "stockings" ("I adore them" Bass coos), and finally, "me." "I..." Chuck begins, and that damn text alert predictably interrupts them. (Seriously kids, have you never heard of "vibrate"??) Then, Gossip Girl decides to drop a series of bombs about *everyone*, including one I'd been waiting for since the winter: Blair's liaison with Chuck's uncle. Busted! Blair blames Serena, who also comes under fire when GG exposes tidbits like Jenny's naked kinda-photo-shoot and Vanessa and Chuck's one night stand. Serena agrees that Dan really is an insider, having gotten into Yale, had a lame story published in The New Yorker, and generally insinuated himself into everything while still professing not to be "one of them." Blair angrily yells at Chuck for taking up with "the dregs of DUMBO." LOL. They eventually admit they're not really upset about the affairs, but they still seem to be at an impasse. Serena decides to try and rectify things by asking Gossip Girl to meet her at the Oak Room or else she'll "tell everyone who you are." (It's a bluff, of course.) But instead Serena is greeted by Dan, Blair (also thinking Gossip Girl's coming, Dan deadpans, "well THAT makes sense"), and finally all the other main characters. Gossip Girl texts them all: "You wanted to meet Gossip Girl, well, now you have. I'd be nothing without all of you. And surprise: I'm coming with you." (Meaning the updates will continue into college.) It was a little too precious and not at all surprising (I doubt they'd disclose her identity before the series finale, if ever), but whatever. Serena and Dan make up, promising to remain friends. Blair sees Chuck outside, staring soulfully. Meanwhile, Lily and Rufus have been partying it up with some pot she found in Chuck's room (?!). Rufus, whose issues with Lily have predictably lasted all of one episode, proposes to her and she says yes. (With an old tour bracelet as a ring, which is cute, I guess.)
Cut to a few weeks later, and a gotta-pack-it-all-in montage of scenes. Blair formally appoints Jenny as new Queen, and tells the girls they better obey because she now has damaging dirt on all of them. (I don't remember what it was or how she acquired it, but in any case Jenny now has a shot at interesting story lines again. Plus she actually looked cute in this episode, although Patrick was still troubled by the bangs.) Nate got hit on by the mayor so he's leaving the internship-- and joining Vanessa on that redonkulous "pirogi tour of Europe"! (Ugh, those two deserve each other.) Nearby, a new NYU student calls his parents while looking at newspaper clippings on Rufus and Lily-- yep, it's the love child, and not only will he be joining Dan at school, but he apparently knows who his real parents are. Georgina calls Dan and tells him she's gotten his money back from Poppy, though she doesn't say how. She hangs up and tells a woman at NYU that she wants to room with her "best friend Blair Waldorf." Does it really make sense for her to magically make that happen unbeknownst to Blair? Would kids this rich even live in dorms? Who cares-- the possibilities for drama with those two as roomies are endless. (Unfortunately Georgina won't become a series regular, as I hoped; NBC picked up a pilot with her starring for next season, although her contract allows for 3 GG episodes, according to the stalwarts at Entertainment Weekly. But some Georgina is better than none at all.) That skeezy Carter shows up out of nowhere with info on Serena's long lost dad, and she heads off in search of Papa Van Der Woodsen. (Guess they're setting up the story for next season. Maybe this is also their way of getting out of sending Serena away for school.) And last but certainly not least, Chuck greets Blair with a bushel of gifts. Turns out he jetted off to Europe only to procure her favorite chocolates, stockings, etc. And he finally-- FINALLY-- says, "I love you." I got a little verklempt, I'm not gonna lie. "Say it again," Blair breathes, and he does, and they kiss, and fans everywhere rejoice. Not a bad way to end the season, all in all.

Gossip Girl: They Love the 80s

It could have been a spectacular train wreck, but Gossip Girl's totally awesome 80s flashback-- the so-called "backdoor pilot" for the proposed young Lily spin-off-- was surprisingly decent. It might have launched a decent series, although the project has supposedly been scuttled already, but more importantly it worked better than expected when blended with the modern day storyline.
The episode starts off in New York circa 2009, with Serena still in the slammer and Blair amusingly remarking that "she's been in jail longer than Nicole Ritchie and Lindsay Lohan combined!" Meanwhile, Lily is headed there to bail her out, and begins reflecting on her youth in California circa 1983. Back then, she'd been expelled from school and calls her businessman father Rick (80s stalwart Andrew McCarthy) asking him to meet her for lunch. (Lily is played here by Brittany Snow, and while the LA scenes are blended cleverly with the modern day ones, I'll describe the entire flashback plot in its entirety here to avoid confusion.) She's shown at a payphone with the sign for Neptune's Net in the background-- a seafood restaurant I actually ate at with Ashely during a visit last fall! (It's delicious and total no-frills-dining-at-its-best.) We learn that Lily's been expelled from school, and is hoping to move in with her dad. But her steely mother, Cece (Cynthia Watros), has been called and what's more, both parents know of her predicament already. Her request to move in with Dad is predictably rebuffed. Snow does a decent enough job as the young Lily-- there's a passing resemblance, and she's relatively believable as a spunkier but still square-ish version of Serena's mom-- but Ritter really nails it as her steely mother. Her hard-edged portrayal is totally consistent with the modern day battle ax played by Caroline Lagerfelt, who also appears in this ep. Cece insists Lily accompany her home, but foolishly leaves in her own car, prompting Lily to drive off to LA instead in search of her wayward sister, Carol (Krysten Ritter). She heads to the diner where she works, and meets a bad-boy looking friend of hers named Owen (Shiloh Fernandez), who would clearly be her love interest if this got picked up for series. (I suppose it'd be kind of weird watching the show and knowing that whatever happens with these two, they won't last-- although I'd love to see Lily's alleged hookups with Trent Reznor and Slash!) Owen says his pal is dating Carol and that she'll be at a rock show if Lily wants to come.
Cut to Lily trying on some of her sister's outfits set to "Dancing with Myself," since Owen comments that her uber-preppie fatigues aren't going to cut it. Of course, this is what we really care about: the clothes and the music! They used some choice cuts like "Safety Dance" and "Blue Monday" throughout the episode, and the fashions were appropriately 80s-tacular while stopping just short of silliness. (It'd be interesting to see them parade around in vintage clothes week after week on a series, although I suspect the licensing budget for all those Time Life retro hits could get a little unwieldy.) The concert scene is appropriately raucous, with a down and dirty CBGB's feel and a much touted cameo by No Doubt as the fictional "Snowed Out." (They must have been up all night thinking of that witty moniker.) Carol is pleasantly surprised to see Lily ("are you wearing my dress?"), and the group piles into her beat up car to head to a party they're not invited to. (I don't remember why they go, but it's apparently required that all Josh Schwartz California pilots involve crashing a party and engaging in fisticuffs. Unfortunately, no one here cracks "Welcome to the LA, bitch!") Lily and Carol have some expository banter about what her life is like now, with an amusing reference to fanny packs (!) and Carol explaining that she is "making it" as she claimed-- "This is what making it looks like! When you just haven't... made it yet." She's a likable enough character and I could relate to her cautiously optimistic attitude about her life. The two actresses look nothing like each other, but they do have good sisterly chemistry. (Plus, the brunette and blonde combo evokes Blair and Serena.) At the party, they clash with nasty rich brat Keith van Der Woodsen, aka Serena and Eric's never-before-seen dad! Unfortunately, his appearance is brief but whets our appetite for details on how he and Lily ever got involved. (If the Lily show's truly dead, I'd love to see some more flashbacks on Gossip Girl next season.) Keith and his friends tell the party crashers to get lost with some particularly nasty insults. In a funny moment, Lily and Carol both demand, "What did you just say??" in unison. "No one talks to us like that!" Lily says defiantly, leading to the aforementioned fight. Next thing we know Lily's been arrested-- just like her daughter two decades later! Lily calls CeCe for help, and her mom-- shown working out to a Jane Fonda video-- is typically unsympathetic. But Carol shows up, grabs the phone, and informs their ice queen mother that Lily will be staying with *her* for the time being and voila! We have a spin-off premise.
The sisters exit the jail and Carol reveals she sold her car to pay bail. "What are we going to do, walk?" Lily asks. "Walking in LA? You've got a lot to learn," Carol cracks. (Patrick informs me that this is actually a reference to a pop song, although I thought it was funny in and of itself.) Carol puts on her sunglasses and declares, "we Rhodes travel in style." Next thing we know they're on a bus together holding hands, which is intercut with scenes of Serena and Blair bonding outside of their senior prom.
Yes-- back to 2009! Lily shows up at jail but Serena's already called CeCe to get her out (and hey, in light of the 80s storyline, that's, like, ironic!). Lily and CeCe have their zillionth parenting debate. Serena's bailed out just in time to go to the prom, with Dan whisking her away via cab, and even bringing her (typically gorgeous) dress along. Blair, meanwhile, is living her dream prom by attending with Nate in a fanciful fairytale gown. (Blair in the gown, not Nate. I quite liked it, and the media ate it up, with Entertainment Weekly declaring it "A+".) But those scheming bitches Nelly, Penelope, and, um, the other one (who've been MIA for a while) are up to no good, rigging the votes so that Nelly steals the prom queen crown from Blair. (What, were they all out of pig's blood?) Blair chastises Chuck when she catches him rifling through the votes, but he's ultimately redeemed when we learn-- of course-- that he was actually securing her victory. He also hands Serena the key to a hotel suite for the couple, because he wants her to have the perfect night. All together now: awwwwwww. But on the dance floor, Blair realizes that having lived her high school fantasy, she no longer needs her high school boyfriend, and explains this to Nate as they share a somber dance. We expected as much, since there has to be more B & C drama at season's end, but Gawwwwd I hope this doesn't mean Nate and Vanessa are going to rekindle their non-flame. (I saw a promo photo of the two of them in next week's finale-- argh!) Meanwhile, Lily apologizes to Rufus for her questionable decision making with Serena, and says she realizes he was going to propose. Rufus accepts her apology, but cautions that this doesn't mean they're back on... yet. (He'll probably be over it by next week. Or not. We're overdue for the return of the love child from Boston, aren't we?) Lily and CeCe share as tender a moment as they possibly can, with Lily forcing a hug on the old coot and CeCe seeming to thaw out enough to realize that her daughter really does love her. (As they embraced, I wanted CeCe to remark, "I can feel your baby kicking!") We close on Blair and Serena sharing their heart to heart, paralleled with Lily and Carol back in 83. Only one more episode left, and it looks like we'll have plenty of Georgina bitchery, Chuck/Blair drama, and Serena vowing to bring down Gossip Girl her (or him??) self. Can't wait!

Just because

I just happened to see this online shortly after writing the last post. You can click on it for a bigger version. Incidentally, I think Calvin and Hobbes is the most brilliant cartoon strip this side of Peanuts.

The Hauntingly Beautiful Films of James Whale

I just recently read A New World of Gods and Monsters, an outstanding and exhaustive biography of director James Whale written by James Curtis. Although the British Whale helmed a vast array of movies and plays in his career, he's best know for directing horror classics like Frankenstein, The Bride of Frankenstein, and The Old Dark House (which starred Gloria Stuart yeeeears before Titanic). The book inspired me to revisit the Frankenstein films last weekend for the first time in years.
I knew I loved The Bride of Frankenstein, which is a much jauntier and more comical effort than its predecessor, but I was equally impressed with the original this time. Stylishly directed and handsomely produced, it's a lush and supremely dark story that must have really freaked out audiences in 1931. (I still think it's creepy as all get out, immersed as it is in the world of cemeteries, alleyways, and cavernous laboratories.) The cast is uniformly excellent, with Colin Clive an appropriately brooding and obsessive Dr. Frankenstein, Mae Clarke as his bewildered and anxious bride Elizabeth, and Fred Kerr as an amusingly ornery Baron Frankenstein. Of course, Boris Karloff steals the show in a legendary role as the monster, and while his appearance, mannerisms, and guttural growls may be the stuff of parody now, he remains a startling presence onscreen. As Curtis notes in his book, Whales stages the creature's first entrance for maximum effect. The monster backs into the room, then slowly turns around as a succession of increasingly close shots (a trademark Whale flourish) reveal his ghoulish visage. Jack P. Pierce's iconic makeup frightened the public upon the movie's release; indeed, it frightened most of the cast and crew, and retains a powerful effect to this day. Watching the monster stalk in the background as an oblivious Elizabeth paces her room, I couldn't help remembering a thousand latter day slashers containing the same set-up. But here, nearly eighty years ago, was where it all began. Despite these ghastly details, Whale's success with the material stems from his deep empathy with Frankenstein's creation. According to Curtis, an associate who read the script revealed that he "felt sorry for the damned monster," and this comment unlocked the key to the material. The pitifully misunderstood creature does not set out to create havoc; even his most heinous act, the drowning of a young girl (a scene often targeted by censors) stems from his naive belief that she will float like the flowers they've been tossing in the water. Indeed, it is the vicious and ignorant reaction of the villagers and Frankenstein's own humpbacked assistant that dooms the monster to brutality and fiery destruction (or so we think).
Of course, the massive success of Frankenstein had Universal clamoring for a studio, but it was not until 1935 that Whale relented and gave them one. While Curtis revealed Whale's initial belief that he had nothing new to do with the story, the director ultimately hit on a stroke of inspiration within the original Mary Shelley novel. In the book, Frankenstein's creation begs for a companion to assuage his loneliness, but the would-be bride is destroyed before she can be revived. The fancifully titled Bride of Frankenstein would expand on this plot line to unforgettable effect. This time, the script was imbued with a heavy dose of gallows humor, and opens with a hokey and yet wholly appropriate prologue depicting Mary Shelley regaling her friends Percy Shelley and Lord Byron with the continuation of her ghoulish tale on a stormy night in Switzerland. (The three friends were famously recounting ghost stories when they hit on the idea to write some of their own, leading Mary to write her famous novel. I somehow doubt their banter was quite as polished and zippy as was depicted here, though.) The sequel's plot brings in another strikingly mad scientist, the comically sinister Dr. Pretorius (Ernest Thesiger in a wonderfully flamboyant performance). Una O'Connor steals most of the show, meanwhile, as the hilariously dramatic and screeching housekeeper Minnie. (That Minnie's terrified hysterics have the audience rolling in the aisles mere moments after the monster kills two people is a testament to both her comedic gifts and Whale's deft balance between humor and horror.) Frankenstein is tempted back into more forbidden experiments by Pretorius, who initially appeals to the doctor's still raging curiosity before resorting to kindapping to force his compliance. Meanwhile, the surviving monster escapes the ruins of the windmill where he and Frankenstein clashed in the original film, killing off the drowned girl's parents in the process. (I love the bit with him drowning the father while an owl looks on dispassionately, truly a clever and unsettling touch.) The monster wanders aimlessly until he encounters a blind hermit (a perfectly cast O.P. Heggie) who shows him kindness and teaches him how to speak and enjoy life's pleasures. Karloff was opposed to this development, according to Curtis, but Whale's instincts were correct. The creature is further humanized and fleshed out, expanding on the themes of the first film and showing the audience that the monster is to be sympathized more than feared. In fact, it is only the intrusion of violent villagers that shatters the new found peace and harmony between the creature and the hermit, leading to one of the most poignant images in all of cinema: Karloff stumbling out of the hut's burning ruins, wailing "Friend, friend!" Their relationship has been the subject of some critical speculation, especially in light of Whale's homosexuality. (My queer identity professor even showed us a clip from the film, emphasizing how tender and loving the characters' first meeting is.) The monster himself has struck some as a queer allegory, a misfit who is persecuted simply for being different. While Curtis balked at any such interpretations of the material, arguing that Whale's reserved manner would have precluded any overt manifestations of his sexuality, I can't help feeling there's something to these readings. After all, it's entirely possible that Whale expressed certain themes on an entirely subconscious level, and I'm reminded of that old adage: "Never trust the teller, trust the tale." Besides, the gay Thesiger's queeny Pretorius could singlehandedly elevate the film to a high level of camp. In any case, Bride concludes with another spectacular creation scene and the revelation of one of the strangest and most compelling creatures ever put on celluloid. In less than five minutes of screen time, Elsa Lanchester makes an indelible impression with her bird-like movements, hissing and screaming vocalizations, and utterly bizarre appearance. When she rejects the monster just as cruelly as everyone else, he decides to destroy them both, along with the nefarious Pretorius. (In a last minute editorial decision, the Doctor and Elizabeth are allowed to live, though sharp eyes viewers can apparently spot Frankenstein in a shot of the tower exploding.) Thus concludes an utterly spectacular and hugely entertaining one two punch from the man who would be, fairly or not, forever remembered as the Father of Frankenstein.

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