Tag Archives: horror

REVIEW: Sharknado (2013)

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Sharknado: C-

A CGI tornado full of CGI sharks hits LA in this perfect storm of B-movie shittiness.

Sharknado basically exists for you and your friends to converge in the living room, turn down the lights, and tear this movie a new asshole a la Mystery Science Theater 3000. It achieves this goal with a calculated, precise balance missing from most other movies designed to be fucking dumb.

One of the guys from 90210, Tara Reid, and the dad from Home Alone are trying to flee LA and the hungry Sharknado. The plot holes are astronomical, the CGI is cheap, and the acting is wretched, ON PURPOSE.

Numerous times, I caught myself marveling at the fact that this movie was allowed to exist. Like someone at SyFy said “Hey, how about we make a movie about a tornado filled with sharks and a blonde with huge breasts who launches missiles at the tornado filled with sharks and we make it so fucking bad ON PURPOSE that its intentional shittiness makes it all ok. And we’ll call it Sharknado.” And then they made the movie exactly like that.

A cocktail waitress operates a helicopter and the dad from Home Alone beats a CGI shark with a bar stool.

I couldn’t tell if it’s semi-ballsy genius or just another B-movie off the conveyor belt that, through some fluke, achieved some sort of flawless creature-feature awesomeness and inflated cult status. I fell for it though. In my opinion, Sharknado is the product of the realization that there are a lot of people who like to cleverly bash shitty movies and that these same people would enjoy a movie made for this purpose alone. The movie is meant to be mocked and SyFy did a great job of doing what they were trying to do.

In conclusion: this movie is fucking dumb.

REVIEW: Dracula 3D (2012)

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Dracula 3D: D+

This is a retelling of Bram Stoker’s classic with some added nudity, carnage, and a Dracula who looks about as threatening as an H&R Block employee.

The villagers who, in Stoker’s novel, were limited to being terrified background fixtures are more prominent in Argento’s retelling. They have secret meetings that reveal that they live in an uneasy alliance with Dracula. Dracula builds schools for them and loans them money with the understanding that he can eat anyone anytime he wants. As you might expect, some people aren’t really into this arrangement but insubordination is met with decapitation and/or a jugular extraction so for the most part, everyone plays ball.

There’s no England in this one. Harker, Mina, Lucy, Renfield, they all go to the Carpathian Mountains and get fucked with by Dracula, who looks like he’s modeling pea-coats for JC Penny. His hillbilly/gypsy/whatever accolades are an added threat. Van Helsing shows up, played by everyone’s favorite Dutch psychopath, Rudger Hauer. SIT THE FUCK DOWN, HUGH JACKMAN. He avoids a lot of attacks, wields crucifixes, and delivers his lines like a drunk Christopher Walken.

Harker gets turned into a vampire and there are a half dozen scenes where young actresses unburden their breasts from the oppression of constrictive corsets. One of these actresses is the director’s daughter, but you aren’t allowed to find that awkward because this is art!

The story loosely follows the original with the aforementioned alterations being the most significant. Dracula also showcases some new powers:

  1. The ability to turn into an owl
  2. The ability to turn into a swarm of house flies
  3. The ability to turn into a giant praying mantis
  4. The ability to teleport
  5. The ability to deliver telekinetic choke-slams
  6. The ability to look like an innocuous grocery store clerk

The special effects are cheap and include one of my pet peeves: CGI blood. The acting is mediocre and there aren’t any interesting twists on the story. All in all, this was a pointless, disappointing movie from Argento, whom, like I have said, I hate talking shit about. This is devoid of suspense or scares. You’re better off watching Bram Stoker’s Dracula if you want to see something interesting done with the original source material.

 

REVIEW: Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon (2006): B+

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Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon: B+

As if you needed more evidence that Scream is one of the most influential genre films ever, Behind the Mask is yet another example of meta-horror floating in Wes Craven’s wake.  Mask takes place in a world that not only acknowledges Freddy, Jason, and Michael, but treats their stories as if they were inspired by true events carried out by real killers.  However, instead of examining the horror movie tropes and rules from the victims’ perspective, a la Scream, it takes us…behind the fucking mask.  Duh.

Leslie Vernon is a mass murderer in training, but he’s also an affable guy who’s letting a broadcast journalist intern named Taylor (Macauley Culkin’s sister in Home Alone) and her two camera guys trail along as he prepares to massacre semi-innocent teens at a remote cabin.  The film crew looks on with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and trepidation as Leslie shows them how to select and stalk one’s “survivor girl,” do cardio to “make it look like you’re walking while everyone else is running their asses off,” and foil victims’ escape routes and defenses by blocking exits, cutting tree limbs, and sabotaging potential weapons.  Such is Leslie’s charm and humor that even though he’s describing terrible things, he’s exceedingly likable.

So is his mentor, played by Herschel from The Walking Dead.  The crew visits his house for a sausage cookout, but first they have to un-bury him from the backyard where he’s practicing the art of appearing to be dead.  He later regales them with tales of the truly great, enduring slashers and derides “one-hit wonders.”

Most of the movie is shot documentary-style until the turning point when the film crew decide to break the fourth wall and insert themselves into Leslie’s murderous scheme.  There’s a pretty sweet plot twist, a couple nice boobies, and a buttload of homages to horror flicks.  Robert Englund is an “Ahab,” the Dr. Loomis archetype (the dude from Halloween, not me) who knows Leslie’s past and is trying to foil his plans.  His character’s name is Doc Halloran, which almost assuredly has to be an allusion to The Shining, amiright?  There’s also an appearance by the “This house is clean” lady from Poltergeist (who knew that dwarf bitch was still alive?), and an awesome end-credits sequence that features Kane Hodder (Jason Voorhees) over the Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer.”

Good stuff.  But to be truly great, you’ve gotta have a sequel.  So get with it, Leslie.

REVIEW: Berberian Sound Studio (2012)

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Berberian Sound Studio: B

Witness Toby Jones assume the role of Gilderoy, a soft-spoken virtuoso of sound who is tormented in this grim psychological thriller in which he is hired to toil on a gory Argento-type Italian horror film, the very essence of which eludes your gaze for the entirety of the runtime. Yet despite never laying eyes on the frightening film-within-the-film, the anxiety and brutality that pervade the accursed sound studio alone are enough to rend the nerves asunder! It is this unique horror that caused me to lose my wits and inadvertently imbibe a double measure of the accursed medications prescribed by the court, which now course through my veins like a poisonous elixir. Alas! 

Gilderoy, a seemingly meek soul well-versed in the art of crafting idyllic nature films, ventures forth, unsuspectingly, under the belief that his talents shall grace yet another of these films: a cinematic equestrian escapade! So Dear Reader, you can quite easily imagine the torment that befalls him as he finds himself working on a most abominable film of Giallo carnage! With ease you envision his disgust as he squirts scalding water upon a skillet, striving to recreate the abominable act of an undead witch vaginally impaling her hapless victim upon a red-hot poker!

And this is only the beginning, Dear Reader. Women’s agonized screams are captured, vegetables mercilessly chopped and stabbed, all in service of the ceaseless demand for the symphony of gore that this movie so requires. And then, Dear Reader, like your humble Keeper hunched over my bloody parchment, he stoops over his console, devoting endless hours to the arduous task of blending these vile sounds with the haunting strains of synthesizers and pipe organ chords reminiscent of a bygone era. Unsurprisingly, his sanity and happiness crumble like the ruins of forgotten civilizations. This unholy parallel triggered another unfortunate lapse and I am afraid I have taken a triple dose of my legally mandated capsules… Verily, my oral cavity, bereft of moisture, doth suffer from an insatiable drought, whilst the echoing whispers that once plagued my tormented soul seem to have manifested themselves anew… And somehow amplified!

In stark contrast to his own mild-mannered gentility, Gilderoy finds himself surrounded by a crew of macho Italian ruffians, undeterred by a ten-hour day of chain-smoking, imbibing spirits, and subjecting the female voice talent to their lecherous advances. By degrees, through a combination of the aforementioned workplace toxicity and the antecedents for his hideous sound work, Gilderoy’s gentle nature succumbs. He soon obsessively devotes his talents to dubbing sound for increasingly wicked and depraved scenes, diverging ever farther from the serenity of his previous cinematic endeavors. Ah, dear reader, behold the dire consequences of this tragic calamity: I was driven to seek solace in the intoxicating embrace of Irish whiskey! Alas, I failed to recall the ingestion of a triple measure of my prescribed medications! Hark! Do you not hear the solemn tolling of church bells, Dear Reader? These bells, once mere figments of my deranged imagination, have now assumed corporeal form to ring the death knell of Gilderoy’s innocence! Be you damned if you doubt me now!

I… tire… but persist in this review… The film, a captivating thriller at its inception, swiftly devolves into a tar-pit of surrealism and nightmare logic reminiscent of the spells of the malevolent sorcerer David Lynch. I shall not unveil its secrets, but I implore you, dear reader, to hold tight to your sanity as you traverse the labyrinthine nightmare that unfolds in the final twenty minutes, a macabre dance of metaphor and terror intertwined.

Have you, perchance, borne witness to the bewildering conclusion of Twin Peaks? Pray, spare me your inquiries, for in comparison to this wretched film, the confounding events of that series assume potent coherence! Oh, the wretched bewilderment that beset me did impel me to partake in the inhaling of forbidden narcotic powders, Dear Reader! I confess! Is it a sin to seek respite from this maddening abyss?! And in this demented state, my tongue not quite my own, spewed forth the most venomous invective upon my innocent feline companion when the poor creature momentarily stepped in front of the television! 

One cannot deny the allure of this accursed film, for it ignites within the viewer a newfound appreciation for the arcane craft of sound engineering and the diabolical creativity that lurks behind the scenes of the silver screen. Oh, the wicked delight derived from immersing oneself in the auditory symphony wrought by Gilderoy! For it is in his torment, not the unholy cauterization of infernal vaginas, but his consuming and palpable revulsion and distress, do we manage to revel in the true horrors of this film. Exhaustion doth overwhelm me now Dear Reader, for this arduous review hath occupied me most feverishly for a span exceeding three days and nights. Perspiration cascades from my trembling brow and… what’s that?… Ah, a beckoning voice, doth resonate from the depths of the cavernous unknown, captivating my senses with an irresistible allure. Some dark compulsion compels me to heed its  call, plunging me deeper into the abyss…

REVIEW: I, Frankenstein (2014)

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I, Frankenstein: UV

I, Frankenstein. It, blows.

This integrity vacuum of a movie left me absolutely positive that no one involved in its making is ashamed of themselves, when they should all be at seppuku levels of shame at the least.

Listen to this pearl of a plot: Demons are among us and the only thing that keeps them in check is a centuries-old clandestine tribe of Gargoyles who live in this giant 100 story cathedral that NO ONE SEEMS TO FUCKING NOTICE in the middle of some ambiguous grey metropolis. This conflict is the cause of about forty atrocious CGI battle scenes in the movie. The CGI, Frankenstein bullshit is insulting; Cinefantastique likened it to “watching someone else play a bad videogame.”

The Gargoyles look like CGI Xbox characters when in Gargoyle-form but they can also morph into humans that all look like characters from Prince of Persia complete with gratuitous leather arm-bands and daggers. The Demons look like the Wishmaster in slim-fit suits. Watching them try to act is like watching a dog try to open a jar.

Also: the film takes place in a world where Frankenstein isn’t a famous book by Mary Shelly but instead, a spooky legend that some people, INCLUDING FUCKING SCIENTISTS believe to be true.

Frankenstein’s monster (who, yep, is called “Frankenstein” in the movie) is caught in the middle of everything. He is a badass maverick (with sexy abs) who gets his hands on some sacred weapons which he uses to fuck up hella Demons in several slow-motion CGI battles. I lost count of how many times two characters jump at each other in slow motion.

Let’s talk about Eckhart. Vulture’s review says he “plays Frankenstein’s monster in a monotonous, teeth-gritting mode, as if someone had one gun on him and another on his family.” Pretty hilarious/accurate. I personally don’t know how he kept a straight face while delivering lines like “Descend in pain, Demon” and “Take me to the Gargoyle Queen.” There is a scene where a Demon tries to possess Frankenstein and he’s levitating and screaming and all I could think of was how fucking DUMB Eckhart must have looked laying on a green block in a green room writhing around and how it reminded me of the best part of the worst movie I saw last year.

There is a strange fluctuation in the mortality of Frankenstein. In one scene, he is hanging on for dear life off of the edge of a window so he doesn’t fall three stories. But in another scene, he purposely jumps through a window from the fifth story of a building, plummets through a sewer grate, and lands on top of a moving train and he’s just swell. He also starts off at the beginning of the film with eyeliner and gnarly scars. As it becomes clear that he’s a good guy, the scars recede and the eyeliner lessons and he looks all handsome, more “humanized” to fit his good-guy role. This is a drop in an ocean of plot-holes and bullshit that makes zero sense.

Yes, there is a scene where he takes his shirt off and there are about a thousand scenes where he does kung-fu with stupid weapons.

If you imagine yourself liking a movie sort of like Underworld but worse, maybe see it.

I, hated it.

REVIEW: The Innkeepers (2011)

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The Innkeepers: C

It’s a haunted hotel movie, but The Shining it ain’t.  To its credit, it doesn’t try for cheap, “gotcha” scares; it tries to earn them with silence and atmosphere.  To its detriment, it’s not fucking scary.  At all.  It’s not a bad film by any stretch, but there’s just not enough going on here to recommend it.

The Inkeepers centers around an old hotel, open for one last weekend.  Sara Paxton (who is fantastic in the far superior Last House on the Left remake) plays a hotel clerk.  This doofus she works with has a website which “documents” supernatural activities at the inn.  He’s got all that nonsense ghost-finding equipment, but he doesn’t really believe there’s anything supernatural going on until the chick records a piano playing a few notes by itself.

That’s about the extent of the horror.  Sure, there are some Shining-esque ghosts who’ve committed suicide and are unsettled and all that.  But there are virtually zero chills and no real plot twists.

Actually, the most horrifying aspect of this film is the appearance of Kelly McGillis as a psychic who stays in the inn.  She was an ‘80s icon, frenching with Tom Cruise in Top Gun and providing jerk-worthy footage to a young Dr. Loomis as an Amish mother seduced by Harrison Ford’s smoldering charm in Witness.  She’s unrecognizable here: a greying, flabby shell of her former hotness.  Suicidal ghosts have nothing on the ravages of Father Time.

REVIEW: Grabbers (2012)

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Grabbers

Grabbers: C+

There’s these sea monsters in Ireland that, yup, grab people. They have tentacles and an appetite for human flesh.

When the natives realize that alcohol to these monsters is like holy water to vampires, they all get super-trashed and the monsters leave them alone. Any monster that tries to snack on a drunk person pops like a water balloon.

After this plot point is out of the way, we get a Sean of the Dead style splat-stick where a gaggle of foul-mouthed gregarious Irishmen (and women) drunkenly beat up amphibious CGI monsters. There’s a variety of monsters ranging from chicken-sized face-huggers, to dog-sized octopi, to a building-sized full-fledged sea monster. They all get literally smashed by figuratively smashed, inebriated gingers.

Yeah, this movie cheaply relies on the stereotype that Irish people are wont to be drunkards, but it was somehow entertaining to watch people stumble around and bludgeon purple carnivorous octopi with table legs. Way more entertaining than other horror movies I’ve seen that shamelessly rely on stereotypes to carry the plot.

I actually got into the spirit of things and I got black out shit-housed while watching this one. So, I dunno, maybe it deserves better than a C+. Maybe worse. All I know is that it was a swell, hair-above-average time taking belts of Jameson and watching this one.

Burp!

REVIEW: Devil’s Pass (2013)

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Devils-Pass

Devil’s Pass: D-

This film, that claims to be “based on a true story,” is about a Russian mountain range that was the site for the mysterious deaths of several hikers in the late 1950’s. Also, in this film that is “based on a true story,” the mountain range covers a space-time vortex. Yeah. Just like in other stories “based” on “true” ones.

Some annoying 20-somethings go snooping around the mountains with camcorders which results in some wretched found footage, about 90% of which focuses on the boring dynamics of their hiking group. I guess this was the “based on a true story” stuff.

One hiker looks IDENTICAL to Claire Danes but is not Claire Danes.

This aura of disappointing familiarity pervades the film. I feel like they tried to channel the disorienting, creeping found-footage terror from The Blair Witch Project where inexperienced explorers go searching for answers and wind up getting lost and slaughtered. The mountain landscapes defy their maps, nullify their compasses/GPS devices, and worry the one sensible character, who didn’t star in that show Homeland, but looks like she could have. This ate up a lot of movie time and ate away at my will to live. No shortage on complaint-ridden wandering scenes.

“People have gotten lost before,” the producers must’ve said. “That’s a true story.”

Further highlights from this story “based” on a “true” one include CGI teleporting cannibals, radioactive Star-Gate-like portals to other dimensions, subterranean Russian bunkers, and X-Files levels of government conspiracy relating to illegal and immoral science experiments. There is a fucking monster on the cover of the DVD right next to the words “Based on a true story” and right under the name of the actress who didn’t star in Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo & Juliet.

I kept watching to see what was in the bunker but wound up being pretty disappointed. The actress who didn’t star in My So-Called Life uncovers a huge international conspiracy that doesn’t seem like anything resembling a “true story” and then you’re treated to really loud insufferable monsters who look like Silent Hill rejects. They lope around with all the rigidity of poorly rendered Resident Evil Playstation graphics while they scream, scream, scream for a long, long time.

Or was that me screaming? Probably was.