Lick The Cathode Void: The Rebirthering

So with Dana and I hard at work on our general weird-ass weblog The Brooklyn Cult of Mystic Horrors, I've decided to refocus this here travesty into a 100% Made For TV Horror blog. You heard right! Nothing but fuzzed-out VHS copies of ABC Movie Of The Week classics from here until time ends! Never-run pilot episodes! Ruminations on The Sixth Sense! An endless slew of haunted houses, possessed children and suburban cultists! As a tease of what's coming up:

return from the cathode void

So I left California and moved to New York. Trust me, it makes even less sense to me. Anyway, the good news is I appear to be in a productive mood again: the MPA album I Am An Empty House Longing To Be Haunted is completed and being pressed, I've started work on my contemporary cosmic freakout novelization Suffer A Witch To Live, and I might even get back to doing reviews. There's a couple new areas as far as that goes: the Video Nasty Project, in which I watch every film on the Video Nasty list and consider the reasons such films were lumped together, and the newly expanded Occult Pornography of the Seventies, for which I've done a lot more "research" on the crossroads between porn at its highest level of public credibility, the resurgence of the occult in the early seventies, and what I can only call psychosisploitation (Multiple Personality Disorder, fugue states, possession). I had a pretty long dry spell in Oakland but I was still watching a ton of movies, and I think what I'll do at least to start is work up three sentence synopses of what I've been watching and expand from there. I will most likely be working with Dana on some of this stuff. More soon! I miss you!

DUGAN LIVES: The Van and Malibu Beach

Let me begin by saying this about The Van: The song Chevy Van plays at least three times during the film. Maybe more! I lost count! In fact, it was re-released as Chevy Van despite the fact that the van in question is in fact a Dodge. Do not let this kind of inconsistency fool you, because this isn't that kind of movie. This is, instead, a coming-of-age story, which works along the tried and true premise that a boy who saves his money and works like a dog will eventually impress girls once he buys a pornographically ridiculous custom van called the Straight Arrow (just so you know, fellas, the humpwagon only stops for the ladies) with all kinds of erotic artifacts that the ladies love, like a toaster. As you may expect, Bobby's seemingly foolproof plan of asking the honeys if they wanna smoke a joint in the back of his shaggin' wagon do not go according to plan. This is primarily because, as you may have expected, Bobby is something of a dufus. It's worth noting that Stuart Goetz, who played Bobby, didn't have much of a career as an actor but is busily employed as a music editor for shows like One Tree Hill, The West Wing and the original GI Joe cartoon series. (more soon)

The Theater of Diminished Faculties

You may ask yourself (go ahead, I'll allow it) why it is I have been so remiss in my reviewery and other public service. The reason, as some of you may know by now, is because I'm making a movie, or more properly a VOD-style series, titled (you guessed it) The Theater of Diminished Faculties. I've had to explain this project to a number of people without the sort of shared references we have, so it'll be much easier to explain here. The series is a framed narrative, in the sense of The Illustrated Man, and is oriented toward a kind of 70's ABC Movie Of The Week/Night Gallery/Tales Of The Unexpected kind of vibe, with some of the nested stories playing up more of the lurid giallo-as-psychedelic-soap-opera/perverts from beyond the grave angles you might wisely expect. My strategy is to make the "edited American versions" of the episodes available for viewing online, while selling a deluxe "unedited/expanded" handmade dvd edition (including a copy of my book And So On For Ever, available in part at Cryptonarrative and copies of the soundtrack by my band MPA titled I Am An Empty House Longing To Be Haunted, and a couple dvd-only extras such as the complete Suffer A Witch To Live and The Butterfly Labyrinth Of The Black-Thighed Witch: A Sex Tragedy And Cautionary Tale episodes) for the otaku market. I've been working on getting the scripts ready, rounding up actors, working on puppet designs and scouting locations and hope to begin shooting next month with a "trial run" on a trailer/video for the song The Ghost Of Dried Wells in New York. I plan to do larger shoots in New York, Austin TX and Oakland CA, while doing smaller pickup shots across the country as part of my ill-advised summer tour. After the trailer is shot we'll be doing some fundraising, and I'll have some short-run items available for sale (including a TODF tshirt and hopefully an ep by Clocksucker, the band April and I are working on) and I'll be doing the long-promised Dr. Cocktopus Go-Go Red Hot Action Telethon that'll make the Jerry Lewis telethon look like The Day The Clown Died. Note that's not a one-story-per-episode deal, but jumping between stories, like The Saragossa Manuscript or Arrebato, tho I hope it's clear I'm not trying to do some kinda ridiculous autistic recreation of earlier films or periods of time as is the case with certain contemporary directors I will not sully your ears with at this time. To that end, hardcore gorehounds are gonna hate it: the whole thing is a very baroque theatrical approach, like Gradiva or Eugenie De Sade or a bit like I Drink Your Blood, but the best quick example of the *heavy* stuff I can give is the prologue from Coppola's Dracula, that kind of operatic bombast, despite my inability to resist disclaimers and hucksterism (as heard clearly on the radio trailer). More info (and the usual reviews) coming soon!

every day is naschyfest

After a pretty heavy month I'm up for goofing off, and there's no better opportunity than NASCHYFEST, a week-long tribute to the favorite of the conoisseur of style and panache, Paul Naschy. I'm working on a proper review of Exorcism for Mondo Euro (which has already been cracking on Nashynalia all month), a couple more goofball reviews here, and possibly a very special episode of Discomancer as my tribute to the wolf king. I think right now is a good time for me to go whole hog on stuff like this as I'm definitely in that mode. Naschyfest shall be FOREVER!

paul lynde, american folk hero

The 1970s were good to Paul Lynde, and he was ready to make the Lyndest of them with television variety show specials for ABC. The Paul Lynde Halloween Special is perhaps an ideal test subject for a certain kind of brain-rot very much akin to overdosing on Halloween candy, lying on the rumpus room floor in a heap while licking the inside of your Batman mask and dumbing it way, way down. It's not *funny* in the sense that funny is supposed to make you laugh, and I've had people run from the room in total incomprehension, but for me this kind of sweaty pointless (probably) coke-fuelled extravaganza is soothing in a regressive Altered States kinda way. Also, KISS is in it, and this is actually the perfect environment for KISS. Here's a taste, to give you an idea:

review: Don't Answer The Phone!

Look, I've seen some shit, okay? I've seen movies that would give most people PTSD. I've watched Andy Milligan and Godfrey Ho films back to back and gone back for more. I've watched the non-MST3K version of Manos: The Hands of Fate on repeated occasions. I've seen attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I've seen a million faces and I've rocked 'em all. I'm telling you this so that when I tell you Don't Answer The Phone is a bad film, I don't mean it's incompetent. I'm not saying there's continuity problems and OMG LOLZ I'm gonna tattle to IMDB. No. Don't Answer The Phone is an evil movie, and I fear the world in which it was possible. It's a bad idea like trepanning yourself so you can rub PCP directily onto your brain with a piece of rusty coathanger is a bad idea. When they find my bloodied body with swathes of my skin removed in an attempt to enter heaven, the only place where I might possibly be free of the memory of this film, free of the putrefaction of this prison I currently call my skin, it will be because of this film. I now bear the mark of Cain and shall find no peace until the end of days. I need you to understand. YOU MUST UNDERSTAND.

I think everyone has had the experience of watching a film and feeling like you could improve upon it, given the opportunity. I suspect the makers of Don't Answer The Phone were watching Manhunter in a meth frenzy and simultaneously stared at each other while furiously scratching at their sore-covered deformed bodied and hissed "We could make this movie! But no arty shit. Real perverts like us don't read Blake! We fuck roadkill and eat babies! After the success of our film we'll be able to fuck the finest roadkill and eat the tastiest babies the world has to offer!". But WAIT! you say -- this film was released in 1980! Manhunter didn't come out until '86! Red Dragon didn't get published until '81! That's because these cretins are SORCERERS! They have alliances with slithering things whose names bear such malevolence that the human larnyx has evolved in order to make pronunciation impossible -- except for They What Walk And Apparently Make Movies In Darkness! I understand now! THEY GAVE ME A BRAIN TUMOR WITH THEIR MOVIE MAGICK!

Easy, boy. Just a quick drink to steady the nerves. The public must be warned.

So we've got a crazed killer who (natch) was a Vietnam vet and who (natch) is now a photographer and general all-around pervert. We also have two detectives who vow to catch this mad dog killer on the loose who are also perverts. This gives you the false sense that this film has a plot. Other movies follow this same line and have plots, so ipso facto this film must have a WRONG WRONG WRONG. This film falls like a goober dangling from the finest strand of saliva from a bully whose mouth has never known anything but Snickers and feces directly into your fear-rictus'd maw. It's like the re-enactment of ritual abuse in a psychiatrist's office illicitly videotaped and stitched together to suggest cohesiveness. Do you understand? How can I be expected to ever accept friendship or know love now that I've seen the deformed obsidian skeleton that hides inside the earth and mirrors its shape in the destinies of humanity? How can I ever be expected to play a dvd knowing that by some diabolical machination the contents of that disc might possibly contain even a half-second snippet of Don't Answer The Phone!? How, I ask you? Never again will I complain about the indignities of Robert Culp's flapping length! A lifetime of hopping vampires would be better! Death Drug: The Musical would be better! If you ever watched something like Last House On The Left and wondered (as I did, when I was eleven) why anybody would make a movie like that, then perhaps this is the film for you. If you think a horror movie should actually be scary, then watch this film and never trust another human being for as long as you live! This film will find you where you live, smash down your plate glass windows, put a fist through your steel plated door and rub its gibbering hindquarters on everything you hold dear! I know it sounds like fun, but it's not! I swear! If only my brain could vomit up the memory of this film I might be okay, but no! NO! WHAT SIN COULD A MAN COMMIT IN A SINGLE LIFETIME TO WARRANT DON'T ANSWER THE PHONE?

I might try to write more on this later. Right now I think I'm gonna take a fistful of quaaludes and try to sleep. I'm never answering a phone again, that's for sure. For a more useful review of this film, please see Tenebrous Kate's review, which is (as always) dead-on accurate. If for some reason you should want to do this terrible thing to yourself, you can find a copy on the new Mill Creek 50-film collection Pure Terror, which is an *incredible* collection, with lots of genuinely great horror, lots of bad-but-fascinating films (such as Manos and Guru the Mad Monk -- in fact if you want some good-time incompetence watch Bloody Pit of Horror starring oily bohunk Mickey Hargitay and revel in his Crimson Executioner steez) and best of all three (THREE!) movies starring my main man Paul Naschy -- every home needs a copy, but seriously, save this one until you're sitting alone after a night of downing reds and morning glory wine and feel a severe need to punish yourself.

tumblr

I'm still working on getting back to this weblog -- the move to California has gone well but been busy, and summer is always my hibernation phase, but new reviews and pointless goofery coming soon. In the meantime, I have a tumblr at todf.tumblr.com -- unequal parts gothic horror stills, narcotic fairy tale illustrations and unabashed smut. At the risk of oversharing, it's a kind of lure-trap for my anima.

twitter review: Bram Stoker's Dracula (Coppola vs Franco II)

second feature is bram stoker's (by way of francis ford coppola's) dracula! rated r for sexuality and horror violence!
i wish the whole movie could keep up the intensity of the first few minutes.
first off, gary oldman is a great dracula. that's a given.
let me say again, for the record, that the first bit of Coppola's Dracula is AWESOME. when i saw it in the theater i was stoked.
tom waits does a good renfield, but obviously he lacks the cranked-up majesty of kinski. point to franco!
it's important to note that Harker is supposed to be a tool, so you can't fault the actor for that. however, keanu reeves, erm....i think the less said, the better.
i'm a big fan of watching a director get to play with every toy in the box, and coppola definintely does it up right here.
did i mention diamanda galas did vocal work for this film? point to coppola!
i'm a sucker for the stuff with the shadows.
the cornball stuff with lucy's suitors is not to my taste.
and no one can hold a candle to my imaginary girlfriend Soledad! point to Franco!
of course, gary oldman also did tiptoes. point to Franco! (if you haven't seen Tiptoes you need to read this)
there's a bit of victorian pornography in coppola's version. point to coppola!
also, the nod to Warning Shadows. that's pretty classy.
"Civilization and syphilization have advanced together!"
for the record, if there's any busty gypsy vampire women out there who are looking for someone to feed on, i'm totally available.
i like winona ryder, but she just doesn't pull her own weight in this film. point to franco!
what's interesting is anthony hopkins seems to be chanelling kinski. lord knows reeves couldn't pull that off.
"Perhaps, though I try to be good, I am bad."
Hopkins, without question, is the superior Helsing, as he gets his shadiness down to a science. Point to Coppola!
that's right, ladies, your foolish spells cannot protect you from my power! (note that I'm actually wearing a blanket as a makeshift cape while I moodily brood -- I'm a Method viewer!)
bonus points to coppola for the waves of blood when lucy dies. that's awesome.
I am the monster the breathing men would kill! I am Dracula!
y'know, winona actually does a good job here. i take back what i said. point to coppola!
the three brides of dracula? argento, de quincy, stoker and i all pulled them from the same source.
man, i totally need a castle.
"We've all become God's madmen. All of us."
and totally a better ending. point to coppola!
so who wins in this battle of titans, Franco vs. Coppola? well, my friends, we're all winners. GOOD NIGHT AMSTERDAM!

twitter review: Jess Franco's Count Dracula (Coppola vs. Franco I)

tonight's film: Jess Franco's Count Dracula! not to be confused with Francisco Franco's Count Dracula!
the popularity of the Twilight books means i can buy a copy of Jess Franco's Dracula at Wal-Mart for five bucks. i'm ok with that.
there's a lot of reasons to watch this film, but all i need is Soledad Miranda as Lucy. You wanna know my type? She's my type.
it's not even that she's beautiful, it's her attitude, her vibe. i'm getting all unseemly just thinking about it.
but you need more? christopher lee! klaus kinski! maria rohm! bruno nicolai did the score!
now it's a film done on the cheap, so it's not a film for dilettantes.
(harry allen towers might have put up a hundred bucks to film it)
(tonight i'll be doing a compare/contrast with coppola's dracula, so stay tuned)
man, klaus kinski is a *beast*. i don't know that he's a good role model, tho.
"Your friend is in need of attention!" I'll give her attention!
and of course, like hitchcock, franco throws in a little wave to the audience.
quincy morris looks like dick cavett!
i want that hammered dulcimer theme to play every time i enter a room!
"All my life I've made a study of what some people call the black arts."
Oh, my anima? Soledad Miranda as a vampire. Guuuuuh.
in my experience, telling girls "you have become not only a nurse but a servant!" does not go well.
dick cavett to the rescue!
"Lucy? A killer of...children?"
the stuffed animals coming to life scene really is, well, bad.
"You have learned much. You can do nothing."
also, it's saint patrick's day, i'm getting drunk.
you ever see dick cavett pound a stake into a topless girl's chest? it's pretty heavy!
also, dracula probably shouldn't put his name on his tomb if he's trying to stay low-key.
"Whilst the Count lives, time and space have little meaning." Ain't it the truth.
they dropped a giant marshmallow on the count's body! that ain't cricket!
Franco, it must be admitted, is not good with endings.
throw the creepy puppet over the wall!
Jess, i love you, but god damn you make it hard to be a fan sometimes.
even the most adamant franco fan will tell you dracula has some problems, but fuck it, buy the ticket take the ride. GOOD NIGHT AMSTERDAM!

stupor

You might expect after a few months of seeming inactivity I'd do one of those "Sorry about my few months of seeming inactivity" posts, but no! I apologise for NOTHING! I've been finishing albums, finishing the book, doing research and trying not to act crazy in public to varying levels of success, but I think I'm set to kick back in on reviews again. If it's been a while, note that TODF is basically where I ramble about things I like, so if you're looking for insightful criticism or important perspectives on the state of contemporary horror filmmaking you're shit out of luck. Reviews in the hopper for The Candy Snatchers (which rules), Eugenie de Sade (which stars my imaginary girlfriend and thus rules by default) and The Killing of America (which doesn't rule, exactly, but is *interesting*), and I'm starting a bunch of reviews on what I call 70s Paranormal Culture (stuff like the Time/Life collections and the ABC Movie of the Week). plus the usual fabrications and blatant lies. BEWARE!

Also, I'm gonna try to tart up the site a little, put up stills for all the old reviews (including the Twitter reviews) and due to mouthing off a while back I'm going to at least attempt a revew of the Twilight films. God give me strength.

my name is buck, and i like to _____

Quick! What's the absolute best way you can spend fifteen dollars right now today in the bullshit decade of bullshit? Don't strain your thinking thing because the only right answer is picking up the Buck Rogers complete series on dvd (I got it on sale at Wal-Mart, and I hate to endorse the beast but if you're already there buying shotgun shells and whiskey you might as well pick it up)! Five double-sided dvds might not be all collector's edition but it's a god-damn treasure trove of space disco swagger and Erin Grey in clingy spacesuits and space ninjas with electric boomerangs and robofunk and every guest star you can think of and awesome slo-mo shots of explosions and gorgeous stop-motion space stations and nubile alien slave girls tarted up to the nines and it's everything that the future should have been but isn't. Total id-focused harebrained idiot glee and miles of glittery detail in every single episode makes it the perfect viewing for these long cold depressing days of winter when you'd normally just listen to your Mayhem albums and cry in your corpsepaint, but no! It's cosmic freakout neon jive time! There's so much goodness here you'll even be able to stomach the otherwise awful robotic Amos and Andy catastrophe that is TWIKI (Mel Blanc, I love you and I do not hold you in any way responsible for this abomination against robotkind which is the real reason the Nexus series had to kill like crazy into the night -- REVENGE! REVENGE!) and yeah I'm a little jacked up on sugar and cold medicine but seriously, you're not going to make better use of fifteen bucks than picking up the Buck Rogers collection and working on your disco moves today. THE FUTURE IS NOW, MOTHERFUCKERS!

interruptus

Things have been pretty quiet here lately, due to a series of unfortunate circumstances -- I got very sick, the frankenputer went kaput (I'm slowly getting backups moved to the new laptop), one of my best friends and my mother passed away within weeks of each other, the siblings and I have been working out the very complicated estate nonsense) -- which is a shame, as it felt like I was finally getting into a groove with some projects, including TODF. These sort of "Sorry about the lack of posts" posts are always annoying, but I'm hoping putting something up will help get me motivated to pick up where I left off. There's a bunch of stuff I want to write about, and I'm trying to get more into the swing of writing semi-useful reviews instead of just scribbled fragments and in-jokes -- not like those are going away, but I'd like to actually add some critical thinking to that now that the brain is starting to come out of hiding. There's also a half-finished site redesign I need to finish, and I'll add screen caps to all the old reviews. I'm hoping by February I'll be back in business. Anyway, thanks for your continued patience.

twitter review: exorcism

I decided to follow up Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll with Exorcism, due to no other reason than my undying love for Maria Perschy.
And am immediately repaid for my faithfulness by yet another stunning Spanish redhead in a red dress slit up to her belly button about to sacrifice a dude.
At a hippie beach kegger, no less.
But my alliance is now with the busty hippie redhead getting high on dope and human blood with the hoop earrings. Not that I have a type.
This is the greatest movie ever.
We are *three* minutes into this movie and it's a psychedelic orgy. That's what we in the industry call front-loading.
Dude, your girl is too high to drive.
I told you so!
Oh no! My imaginary girlfriend is gonna get possessed by the devil! It's 1991 all over again!
"Grace Mills", or Mercedes Molina, our possessed blood-drinking heroine, really should have done more films.
Yeah, John! Take off your damn puritan mask!
Most obnoxious car horn ever.
GIRLFIGHT!
How can anyone not like this movie? Because it's not The Exorcist? That's just stupid!
This movie improves on the exorcist in every way!
For instance, the possessed girl, instead of being a way underage Linda Blair, is a totally of age Mercedes Molina. For me, that's case closed.
Longtime readers will know I'm a big Linda Blair fan, so I'm not besmirching her at all. I'm just sayin'.
Ladies, the quickest way to a man's heart? "I'm an evil girl, and I'm going to prove it."
This is one high-class birthday party!
Hey, an Agrippa! Those ain't cheap!
Full frontal wah-guitar and bongos coven orgy. YES.
Now if you're gonna have a problem with this film, it's the Priest and Chief Talk It Out scenes.
thankfully we're only a couple minutes away from Maria having sex with a ghost.
This organ music really hits the spot as well.
"Hallucinations."
Her possession contacts are *amazing*.
I'll admit, it doesn't have a really strong ending. But whatever, Exorcism rules. GOOD NIGHT AMSTERDAM!

twitter review: blue eyes of the broken doll

Now Nashyfest kicks into high with Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll. You know how we do.
Naschy introduces the film by saying "Really, have a horrible time." Fucking *suave*, man.
Bulletproof lines for picking up little sisters: "I've been told to stay away from you." Extra points if you can do it while milking a cow.
"If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna take my shirt off and chop some wood. So to speak."
Did I mention Eva Leon? It's not a secret that I have a thing for bosomy Spanish redheads, but god *damn*.
Did I mention Maria Perschy? Can you sense a theme?
Naschy's not even there one day and he's making time! The guy is a legend!
Also, if you don't want your sedatives I'll take them for you. That's just the kind of pal I am.
One of the alternate English titles is House Of Psychotic Women, which is not quite as poetic but probably more accurate.
"You're just like me -- a wretched failure looking for love in order to feel important." ZING!
Did I mention Diana Lorys? Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll is a film that just keeps on giving and giving.
Also, for the record, that scaly hand woud not stop me either.
Jeez, just when Naschy gets settled in some ponce with a moustache has gotta cockblock him. Good thing our hero has a rake!
A knife! That's dirty pool, you greasy bohunk!
"I got stabbed in the gut section. Let me take my shirt off."
i hate to admit this, but when women say "No one can like me. I can only be disgusting.", that's usually when I make my move as well.
jeez, Dr. Exposition is a chatty fellow.
Naschy is kinda like the melancholy Bruce/David Banner, only instead of hulking out he strangles women. Or does he?
Dr. Exposition! When a woman takes her shirt off for no reason, this the time to make a move!
Getting an eyeball out of a human head ain't easy!
Ooh! Backpackers! And my favorite kind: braless hippie backpackers!
It takes a while for the murders to start, but once they do it really makes up for lost time.
"They will not catch me alive!" That's the spirit!
Nice locations, tho! Really scenic!
Holy crap! All of a sudden it's fucking Death Hunt!
"Avenge me! AVENGE MEEEEEE!"
bonus points for the Little Red Riding Hood homage.
Okay, stop, let's count off here.
The closing shot of the film is *really* nice, and super satisfying.
Obviously, an outstanding film, you can't go wrong. GOOD NIGHT AMSTERDAM!

review: the illustrated man

For maximum enjoyment, don't think of The Illustrated Man as a movie. Instead, think of it as an extra-long special episode of Night Gallery, as that's basically what it is. Both the film and Ray Bradbury's original book are what we in the business call metadigetic narrative, or framed tales, and as this is basically my area of expertise it's definitely a format which I really enjoy. That said, the problem with making a film of a book like this is picking which of the stories will be included within the framing story, and that's the unavoidable flaw with this film -- the frame is infinitely more interesting than the three nested stories. In fact, I suspect a much better way to go with this would have been to shoot the entire film as the main story and let The Illustrated Man tell his stories directly. Obviously the producers were very taken with the basically stupid idea that science fiction works as a kind of oracle for predicting the future, so there's a lot of detail to the really quite impressive sets and costumes, but this isn't really where Bradbury shines, and his stories (which are already a bit heavy-handed -- he's a writer with a MESSAGE, after all) really don't function very well in this way. It would be like Kubrick thinking 2001 was a good opportunity to use Clarke's story to explain the technical aspects of how space stations will work in fifty years. What makes this so frustrating is the frame story is amazing -- a young hippie hitchhiker meets a hobo whose body has been covered in tattoos which can tell the future, and tells the hitchhiker about his plan to take revenge on the woman who gave him the tattoos. This is really developed by Rod Steiger, who is fascinating as Carl the Illustrated Man -- he really plays the character to the hilt, and his cat-and-mouse game with the daydreamy hitchhiker, and even better in his flashbacks to his meeting and being seduced by tattooist Felicia, played with a really astonishing manipulative carnality by Claire Bloom. Mention has to be made of Steiger's makeup job, which is not only amazingly detailed but truly beautiful, with a art nouveau-via-Fillmore show poster look. The whole look of the film, the unbalanced dreamlike quality and the score by Jerry Goldsmith, which is one of my all time favorite pieces of music (it really deserves its own post) should result in an absolute classic, but then we go into the nested stories -- one about two kids who use their holodeck-like simulation room to get revenge on their parents (you know, like television), one about a spaceship crew crash-landed on a planet where it constantly rains (you know, like Vietnam) -- and here's where we start to understand director Jack Smight as an alumnus of The Twilight Zone (and a bunch of other TV shows). These set pieces are not bad, they're well-acted (primarly by the three primary actors) and there's some really impressive detail -- but in comparison to the main story they seem stiff and obvious. This is a bit less of a problem for the book, as there's many more stories to help balance things, but it's definitely a problem with Bradbury as an author just as much as with Smight the director, and it's not fair to criticise the film exclusively on that point. To give you a kinda strange comparison, think of the film Barbershop -- the main story in both is so strong that the sideplots (in Barbershop that's all the stuff with the stolen ATM machine) really just aren't necessary, and could easily be chopped out without really losing anything, particularly if that meant more time and attention spent on the main story. It's a film absolutely worth seeing, and the things that work in the film are truly amazing, but if you have trouble with uneven films you're definitely going to have trouble here.

the dr. cocktopus thanksgiving weekend telethon

As most of you know, I have a third career as raconteur and bon vivant Doctor Cocktopus, and as next year the Cocktopus All-Star Variety Programme goes live I'm getting everything together to make sure my role as emcee is ready. There is only one thing missing, at this point, and that's my cape. My dear friend Bridgitte is currently in the process of making my very own custom Coctocape, but funds are a bit tight so I've decided that this weekend TODF is throwing a telethon. We'll have classic clips from the golden days of TODF along with absolutely stupifying new material, including brand new episodes of our three-minute relationship advice program If A Dude Wants To Watch A Rabbit Fuck A Lemon He's Not A Scientist He's A Pirate (as well as the first season, which was broadcast on KOOP radio in Austin). This will also mean the website finally gets the sprucing up I've been planning for a while. Stay tuned for further developments!

litmus horror

There's a certain kind of horror film, which almost isn't really horror at all, but a weird combination of horror, comedy and tragedy, that I call Litmus Horror. It's a sort of funhouse mirror which you look into and see yourself, only distorted somehow, just enough to see the back of your own head. It's where I'm at with the movie viewing, and I'm starting to put together a person canon of litmus horror. It's very Burroughsian, very sour, very difficult to look directly at as it directly transgresses tabboos. So far I'd include Pickup, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Blue Velvet, Performance, Jacob's Ladder and Videodrome on that list, with a good chunk of Lynch and Cronenberg's other films in there as well. Films that I haven't rewatched but are on the list include The Hitcher (the original), Last House on the Left, In The Realm of the Senses, The Act of Seeing With One's Own Eyes, Cannibal Ferox, I Spit on Your Grave, Salo and Martyrs. I think "litmus horror" is a much more apt term than "torture porn", but I can see why the later took off. It's interesting how generational horror tastes are; for me my horror g-spot is late sixties to early eighties, and the slasher genre is where I first felt like I was too old to really get it (and at twelve I was sure I had seen everything there was to see). What's interesting to me, watching these movies at this point in my life and with the context of recent losses, is how satisfying it is to (I'm gonna use a Biblical reference here, but don't freak out, I'm intentionally messing with you), as John 20:24-29 put it, put your finger in the wound, or to put it as Gillian Welch would, let me see the mark death made. This is a tricky emotion, and it's easy to see why it makes people so uncomfortable, but that's where I'm at right now.

the wild wild world of public domain comps

If you grew up on polished remastered Special Edition dvds you're probably not up for this, but if you spent time watching crappily-edited cuts of deservedly obscure drive-in flicks on cable or grey-market VHS dubs or at some scuzzy Times Square theater or from the back of your pickup at a Florida drive-in, there's something oddly *soothing* about these twenty-for-five-dollars collections. A perfect collection ends up with a couple actual classics (which you probably have a nice remastered copy of in the collection), a few previously unseen weirdo movies you've never heard of (or vaguely remember from some web review) which you'll definitely want in a remastered edition, a bunch of vaguely entertaining movies that aren't well made or brilliant but are definitely entertaining and offer some kinda kicks (usually of the "I suspect everyone working on this movie was taking a lot of drugs" genre), and an equal amount of unredeemable shit which will give you a brain cramp and leave you feeling cheated and unsatisfied, like when your brother's wife gets drunk, rubs your leg, whispers in your ear and goes home laughing. You take your chances with collections like this, and that's part of the fun -- films which your favorite blogger *loves* could just as easily be a bozak*, while shitty films could easily have some kinda nostalgic hook which makes it totally satisfying in a way that "good" movies could never do. I'll stick to sets I've bought and watched myself, though it's just scratching the surface. Likewise there's plenty of places which specialize in public domain releases, such as Something Weird, Brutallo and Five Minutes To Live, but those are single/double releases with quite a bit of care put into the release and deserving of a different status. I need to make special note of Damon Packard's Big Box of Evil, a collection of six late sixties/early seventies movies of the week (absolutely crammed with bonus features), of which I'm *still* trying to finish my review -- I'll just say if you're a Packard fan, or if you're into this kinda jazz in general (and I'll assume if you've read this far that includes you) it's worth getting.

So where to start? My personal fave is titled Horror: Do Not Watch Alone and is available in cutout bins everywhere -- copies are pretty easy to come by at Wal-Mart or Best Buy for five bucks. There's a three dvd and a four dvd version, and the four dvd is obviously the one to get, as you end up with twenty movies, including some all-time public domain classics like Dementia 13, Carnival of Souls and Night of the Living Dead -- these copies are all rough, and like I said that cut of Carnival of Souls is not gonna replace your Criterion copy, but it's nice having the version I remember from local all-night horror shows. There's also quite a few genuinely great later giallos -- Deep Red and Cat O' Nine Tails are definite standouts, though it's worth noting these are not the international edits. One of my favorite films on this collection is The Pyx, which is not really a horror movie but certainly captures '70s bummerism perfectly. There's really only a couple of out-and-out bad films in this collection and if you're looking for a cheap place to start with weirdo horror it's totally worth the cash.

This brings us to Mill Creek, home of an endless series of box sets containing double-sided budget DVD collections of much sketchier material. The first thing to note when looking at a Mill Creek collection is that the title and movie descriptions on the back have absolutely nothing to do with the contents -- the Gorehouse Greats collection barely has any gore whatsoever, and half the films on that collection aren't even really horror films but a seemingly random collection of Crown International drive-in flicks -- how do you explain Trip With The Teacher (which I should review!) in this collection? Note also that most of these films are also available on Drive-In Cult Classics Vol. II, so if you have that there's not much reason to bother. There are some really great films in this bunch, however -- I'm a huge fan of Satan's Slave (which is sadly not available on Vol. II), and there's a few really low-rent films great for vegitating on the couch. Slightly more truthful are the Drive-In Cult Classics collections, which usually have a few really interesting films (you can get Pickup on the first collection, a film I absolutely adore, and the grossly mistitled Blood Mania on the third, which might not be great but definitely delivers on the weird '70s vibe in spades), and at five bucks each it's hard to go wrong. Sketchier still are the Mill Creek 50 movie packs, and if you like black and white-era horror it's hard to go wrong with the Horror Classics box, which definitely has a good percentage of great films. I have a soft spot for the 50 Chilling Classics box, even though it has a really high crap-to-genius ratio, mostly because it has a few really great films (A Bell From Hell and Messiah of Evil both come to mind as films I've since bought as remastered editions) and some just plain *weird* movies (what's the one with Robert Englund which is basically a hippie version of Deliverance? It's not great, but it's definitley *interesting*) along with a few films where it's almost impossible to understand how they even managed to get made. Not for beginners!

Of course, after spending a week trawling through one of these boxes I always tell myself this will be the last time -- the moments of genius just don't balance out the mind-destroying dreck (and it's pretty rare I'll turn off a movie before it ends, as it feels somehow like cheating), but a few weeks later, the next time I have ten bucks burning a hole in my pocket, I'm back for another round. To misquote Big Black: lately I have been frequenting bad movies, places no respectable man would be seen.

*The term "bozak", which is EPMD-ese for penis, is a term my late (and greatly missed) friend Phil and I devised for a plot twist which deliberately and maliciously fucks with the audience for no good reason -- in this sense it's not like Brechtian dissonance, where it supposedly functions as disenchantment, but just because it's funny. I found out recently that Hitchcock has a term for this very act, but I can't remember what it is now.

MPA: Play Something Slow box set

(I try not to cross the streams too much with my various projects, but I figure an exception is due in this case: MPA is my junk-drone-freakout band, which has its ten year anniversary this year, and I put together a box set of waaaaay more material than any reasonable person would ever want to listen to. You can hear some of these songs on the MPA myspace page. If you're interested let me know.)

That's right, it's finally here: every out of print MPA album available in the mp3 format on a DVD crammed with unreleased and alternate tracks, photos and documents from the Age of Midwest Death Cult 1999-2009. Also includes a cdr with MPA's greatest hits, so all the songs you grew up with are available in whatever format tickles your hindbrain. Lovingly remastered from the original masters, these songs are of much higher quality than the sketchy rips floating around the internet. Each box also contains the incomplete novel And So On For Ever in the original fragment-text format and a one of a kind Teraphim Mystery Recording cassette -- each one unique and never to be reissued. The box also includes photos, xerox experiments, fetish-items and Sockfucker Blues: The Unauthorized History of Medroxy Progesterone Acetate. Available exclusively from me for twenty dollars (postage included). Note: this collection does not include the still in print albums Mar'ah, Church of Mandrax and Blearyeared (though it does include the Blearyeared bonus "Intermission: I Do Not Wish To Continue"). I'll include a bonus copy of the brand new Durga On The Wing of Abomination ep with every order. If you want one, msg me here or email mpa via cryptonarrative at the com domain. All proceeds go to help fund the Theater of Diminished Faculties.