THE TEN COMMANDMENTS (Cecil B. DeMille, 1923)
THE TEN COMMANDMENTS (Cecil B. DeMille, 1956)
THE PRINCE OF EGYPT (1998)
THE TEN COMMANDMENTS (2006 Mini-Series)
THE BIBLE (2013 Mini-Series)
Video by Porfle Popnecker. I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it. Thanks for watching!
Quentin Tarantino's script for "From Dusk Till Dawn" (1996)...
...features two bank robbers and their frightened hostage, a female teller.
So does Walt Disney's 1965 comedy, "That Darn Cat!"
One particular scene from the Disney film clearly inspired Tarantino...
...and both are equally unsettling.
(Originally posted on 1/14/21)
I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it. Thanks for watching!
Originally posted on 12/8/15
Barbara Stanwyck demonstrates why many film fans tend to think so highly of her talents in 1937's weepy classic STELLA DALLAS. She's a great deal of fun to watch in the role of a blowsy blue-collar girl who tries to better herself by marrying a rich man but ultimately finds only heartbreak. The "crying in your popcorn" kind, that is.
John Boles, burdened with the useless role of Henry Frankenstein's friend Victor in 1931's FRANKENSTEIN, gets to play somewhat less of a stiff here even though his "Stephen Dallas" is a proper upper-class twit. (Boles was good at playing such a character, though, and manages to make Stephen about as sympathetic as anyone could.)
Having lost the love of his young life, Stephen has left his former pampered existence to make it on his own as an executive in a large factory where Stella's brother works. This is where she gets the idea of pursuing him with as much wild charm as she can muster until he's ready to turn sappy and stumble into the marriage trap.
After entering the abandoned farmhouse, Barbra discovers...
...a horribly mutilated dead body upstairs.
Ben later drags the body into a back bedroom. But who plays the corpse?
Answer: it's Kyra Schon, who's also Harry and Helen Cooper's ailing daughter, Karen.
Later, a female ghoul plucks an insect from a tree and eats it.
She's played by Marilyn Eastman, who is also...
...Karen's mother, Helen Cooper.
Those Coopers really get around, don't they?
Originally posted on 12/3/18
I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it. Thanks for watching!
Originally posted on 4/8/09
A little boy named Alan Cade steals a magic "Kulev" stick from an old Cajun witch doctor, pops a crayon in one end, and draws a picture of a giant alligator-headed snake monster killing his abusive stepdad. Voila--one giant alligator-headed snake monster comin' up, and before you know it, bad stepdad is toast.
CARNIVOROUS, aka "Lockjaw: Rise of the Kulev Serpent" (2008), then whisks us ahead several years to find grown-up Alan (Louis Herthum) blissfully married to his childhood sweetheart Becky. But when a truckload of pesky teenagers on their way to a secluded cabin for the weekend run over Alan's beloved without even looking back to see what that "thump" was, a heartbroken Alan whips out the old magic stick again and starts drawing. In no time, the teens start getting dragged one by one into the sugar cane field surrounding their cabin by a big, mean you-know-what.
I tend to lower my expectations when it comes to low-budget horror flicks, so I'm often pleasantly surprised when they turn out to be pretty good. Unfortunately, the only way to not be disappointed by this totally blah film is to expect not to be entertained in any way, shape, or form. Aside from Alan and Becky, the characters are doggedly uninteresting and painfully unlikable, which is only made worse by some really bad performances.
Even standard good girl Sam (Lauren Fain) and standard sensitive guy Kelly (Wes Brown) are annoying stiffs whom we would dearly love to see get eaten alive. Their moronic party-hearty cohorts are even worse, although slutty blonde Ashley (Victoria Vodar) tends to strip down to her red satin undies a lot and has an endearing snort when she laughs.
The film looks kind of like an episode of "Friday the 13th: The Series" only not as good or anywhere near as exciting. Amir Valinia's bland direction and a groan-filled script don't help much. The kill scenes are few and far between, and generate zero suspense. A couple of them, however, are amusing--one guy gets skewered while mounting his horny girlfriend, with the tip of the creature's wiggling tail sticking out of his chest. He deserves it.
Another character gets summarily decapitated by said tail at such an odd moment that it isn't scary or shocking, but just sorta unexpectedly funny. As for the creature itself, it's passable, and certainly isn't the worst CGI I've ever seen in a low-budget flick. With more imaginative direction the creature scenes might've been somewhat exciting, but as it is they have little effect at all.
Rapper DMX, who's billed over the title, makes a halfhearted appearance toward the end. He's the grown-up son of the old Cajun from whom Alan stole the magic stick way back when, and now he's the only hope our heroes have of destroying the monster. I seem to remember DMX doing okay in EXIT WOUNDS alongside Steven Seagal, but here he barely registers. He's also one of the executive producers, which makes me wonder why he can't find something better than this to get involved with.
Bad horror flicks can be fun to watch if they aren't totally boring and you can laugh at them. It also helps if the filmmakers were obviously trying to make a good movie and failed in an entertaining way. Unfortunately, none of these conditions apply to CARNIVOROUS. In a word, it's simply--indigestible.
Originally posted on 3/11/16
I wouldn't have been caught dead going to a redneck trucker flick in 1977. Or even renting it or watching it on HBO in 1988. Especially if it had anything to do with CB radios, which I regarded with utter disdain. Not only did I not see movies like CONVOY back in the day, but the C.W. McCall song itself made my soul hurt.
But that was then. Now, in retrospect, I can enjoy a low-rent indy truck opera like Chuck Norris' BREAKER! BREAKER! (1977) as I bask in its retro-retro charm. In fact, this simple little tale of good guys vs. bad guys and righteousness against injustice is such utterly unassuming and straightforward fun that its purity is practically bracing.
In only his first starring role, Chuck is hardly the fabled Superman he would later become although he can already spin-kick his share of butt. Here, with his youth and lack of facial hair making him look a bit unformed, he's an easygoing truck driver who'd rather mind his own business than have to prove how tough he is.
(I wrote this short story way back in 2008. While entirely fictional, I like to think that it could have happened, or perhaps even should have happened.)
Back when I was Christopher Walken's personal chef, I never knew
what random horrors each day would bring. I remember one day in
particular, in which Mr. Walken sat in his darkened study, lost in one of
his strange, pensive moods. He summoned me just as the grandfather clock
in the drafty hallway struck noon.
I stood there, awaiting his orders, for quite a long time. He sat in a
large leather-bound chair, hands pressed together under his chin, as
though pondering his options with grave consideration. Finally, in his
familiar low, halting voice, he spoke.
"I would like...the Buggles," he said. "For lunch."
"The Buggles?" I repeated, not sure I'd understood. "You mean, the 80s 'new wave' musical duo?"
"Yes, exactly," he said, relieved that I was familiar with them. A
slight smile played upon his lips as he nodded, relishing some mental
image that I daren't even imagine.
I wasn't sure what to say. Where the hell had this idea come from? "The
Buggles broke up a long time ago," I informed him. "They're, uh, not a
duo anymore."
"Then..." he said thoughtfully, "you could get...the ingredients for the Buggles...and make some new ones."
I thought about this seemingly nonsensical request for a moment, when
suddenly the horrifying truth dawned on me. By "ingredients", he meant
that he wanted me to kidnap Trevor Horn and Geoffrey Downes, the
original members of the Buggles, and cook them for lunch. His lunch.
"I can't do that," I said firmly. "I...I won't do that. They're human
beings, not just 'ingredients' for some ghastly lunch for you." I
cringed, waiting for him to explode in a fit of anger, or at least send
me packing.
"Oh," he said softly, as though my words had actually made some kind of
sense to him. "Okay. Well, then...I'm not sure what other...lunch
options...are available to me. Let's go into the kitchen and...explore
them. Shall we?" He rose from his chair and waited for me to lead him
into the kitchen, since he had no idea where it was. So I did.
When we got there, he gazed around in silent wonder at all the utensils
and appliances. Finally, he spoke. "Where do you keep...the people?" he
asked, gesturing with his hands.
"The people? What people?" I inquired, baffled.
"The people that you cook," he explained. "Where...do you store them
before preparing them...for my meals?" He asked this as though it were
the most normal thing in the world.
Forcing back a retching wave of hot bile, I contained my revulsion long
enough to respond. "I don't cook people!" I exclaimed. "I cook food!
FOOD! Nobody cooks PEOPLE! That's HORRIBLE!"
He looked at me with a sort of serene puzzlement for a moment, then
shrugged. He noticed something on the counter. "What is that?"
"That," I said, grateful for the change of subject, "is a sandwich that I made for my own lunch."
"Ah," he said, amazed. "A...sandwich. Could you make one of those...for me?"
"Sure," I said, relieved. "What kind of sandwich would you like?
"Are there...different kinds?"
"Oh, yes," I said. "You can put whatever you want in a sandwich. Any
kind of meat, in addition to things like tomatoes, lettuce, cheese,
pickles--"
"Make me," he said with growing excitement, "a Buggles sandwich."
I slapped my forehead. "No...no, you don't understand," I said, exasperated. "You can't--"
"With some of that pickles and...er, cheese things that you indicated,"
he added. "And I...I really am hungry today, so...make me two of these
Buggles sandwiches. Each of them containing half...of each separate
Buggle. With cheese." He took a deep breath and stood back with his
mouth open, eagerly waiting for me to confirm my understanding of his
instructions.
"Look, Mr. Walken," I said, finally tiring of this charade and spelling
it out for him, slowly and plainly. "I cannot and WILL not cook people
for you to eat for lunch, or for any other meal. You're asking me to
commit MURDER, for heaven's sake...so that YOU can indulge in
cannibalism, one of the most utterly HEINOUS acts a person can commit.
Why, the very notion of this fills me with an inutterable HORROR which I
can scant express with mere words!" I leaned wearily against the
counter, drained by my emotional turmoil.
He thought about this for a long time, then held up his index finger and
began to speak. "Are you...trying to tell me..." he said slowly, a look
of concern on his face, "that we...are out of cheese?"
"NO!" I screamed. "WE'RE OUT OF BUGGLES! YOU'LL HAVE TO EAT SOMETHING ELSE!"
"Ah," he nodded, appearing to understand me at last. I waited anxiously,
fearfully, for his next words. He extended his arm so that his sleeve
would retract and reveal his wristwatch. He looked at it, furrowing his
brow. "It's five minutes after twelve," he announced. "Is my lunch ready
yet?"
"No," I said. "You told me you wanted the Buggles for lunch, and I told
you I could not and would not kidnap and cook them for you. Therefore,
you have yet to present me with a viable alternative meal to prepare for
you."
"I understand," he affirmed. "Well, then," he said breezily, "I'll just
invite some friends over for lunch, and you can cook some of them." He
pulled an address book out of his pocket, went over to the phone, and
began calling people while I simply stared at him in disbelief. Thirty
minutes later, the livingroom was filled with guests milling around
drinking cocktails.
"There's Meryl Streep," he said to me in a low voice, pointing. "I'd
like some spaghetti and Streep balls as an appetizer. And over there,"
he added, indicating a gentleman standing next to the Picasso, "is
Dennis Hopper. As an entree, I'd like some thick, juicy Dennis Hopper
steaks. Ribeyes, of course."
"Of course," I said wearily.
"And to snack on...umm, who's left...oh, just do something fun with
Steven Spielberg. Maybe a sort of festive meatloaf. Or some jerky. But
you'd better hurry, because he never stays long."
"So...I just slaughter them now?" I asked.
"Yes, yes, just slaughter them now," he urged. "I'm famished."
Steeling myself, I clutched the meat cleaver and began to inch forward.
Suddenly a wave of hysteria swept through me and I screamed at the top
of my lungs: "NO! NO! I WON'T DO IT! I WON'T SLAUGHTER AND COOK
HOLLYWOOD'S ELITE FOR YOUR LUNCH!"
With that, I flung the meat cleaver aside and ran shrieking from the
room. On my way out, I could hear Mr. Walken explain to his guests,
"Well, you just can't get good help these days."
Later, he found me hiding in the kitchen, trembling. He noticed my
sandwich sitting uneaten on the counter. "Are you...going to eat that?"
he asked.
"No, you can have it," I said in a quavering voice. "I couldn't bear to eat anything right now."
He picked up half of the sandwich and took a bite. "Mmm, this is very good," he appraised. "Who is it?"
It was Underwood Chicken Spread, but I lied. "It's Tom Cruise. I got a good deal on the cast of TOP GUN at the meat market."
And so, for the next several weeks, I gave Christopher Walken chicken
spread sandwiches for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and told him that we
were working our way through the entire cast of TOP GUN. When that was
over, I switched to deviled ham and told him we were starting in on PULP
FICTION. This eventually presented a problem, since I'd forgotten that
he was in it. So one day, two weeks into PULP FICTION, he asked, "When
do I get to eat me for lunch?" Thinking fast, I opened up a can of Spam
and pointed at it. "This is you," I said. "Oh...I look good," he
drooled.
Originally posted on 10/25/10
Oliver Parker's FADE TO BLACK (2006) has been described as "a movie lover's movie." Or, more specifically, an old movie lover's movie, since you have to be reasonably familiar with early 20th century cinema in order to really appreciate it. First off, you have to know who Orson Welles was. Which, unfortunately, leaves out a large percentage of the current moviegoing public.
For the rest of us, the fact that Danny Huston is portraying a young Welles in an apocryphal tale of post-war intrigue and murder during a film shoot in Rome is a pretty enticing lure. All that's needed is for Huston to give us a convincing portrayal of Welles, and for writer-director Oliver Parker to deliver a story that takes full advantage of its potential. Which, more or less, is what they did.
Having just split from his beautiful actress-wife Rita Hayworth and finding his career in a bit of a slump, Welles arrives in a politically-volatile Rome in 1948 to star as Cagliostro in a Dumas adaptation called "Black Magic", while also trying to get a film version of "Othello" off the ground (at least this much is true). It's fun watching Welles try to insinuate his directorial influence into the not-so-great production which clearly seems beneath him, while getting a vicarious look at the inside workings of the famous Cinecitti studios.
During a take, the company is shocked when a costumed extra named Dellere (Frano Lasic), whom Welles has met previously, staggers into the frame and dies after whispering a single word: "Nero." The police deem it a drug overdose, but a dubious Welles starts delving into the mystery himself, with the help of his young Italian bodyguard Tommaso (Diego Luna). Tommaso, an ex-cop, leads Welles into a dark world of political intrigue and danger where shady government officials and crime bosses such as "Lucky" Luciano threaten the overly-inquisitive thespian with death or, even worse, professional disgrace.
The tangled plot is pretty easy to follow if you just ignore most of it. What's really interesting is the idea of lanky, ego-driven sophisticate Welles weaving his way through all this cloak-and-dagger stuff like a character from one of his own movies. It takes a while to become accustomed to Danny Huston in the role--he looks the part, but you miss that familiar voice. Huston, in fact, sounds more like his father, legendary filmmaker John Huston, than the bass-toned Welles. But he gives it his best shot, and it eventually becomes less of an effort to accept him in the role.
I like the humorous touches such as Welles' frustration with playing second fiddle to his ex-wife in the public eye (reporters keep calling him "Mr. Hayworth"), and a throwaway shot of the slender Welles eagerly stuffing himself with delicious Italian food in an open-air restaurant (we all know where that's going to go). Huston acquits himself convincingly in the more dramatic scenes, whether romancing a reluctant Italian actress named Lea Padovani (Paz Vega), whom he discovers is linked directly to the murder of Dellere, or venturing into perilous situations where he doesn't belong and then having to sweat his way out of them.
Interestingly, director Parker, who helmed 2007's I REALLY HATE MY JOB (which I really hated), makes little attempt to imitate any kind of late-40s filmmaking style. Although the rich colors and noirish lighting are evocative of the era, the look of FADE TO BLACK is a somewhat mismatched combination of formal style and hand-held naturalism which I could never totally settle into. This isn't a big problem, though, and the modern-looking photography makes the "Black Magic" rushes and silent-movie clips that we see (which are very well-done) look more convincing by contrast. Some of Parker's quirky editing choices, while not always successful, are interesting as well.
As the likable Tommaso, Diego Luna (MILK) ably conveys the inner conflict that motivates his character to overcome his fears and plunge into political turmoil, while his loyalty to the impetuous Welles draws him into even deeper peril. Paz Vega (SPANGLISH) is okay as Lea, although I never found her convincing as the stunningly glamorous film star whom Welles is supposed to find so irresistible. In a minor role as Welles' CIA-connected friend Pete Brewster, Christopher Walken gives the film some poster-friendly star power just by strolling through it.
The DVD from Image Entertainment is in 2.35:1 widescreen with Dolby 5.1 surround sound and English and Spanish subtitles. The sole extra is the film's trailer.
While hardly memorable, I found FADE TO BLACK a diverting "what if" tale that takes a while to get warmed up but eventually begins to pay off for the patient viewer. The idea of Orson Welles as the reluctant hero in a real-life thriller which rivals the fictional intrigue of his own movies is fun, and Parker and Huston just manage to pull it off. I wonder, though--if they ever decide to give John Huston the same treatment, who are they going to get to play him?
Originally posted on 4/12/21
Originally posted on 10/19/09
One of my earliest movie-watching memories is sitting in my mom's lap in the livingroom while my older brother watched THE CYCLOPS (1957) on TV. When the monster, a giant man in a loin cloth with an ultra-hideously scarred face and one big, bulging eyeball, thrust his ugly mug into the mouth of the cave where the main characters were hiding and started roaring at them, it scared the ever-livin' crap outta me. At one point during this grueling ordeal of sheer terror, my mom tried to calm me down by saying, "Ohh, he's not scary...he looks like a funny clown." Well, he didn't look like a funny clown.
In 1993, I caught THE CYCLOPS again on TNT's Monstervision and watched it for nostalgia's sake, just to see what had been so traumatically frightening to me as a young tricycle motor. Back then, even the cheapest B-movie had a documentary realism to it, but now I could see THE CYCLOPS for what it was--a cheap, not-very-competently made schockfest with really bad special effects.
Fortunately, I taped the movie that night and watched it again today after all these years, and, strangely enough, I found it pretty enjoyable this time around. The always adorable Gloria Talbott of I MARRIED A MONSTER FROM OUTER SPACE fame plays Susan Winter, a woman who is determined to find her missing husband, Bruce, and hires a pilot named Lee Brand (Tom Drake, in a bit of a career comedown from his MEET ME IN ST. LOUIS days) to fly her into the isolated canyon in Mexico where Bruce disappeared three years earlier. Accompanying them on the expedition are Russ Bradford (James Craig), an old friend with romantic designs on Susan, and big-ape Marty Melville, who comes along only because he's heard the canyon is full of uranium and wants to get rich quick. Marty's a blustery, hair-triggered loose cannon, so it's fitting that the aging, alcoholic, unpredictable Lon Chaney, Jr. is cast in the role.
The film is written and directed by Bert I. Gordon ("B.I.G."), who loved to make cheap horror flicks about giant men (THE AMAZING COLOSSAL MAN, WAR OF THE COLOSSAL BEAST), women (VILLAGE OF THE GIANTS, a personal fave), and creatures (EARTH VS. THE SPIDER, KING DINOSAUR, THE FOOD OF THE GODS). He also seemed to have an affinity for really crappy special effects, because his movies are full of them. In this one, the Cyclops and other over-sized beasts that Susan and the boys run into are often transparent, and they rarely seem to blend convincingly into their surroundings.
There's a battle between an iguana and a gila monster in which you can see them being thrown at each other from off camera, then slowly turned over and over by their tails like rolling pins to make it look like they're locked in mortal combat. In one of the worst FX shots ever, a large, superimposed hand seems to close around Gloria Talbott, and then the entire picture, background and all, is simply whisked upward out of the frame to make it look like she's being picked up. You have to marvel at Gordon's wrong-way audacity here even as you shake your head in disbelief.
Meanwhile, the googly-eyed Chaney is so scary as "Marty" that he almost overshadows the Cyclops. During the flight into the canyon, he goes nuts when the plane hits an updraft and, in a blind panic, slugs the pilot out cold! Hilarity ensues as Russ struggles to restrain Marty, who doesn't know how to fly a plane, from taking over the controls while Susan frantically tries to wake up Lee.
Later, the totally selfish and mercenary Marty is so anxious to get back to civilization and file a 
claim on the valley that he is constantly harassing Lee to fly him back and leave Susan and Russ behind to fend for themselves against the giant critters. I think that if Gordon had just replaced the Cyclops with a screaming, 25-foot-tall Lon Chaney, Jr. stomping around in a loin cloth looking for a bottle of hooch, the movie would've been a hundred times scarier. As "skelton knaggs", a fellow member of the Classic Horror Film Board once put it: "When Lon Chaney throws on the ham, I can just smell dem eggs frying."
But as it is, the Cyclops is the main attraction here, and after all these years I still think he's a pretty cool monster. The makeup job by Jack H. Young, who worked on Margaret Hamilton in THE WIZARD OF OZ and would go on to other triumphs with such films as THE BROOD, APOCALYPSE NOW, and TV's SALEM'S LOT, is a real doozy. Actor Duncan Parkin had his head shaved and was given a gash of a mouth with half the flesh ripped away to reveal his teeth, a protruding bloodshot left eye, and a horrid flap of skin stretched over his other eye. The look is similar to the monster in Gordon's WAR OF THE COLOSSAL BEAST, and it would be hard to decide which is more disturbing--but I think the Cyclops has the edge for pure hideousness.
Renowned voice artist Paul Frees gives the monster a constant series of blood-curdling grunts, bellows, and growls, which was a big part of what scared me so much as a kid. Another unsettling element is the overwhelmingly aggressive musical score by the Luca Brasi of film music, Albert Glasser. As I mentioned in my review of THE NEANDERTHAL MAN, Glasser was the king of blatant, overbearing musical bombast that assaulted the listener like a caveman wielding a big gnarly club. Glasser only knew one gear--over the top--and he floored it. Just listening to his music alone could probably cause some people to suffer a panic attack.
The simple story takes a tragic turn as Susan and Russ make a startling discovery about the Cyclops. (You can probably guess what it is without expending too many brain cells.) When the group finally escapes from the cave and makes it back to the plane, the giant monster shambles toward them as Lee tries unsuccessfully to start the engine. As a last resort, Russ decides to draw his attention away from the others by offering himself as a target for the monster's wrath. What happens next will come as no surprise to those in any way familiar with Homer's "Odyssey."
Seeing the enraged Cyclops bearing down on our heroes brought back some residual childhood fears that still make it hard for me to be impartial about this movie--somehow, the big, ugly oaf still scares me while others might see him only as something to laugh at. But like I said, I still think he's a pretty cool monster. THE CYCLOPS is a movie that isn't nearly good enough to take seriously, but isn't bad in a totally "funny ha-ha" way like PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE or Gordon's schlock epic VILLAGE OF THE GIANTS. It's just a fairly, or maybe barely, decent grade-Z monster flick that is either a fun watch or a grueling bore, depending on your point of view. For me, it's a fun watch. But I still don't think that damn monster looks anything like a "funny clown."
(Thanks to Kerry Gammill for the "Cyclown" pic.)
Originally posted on 7/17/09
Recently I watched another coming-of-age film called "Bart Got a Room", which might be thought of as the happy flipside to today's very different coming-of-age story, DEADGIRL (2008).
In this one, two high school misfits named Rickie and J.T. get a room too, only instead of being in a posh hotel it's in the dark basement of an abandoned mental institution, and instead of finding prom dates, they find a naked living-dead girl wrapped in plastic and strapped to a lab table.
Needless to say, this isn't your father's Archie and Jughead. While Rickie (the soulful Shiloh Fernandez, who reminds me of a pre-nutso Joaquin Phoenix) is disturbed by their discovery and wants to report it to somebody, the considerably flakier J.T. (Noah Segan) quickly sees Deadgirl as their own animated RealDoll.
Before long he's as paranoid and possessive as Fred C. Dobbs and acting out his twisted adolescent urges with the undying corpse. In one startling scene, he proves to Rickie that she can't die by firing several bullets into her torso with no effect. Rickie is repulsed but intimidated into silence by the increasingly unbalanced J.T. Eventually others are brought in on the sick setup, with varying horrific consequences.
In a way, DEADGIRL reminded me of "The River's Edge", a fact-based story of some disaffected high school kids who find a murdered girl's body in the weeds and bring their friends out to gawk at her instead of doing anything about it. Here, however, we go way beyond merely "disaffected" and into full-blown "deranged."
