Frightfully funny Fridays are back!

Yea, it has been a while for me to post a Frightfully Funny Friday video.  But hey, life gets in the way and I've had enough pour down on me for a while.  And, while I know the storm is coming round the bend, I figure I'll post something while I'm in the eye of the hurricane.

Oh, and if you didn't see the season finale of The Walking Dead, SPOILER ALERT!!!


Okay, it was obvious the sniper from Terminus was herding our heroes.  Come on, a five year old could have seen that coming, let alone a bunch of seasoned zombie fighters.

Regardless, I saw this idea suggested by several sites and you knew it was only time before someone did it.

Enjoy while it's available....

The Ball is BACK!

If you've been off the Internet for the past couple of days, you missed the big news.  Phantasm V: Ravager is not just happening, it's been shot!  The trailer hit the web yesterday, and, if you missed it, just look below....

It looks like Reggie Bannister and Angus Scrimm are back, as well as the Lady in Lavender (looking a lot like original actor Kathy Lester), as well as the Cuda and, well, the Balls.  The somewhat bad news is that original director Don Coscarelli isn't directing this one.  But, he's producing, fronting the money and co-wrote the script with director David Hartman.  in an interview with Entertainment Weekly.com, Coscarelli said, "...it was time to let someone else play with my train set."

Which would be fine, except Hartman has a rather limited directorial resume.  While his credits with visual effects are strong (including Bubba Ho-Tep and John Dies at the End), is work as a director is heavy on the animation side, with credits including Transformers Prime, Jackie Chan Adventures, Godzilla: The Series and several Winne The Pooh episodes and videos.

Okay, I am not predicting doom for this film.  Coscarelli worked on the script, and one has to suspect Hartman's animation work will give the film a snappy pace and some sharp cinematic style.  And, hell, I know I'm going to watch it.  I just hope a few of the other film regulars return (A. Michael Baldwin and Bill Thornbury, specifically) and the film takes all the dangling plot points from the previous movies and wraps them into a nice little, er, ball.

Judging by the final shot of this trailer, Reggie might face down The Tall Man and close out this series, which is all I ask of Ravager.  I'd love more Phantasm movies, but I don't want to wait until I'm old and (totally) gray to see the ending of the saga.

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971)

Modern horror fans might think the opening scene to The Abominable Dr. Phibes is too long and rather pointless.  The long, static shot of Phibes (Vincent Price), in a black cape and playing a pipe organ while arising from a subterranean lair, give the appearance that director Robert Fuest walked away from the camera, allowing Price to indulge in his campy side.

And Price does ham it up.  His hands wave about without even attempting to match the soundtrack (though this might not be Price’s fault).  But the scene works on two levels.  It not only sets up the campy tone of the film, but also is a brilliant merging of a classic Gothic character into a more modern setting.  Without this scene, the film would fall flat, and Price’s wonderful campy performance would appear out of place, rather than just out of time.  As Phibes and his organ arise into a brilliant white, Art Deco themed ballroom (it’s no surprise if his appearance brings images of The Phantom of the Opera to mind), the character and the setting meld in a manner a less elaborate scene would lack.  This opening, and several other bits, makes the film a must see for horror fans.

A Gothic character and Art Deco isn't as easy to combine as chocolate and peanut butter.  Just saying.

As expected, the plot is paper-thin.  Scotland Yard Detective Trout (Peter Jeffery) links a series of murders, based on the plagues visited upon Egypt by Moses, to a medical team that failed to save the life of Victoria Phibes (an un-credited Caroline Munro) several years earlier.  Trout suspects Phibes, despite his reported death in a car crash as he raced to be at his wife’s side.  Working with the lead surgeon, Dr. Vesalius (Joseph Cotton) to protect the other team members, the pair are always one step behind the diabolical genius.

Yes, it sounds like little more than an earlier, slower paced version of the more recent entries in the Saw franchise.  While the deaths are imaginative enough to make Jigsaw applaud in appreciation, Phibes is more interested in revenge than imparting a moral message.  Fitting into a role of the wronged, disfigured genius seen in countless films from the start of cinema, Phibes becomes a forgotten fixture in cinema history, his intentions driven by the simplest desire.  His madness is not to teach, nor the simple blanket of insanity that infused horror films since Psycho.  He is the desire to avenge oneself upon those that wronged him. 

But the script, as with the more modern setting, isn’t as simple minded.  During the film’s climax, Dr. Vesalius earnestly pleads that he and his team did everything possible to save Victoria.  And while Vesalius’ cries fall upon deaf ears, it does cause the audience to wonder if her death was unavoidable, rather than caused by malpractice.

Wow, that jury was really harsh!

In addition to their smart decision to leave Phibes’ motives questionable, screenwriters James Whiton and William Goldstein (and an uncredited Fuest) inject some wonderful, nasty humor into the script. The build-ups to, and executions of, the murders are ghoulish fun, as are some of the end results (just try not to chuckle as the Plauge of the Beasts victim is removed from the crime scene).  And naming Dr. Vesalius after Andreas Vesalius, the Belgium physician considered the father of modern anatomical studies (quite likely, given Vesalius’ task at the climax of the film) shows the writers did their homework, even if the audience didn’t get the joke.

The cast is wonderful.  While Price overshadows them all, chewing the scenery at every chance, the others are the perfect foil to Phibes.  Their subdued performance set them up as the perfect straight men and reinforces the idea that Phibes is a character out of place with the time period.  Only Terry-Thomas gets to ham it up, but only to sell his lecherous glee over a rather tame stag film.

Virginia North, playing Phibes’ mute assistant Vulnavia, deserves special mention.  The script never gives any hint why she is aiding Phibes, casting her as a surrogate for the audience, as we become so captivated by the insane doctor that we become as willing participant as she is.  Adding to the character’s allure is North’s physical performance.  She moves with the grace of a ballerina, as captivating as Price with a simple movement of a wrist or a graceful spin.  IMDb lists this as her final film credit, which is a shame, as her performance hints at talents untapped in previous roles.

And she's a terrific dance partner.  

The sets, designed by Bernard Reeves, are stunning.  And the design of Phibes’ more futuristic technology is terrific, as the machines still invoke a 1920s sensibility.  It’s a delicate balancing act, but the film scores once again, making this more of a timeless fantasy than one set in a particular era.

I’m trying not to spoil much more, as horror fans should seek out The Abominable Dr. Phibes.  Modern viewers might have trouble with the pace, but I suspect the rich performances, dark humor and death scenes that don’t need CGI or buckets of blood to be unnerving will win most horror fans over. 

  

Yea, just try not to squirm when you realize this is a pre-CGI bat.

The Monster of Piedras Blancas (1959)

 I suspect many monster fan remember the infamous publicity still from The Monster of Piedras Blancas, with the titular creature holding a decapitated head.  It graced the pages of countless horror magazines and still haunts the memories of older monster kids, myself included.  But, as with trailers and Roger Corman posters, the movies aren’t always as good as the promotional material and this film just doesn’t live up to such a terrific image.  At least not the movie I imagined as a kid.

Yea, that's the stuff of monster kid dreams right there

The film start ominously enough, as the monster’s claw reached into a bowl left for it by Sturges (John Harmon), the town lighthouse keeper.  Yet despite his attempts to sate the monster’s appetite, and keep its existence secret, once Sturges loses his meat scrap supply, it’s only a matter of time before the monster uses the town as a buffet line.

Sturges also has to contend with his daughter Lucille (Jeanne Cormen), on vacation from the boarding school he sent her to a decade earlier to keep her safe from the monster.  Yes, he’s been keeping the Monster a secret for that long, regardless of the occasional missing tourist or two.  Now an adult, Lucille is dating the young local scientist Fred (Don Sullivan) and is prone to impromptu nighttime skinny-dipping sessions, which always peaks a monster’s interest. 

As the decapitated bodies start piling up, the town’s doctor (Les Tremayne) and constable (Forrest Lewis) try to keep the residence from panicking, assuming the murders to be the work of a lunatic.  Even though they find a mysterious scale at one of the murder sites, no one suspects a monster is on the loose until it pops out of hiding with the head of its latest victim.

Okay, it strolls out.

This brings up the biggest problem with the film.  The audience knows a monster is involved, yet it takes over 45 minutes for the creature to show up on screen, other than a menacing claw or a shadow cast against a wall.  And once it emerges, all the audience gets to see is a shot of its torso and arm, along with a decapitated head. 

Sure, the scene broke taboos concerning film gore (along with a moment involving the head and a hungry crab), and likely shocked the busy-with-other-things drive in patrons back in the 50s.  But even after the authorities know about the monster, the film runs another 18 minutes before the monster’s full revel, and it’s just in time for the projectionist to start up the final reel.  It’s just not enough creature time for a movie with the word “Monster” in the title.

The script, written by H. Haile Chace, pads out the film with too much dialog and director Irvin Berwick slows things down even further by elongating too many scenes.  One prime example is of a young boy who is written into the script to find a victim of the monster.  But the build up to that moment involves him being allowed to skip walking to the cemetery for a funeral.  He leans on a post for a bit, then pulls out a knife and whittles on a stick.  He puts his knife away as an adult approaches (the shot is only of their feet, but come on, the audience isn’t falling for that bit of misdirection), then looks at the sidewalk, finds a coin and picks it up before finally entering the store and finding the shopkeeper’s corpse.  Yes, it’s as long and boring as it sounds and should have been trimmed to only a few seconds, rather than minutes.  But the film is filled with similar sequences and trimming every one would have cut the running time of this feature to a short.

The script falters further when it delves into monster movie clichés.  The endless discussion about the mysterious scale is one of the worst scientist-explains-it-to-the-audience moments ever filmed.  Even more egregious is the lover’s spat late in the film, which is so forced, it risks invoking chuckle from the audience.

Even those old science films from high school didn't last THIS long.

But despite the script’s problems, the cast delivers solid performance, making the film more watchable than expected.  And the climax at the lighthouse is a lot of fun, though one wishes the action was spread though out the film, rather than delivered in one concentrated dose. 

The pace of the film’s climax is so quick, it turns Lucille into an Olympic sprinter, as she appears to cover a couple of miles (while wearing a nightgown and slippers) when she runs out of the lighthouse to get help after the monster attacks her father. 

And she's not even winded when she runs back up the stairs.  She'd get the gold!

Berwick and Jack Kevan, both laid off from Universal Studio at the time, acted as producers on the film.  Berwick had worked for Jack Arnold and William Castle, among others, as an unbilled dialog director, while Kevan had labored in obscurity in the studio’s makeup department on films like Creature from the Black Lagoon (Bud Westmore, the department head, was notorious for denying his employees any publicity or credit).  Forming Vanwick Productions, the pair took advantage of deals offered by the studio to former employees on production vehicles and equipment, which explains why the film looks so good despite the low budget. 

As for the Monster, Kevan was able to use casts from earlier Universal monsters to create his creature, reducing effects costs.  But its Frankenstein-like creation doesn’t explain why director Berwick decided to keep the monster hidden for so much of the film’s running time.  The suit looks great (given the film’s budget) and Pete Dunn delivers a fine performance as the Monster.  And the filmmakers needn’t worrying about drive in audiences trying to figure out what parts belong to other monsters (they’d leave that task to nerds of the future). 

With more appearance of the titular creature and a tighter pace, The Monster of Piedras Blancas would have been a solid little B-picture.  The cast is terrific, the monster costume is great and the overall production looks wonderful, despite the rather grainy quality of version I watched.  But, despite the flaws, monster kids will continue to seek this film out, as I did, based on that awesome publicity still.  Just be aware, the movie you imagined for this monster is probably better than the one that ended up on drive in screens back in 1959.

But she does deliver a classic scream when the monster finally appears, just as I imagined.

Zombeavers.... Really?

Yep, this is happening.  I figure Zombeavers will either cause the death of the current zombie uprising in popular culture, or end up being the GREATEST MOVIE OF THE YEAR!

By the way, the trailer is NSFW...

Yea, we've got lousy looking beaver puppets, lots of sexual innuendos and a concept that is so insane, ABC's website claims this could be the next Sharknado.  But, as Syfy has proven, all it takes is the right concept, mixed in with the perfect amount of pre-planned cheese factor, to generate a film people can't help to watch.

However, I doubt you'll see it on cable anytime soon.  With all the sophomoric humor and what appears to be a few ladies without bikini tops, this film screams direct to DVD, with a limited theatrical release.

No release date has been announced, but the film is currently hitting the festival circuit.

Oh hell, you know I've got to see it.  Sure, my soul may burn in The Hell of Bad B-Movies for it, but it could be worth it.  And I SOOOOOO hope some theater under The Shadow Over Portland will bring it to us.  And what better place to show this film, as we've got a beaver on our state flag!

And we've got the Oregon Zombeavers, er, Beavers as a college football team!  Our state screams beavers, so let's hope a few zombeavers make it to a nearby theater.


And the fact that most of the possible theaters to screen this gem probably serve beer, and you've got the must see event in the Rotten Rose City this year.  Should this happen, you know you'll find out about it at The Shadow Over Portland, so stay tuned!

Director's Cut (2012)

The opening credits for Director’s Cut include a statement that screenwriter Claire “Fluff” Llewellyn used her experiences working on low budget horror movies as inspiration for her script.  The resulting short film is quite enjoyable, though it might lead to troubling thoughts concerning the state of independent horror productions.

The film starts as indie filmmaker Damon Ingmar (Happy Dave) finishes his latest script, which he knows will change the face of cinematic horror.  Of course, the film will contain lots of blood and boobs, though he doesn’t really have funds to pay for either.  And he’s having a problem finding the right actor to play the villain of the piece.

During an Internet search, he stumbles across the web page for Jeannie (Llewellyn), who promises to make one’s movie-making wishes come true.  And, as luck would have it, Jeannie appears at the door of his basement apartment to audition and is quickly cast as the villain.  As expected, mayhem ensues as she delivers on her website’s promise.

Yes, it’s a basic “Monkey Paw” style plot.  But the film works, thanks to Llewellyn’s script and her depiction of the people involved with independent horror productions.  Though the short contains a couple of likable characters, most of the people surrounding Ingmar are more concerned with stroking their own ego than making a decent film. And while it's entertaining to see what happens to these characters, it's also rather depressing to realize they are based on real people and events.  But, at least in horror films, such behavior is often rewarded in a gruesome fashion.

Happy Dave’s portrayal of Ingmar is terrific.  He chews up the scenery at every chance, a loud mouthed, insufferable ass convinced of his own genius while reveling he has neither the skill nor the talent to make a movie.  Though his performance could have devolved into high camp, Dave keeps the character relatable to the audience, at least to those who've worked around such a person.

The only downfall to Dave's performance is the rest of the cast suffers for it.  The actors don’t get enough screen time to develop their characters and insure a reaction from the audience once their fate is reveled.  

I’m sure Llewellyn could have remedied that situation, had the film’s running time been lengthened a bit.  And I’m certain the actors would be up for the task as well.  Though Happy Dave steals the show, the rest of the cast is quite good, despite a couple of rough spots.  

Director/editor Christopher Kahler’s work is solid.  While his interior camerawork suffers from the confines of the locations used in the film, his exterior work is very good and much more interesting.  And one of the death sequences is quite shocking, thanks to skillful editing and some well composed shots.

My only real complaint is with the nude scenes.  Due to Ingmar’s constant rants about having bare breasts in his film, Llewellyn’s script seems to have taken a stance against such gratuitous moments.  This makes the inclusion of two montages of topless women at odds with the script’s tone.  The fact that these scenes are composed of footage from other sources (rather than shot for the film), and neither adds anything to the plot, makes the sequences feel out of place and included only to satisfy the prurient interests of some audience members.  A minor quibble, to be sure, but the scenes distract from the rest of the film. 

Despite a familiar plot, Director’s Cut is a well-told tale and a revealing look at the people creating low budget horror films.  To be fair, I’m sure not everyone involved in the indie horror scene is as despicable as Ingmar and the others in his cast and crew.  But it is depressing to think of filmmakers, like the ones that inspired this short, are making movies, regardless of the budget involved.

Oh, Jeannie, where art thou?

Santa Claws (1996)

One would expect a Christmas slasher film written and directed by John Russo, starring Debbie Rochon, several cast members from George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead and three aspiring scream queens willing to get naked on camera would be a major cult classic.  But Santa Claws feels as old and tired as the Christmas Muzak pumped into the malls this time of year.  It’s unfair to call this film a lump of coal, but it’s like the bundle of socks you receive for Christmas, rather than the present you really wanted.

The film focuses on the troubles of scream queen Raven Quinn (Rochon).  It’s Christmas and she has to figure out how to tell her daughters that their father Eric (John Mowod) plans to file for divorce.  The kid’s grandmother (Marilyn Eastman) and daughter aren’t thrilled about her daughter-in-law’s profession, which involved getting naked for the camera, despite the fact that Eric got Raven into that line of work  and is the one photographing the models.

It’s fortunate for her that next door neighbor Wayne (Grant Cramer) is willing to babysit the girls, allowing Raven to film her segment of Scream Queen Christmas.  But Wayne is quite psychotic, having killed his mother and her boyfriend when he was very young, and now has an unhealthy fixation on the Scream Queen next door.  And he’s willing to do anything to help her career and win over her affections.

Not that one would blame the young Wayne once you see the reason

for his shooting spree.

Yep, that’s the plot.  But that shouldn’t surprise most slasher fans, as the genre contains films with less of a storyline, and still manage to be a lot of fun.  But Santa Claws goes wrong too many times to be counted as even dumb fun.

It’s not the fault of the actors.  Rochon is good and Cramer is very intense (though, to be honest, his performance suffers thanks to some questionable editing and too much exposition).  And, in a brief appearance, Karl Hardman (Harry Cooper in NOTLD) is awesome, as he performs his own stunts during his battle against Wayne and does a great job.

And the film’s shortcomings are not the fault of the technical glitches, cheap set designs and other thing that are inherent to low budget filmmaking.  Yes, the snow disappears within the space of a day, Eric’s photo shot is in a hotel room with a few skulls to give it a “spooky” atmosphere and the sound has issues in a few spots.  But such problems are to be expected with low-budget filmmaking, and the right touches behind the camera can make the difference between a fun little romp and a waste of time.  Toss in a few moments of T and A, then fill the screen with blood, repeat until the final credits roll, and you’ve got a cult favorite. 

It all seems pretty simple, but Santa Claws gets the formula backwards.  Russo spends more time on the naked photo shots of the actresses than the onscreen mayhem.  Even worse, the script limits Wayne in his weapon of choice.  Coupled with a limited effects budget, and the end result is a film with too much nudity and not enough blood and gore. 

Yea, this is about as good as the gore effects get.

All this is understandable, as Russo created Wayne as more a Norman Bates than Jason Vorheesse.  But the script fails to generate any suspense, as the script shows Wayne is psychotic early on.  And how he infiltrated Raven’s life without triggering her stalker alarm is a mystery, especially after she describes for her daughters some of the crazy fans she’s met at conventions. 

Had Russo written Wayne’s character more like Bates, leaving a bit of mystery concerning both the identity of the killer and Wayne’s past, the story would have been more engaging.  Instead, as the audience knows who the killer is, all one can do is wade through endless scenes of gratuitous nudity and wait for him to strike again.

And before the hate e-mail comes in, let me make one thing clear.  I have no problem with nudity in horror films, which is evident in my review of Piranha 3D.  But where that film hit the right balance of titillation and gory thrills, Russo tips the scale too far, padding the film’s running time with endless shots of various actresses undressing.  Sure, the scenes are often intercut with moments that move the film forward, but Russo keeps coming back to a scene of an aspiring scream queen posing naked on the screen to a point where the audience has to suspect he is selling flesh, not the film.

Perhaps the padding was needed to get the film up to a feature running time.  But the script has moments that are potential satirical gold and would have made for a more interesting feature.  The life of a Scream Queen is pretty much laid out early on, as Raven is chastised by her mother-in-law for being the one in front of the camera.  It’s a brilliant moment, but Russo’s script doesn’t build upon it or other moments.  Instead of taking the opportunity to bite at the hand that feeds him, Russo offers up more flesh to the more prurient interest of some horror fans.

Yea, half way through this film, you'll be screaming, "Please, not ANOTHER 

 cheap T and A shot."  

Such padding isn’t much of a surprise, as, in the same year, Russo released Scream Queens Naked Christmas, a 60-minute video promo for Santa Claws that likely features most of the nudity in the film.  Oh, Roger Corman would be so proud.  And, given his involvement with the magazine Scream Queens Illustrated, it’s easy to see how Russo is trying to appeal to genre fans. 

Another problem with the film is the deaths have no real impact.  Sure, in a slasher film, characterization isn’t a major concern, but most scripts offer the audience stereotypical characters that we either love or hate, providing an emotional reaction to their deaths.  But Russo’s script delivers such bland characters, the audience can be forgiven for not caring about their deaths.  It’s fine to have a few such characters to act as fodder for the mincing maniac, but not every one except our final girl.

I’d like to think Russo was trying to deliver a sly jab at the scream queen personae.  After all, the film includes moments outside the photo shoots where the women act like they are still posing for the camera.  One could suggest this is a bit of satire, but the film contains no context to support this claim.  And, considering Russo’s involvements beyond this movie, one has to suspect Santa Claws was little more than an advertisement for Scream Queens Illustrated, one fans would pay to receive.

Now Roger Corman is just envious.

And I've ran out of online still to show you, because of, well, 

boobs.

Regardless of the filmmaker’s intent, and the performances from the actors, Santa Claws is rather forgetful Slasher Claus fare.  It’s okay, if that’s all you have to fulfill your holiday slasher craving, or you don’t have access to online porn at the moment.  But it’s easy to find better films to satisfy your Christmas craving for fear.