SLEEPAWAY CAMP (1983)

On the twenty-first day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... twenty-one bloodstained 70s tube socks!

THE CARD:

A Wonderland Ranch full of short-shorted prepubescent boys, lots of irritating New York accents, 38-year-old teenagers, the worst fake mustache in cinema history, and the creepiest ABC After School Special since “Why Johnny Doesn't Wash”.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

It's the 80s and everyone's hair is enormous. Case in point, little Angela and her brother who are enjoying a day on the lake with Dad. A couple of overzealous teens out horsing around in a speedboat accidentally run over and kill Dad and little bro. Screams! Blood! Death! Hairspray! Years later, Angela is a teenager living with her aunt and cousin Ricky. The teens are off to Camp Arawak for the summer to engage in wacky teen adventures with Bill Murray nowhere in sight. Angela is a shy, quiet, and mute nerd who's obviously been traumatized by the loss of her family. Brawny Ricky is her sworn protector and defender against the teasing of the other large-haired and snooty summer campers, including sexually active prima donna/deformed elf Judy. The kids frolic, play baseball, and engage in kooky summer camp hijinks of all kinds in bucolic splendor. Angela remains distant, talks to no one, and just stares at the hormone-induced wonders. One day, she's cornered by a lecherous camp cook who attempts to molest her until she's rescued by Ricky. Later, a mysterious figure dumps a vat of boiling water on the chef, sending him to the cooling rack. Still later, Ricky introduces her to his friend Mike and Angela begins to break out of her shell, but she's still bullied and ridiculed by Judy and the other kids in the camp. The mysterious killer returns to wreak vengeance upon Angela's tormentors while the camp owner refuses to do anything for fear of bad publicity. As the body count rises, the counselors do nothing, Angela confronts her troubled past and emerging sexual urges, and the truth behind the identity of the killer is guaranteed to blow your volleyball-playing mind.

THE FINISHER:

Looking back at a childhood and teenage life dominated by spooky VHS fare, I don't know how the Hell I missed Sleepaway Camp. Ah let's face it, I don't know where this film has been hiding my entire life. The movie has a relatively strong cult following with several sequels including a 2008 release featuring the child stars of the original. Let me first state that it's not very good, is inadvertently hilarious most of the time, and feels like another Friday the 13th imitator. But the movie is distinguished from its contemporaries by a virulent psychosexual subtext and one Hell of a great ending. And you know what they say, good movies with bad endings are mostly forgotten, but you never forget an ordinary movie with a great ending. Sleepaway Camp is an average slasher, albeit with pretty good effects for the time, and displays the themes of teen angst and twisted sexuality with blood-drenched pride, yet simultaneously wallowing in fun-bad movie incompetence. The acting is atrocious, with the possible exception of Felissa Rose who plays Angela with an appropriately detached and emotionless creepiness. The rest of the cast is not particularly memorable save for a few muscle-bound doofs in tighty whities, bitchy 80s chicks with a low tolerance for the handicapped, and the most offensive pedophile chef since the Frugal Gourmet. But I guess it's all in good fun. Without going into too much detail, the real reason to watch is movie is the twist ending and along with the entertainingly low-budget production values, uncomfortable psychological issues, and cheeseball acting, Sleepaway Camp earns a solid recommendation.

LET THE RIGHT ONE IN (2008)

On the twentieth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... twenty cardboard vampire Valentines!

THE CARD:

The frozen tundra of suburban Stockholm, the palest kid I've ever seen, a bright blue-eyed little Nosferatu, bunches of pissed-off kitties, and an unforgettable bloodsucker love story.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Oskar (Kare Hedebrant) is a quiet but troubled kid from a broken family living outside Stockholm in the early 80s. He lives with his mother in a dreary apartment and occasionally visits his father who lives on a snowy but idyllic farm. His classmates torment him at school, but he never fights back which only fuels the abuse. At night, he stands in front of his bedroom window and acts out a terrible pretend vengeance upon his tormentors with a knife he keeps under his bed. He also has an unhealthy interest in crime and death, including a fascination with a recent series of murders in his town. One night in the playground, Oskar meets a disheveled young girl (Lina Leandersson) and tries to make friends, but the two don't exactly hit it off at first. Time goes on and he becomes more curious about this mysterious girl who doesn't wear a jacket in the freezing cold, while at school the bullies escalate their teasing. Eventually through persistence, Oskar forms a bond with the little girl, who is named Eli. Their friendship soon blossoms uncomfortably into something more when Oskar realizes that Eli is a vampire. She is aided by a man who gathers blood from unsuspecting victims, but when he disappears, her hunger forces her to hunt and feed on people who live in Oskar’s apartment building. As Eli becomes more and more of an influence in his life, he comes to terms with what he must do to confront the bullying at school. But the adults in the town are slowly discovering what’s behind the recent string of bloody murders and fate is closing in on Oskar and Eli. But the isolation of a frozen wasteland, the brutality of revenge, and even life and death are not enough to keep two young people from being apart.

THE FINISHER:

Screened on the last day of L.A.'s Screamfest, Let the Right One In is a poignant, brilliantly original and moving vampire film. Ethereal child actors Hedebrant and Leandersson perfectly inhabit their roles in this hauntingly beautiful and chilling romance. Eli’s innocent, bloodstained face and Oskar’s bewildered yet knowing expressions are extraordinary. The kids carry the emotional brunt of alienation, loneliness, and violence with stunning yet gentle skill. The storytelling here is simple, yet at the same time feels like something new and different, imaginatively merging a teenage love story with vampiric lore such as bloodlust, cats’ hatred of vampires, and vampires’ inability to enter a home without being specifically invited by the resident.

Director Tomas Alfredson brings the chills, the scares, and sensation without going for the throat with quick cuts, loud music, CGI, or cheap effects. You won’t see any sexy superhuman Twilight rejects here; the vampires here are tortured souls, twisted by the unfathomable horror of persistent hunger and solitude, but still retain basic human needs. The cinematography is stark and minimalist and the score is atmospheric, unsettling and understated. Let the Right One In is perhaps the one of the best vampire movies in years and works as a love story and a fairy tale, dark and arcane yet sincere and sweet.

ZOMBIE AFTERMATH (1982)

On the nineteenth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... nineteen acne-suffering undead bikers in purple pants!

THE CARD:

Super deformed Space Shuttle models, a marauding Howard Stern, young Captain Spaulding, a crumbling Los Angeles cityscape north of the 10, running women in tank tops with perky boobs, and zombies I think.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Earth is devastated after a zombie epidemic wipes out most of the population. A crew of astronauts on a mission in space (or someone's garage, I can't tell) loses contact and returns home unaware of the global disaster. They crash land in the ocean and make camp on the beach where they are attacked by the undead who apparently know how to box. In the morning, they trek towards the leveled city of Los Angeles where they stumble across a tape recording someone left documenting the downfall of society. The astronauts go exploring, argue incessantly about the reasons for the downfall of humanity, and find a museum with a small band of survivors subsisting inside. Pioneering uber-nerd Forrest J. Ackerman appears as the tour guide in the dilapidated museum and he muses poetically about man's folly. Um, Forrest, there are some things man can't be held responsible for, even zombie apocalypses, OK? Thanks. Meanwhile a scumbag leader of a biker gang, Cutter (Syd Haig) has his way with kidnapped women, tortures survivors, and generally acts like a jerk. Forry kicks the bucket and the main astronaut, Newman, takes over the leadership and care of the museum survivors including a young boy he gets a little too cozy with. Newman and the kid have a run-in with a woman (the one with the perkiness) who escaped Cutter's gang. They are soon attacked by zombies who jump off roofs and carry sticks. This may be the first appearance of fast-moving zombies! Back safely at the museum, Newman and perky chick hump while Cutter's army commits more atrocities. Newman and his small band plot to overthrow the monstrously horny Cutter, who's been raping, pillaging, eating' babies, blah blah blah. Now here's where it gets weird. Newman's girlfriend gets a hold of a laser gun. A Star Wars-type laser gun. She destroys most of Cutter's camp with the super magic gun. And then we don't see it again. They return to the museum where they hump some more. Cutter gets his revenge when he invade the museum and rubs out a generous portion of the survivors. Newman finds perky girl dead, polishes his shotgun, and gears up for a full-on showdown, and the hope that the funny looking zombies will reappear dims.

THE FINISHER:

Sweet Weeping Bad Movie Watching Christ. Where does Tremendo's DVD dealer find these things? More than likely the penny bid at the Dollar store and that's when he splurges. Zombie Aftermath, which sounds like my condition throughout high school, is a crappy sci-fi zombie flick that was probably made with leftover footage from that Shazam TV show of the 70s. Syd Haig, fresh off his Jason of Star Command run, dominates the scene with a seedy, swarthy presence not seen since, well, the prior Syd Haig B-movie cheapo. I mean, did he ever make anything worth a damn? There’s Rob Zombie’s Devil's Rejects, and I know people who like Spider Baby. I got to get around to watching that. I tried to watch it with Netflix streaming service, but for some reason the damn thing wouldn't stream. I upgraded to Explorer 7 and that seemed to do the trick, but then I lost other functionality so I went back to the prior version. I prefer Firefox as my browser to be honest. But Netflix streaming doesn't work with it. I know there are little hacks or fixes out there, but why doesn't Netflix just fix the damn thing? Not everyone bows down to Bill G. and Explorer blows. Have you tried that Google browser? I don't know if I want to download another damn browser. Firefox is fine with me. I even use their email program on my laptop. It's alright I guess, but what the hell do I know. Back to Haig, did anyone see Rob Zombie's Halloween remake? What a disappointment. But the remake was like totally unnecessary don't you think? I think most remakes of great movies are a big waste of time, like that Manchurian Candidate remake a few years back. Come on, Jonathan Demme! And Denzel Washington was unwatchable for the first time ever. I really like Devil in a Blue Dress, though. What a wonderful neo-noir, plus a good script didn't hurt. I remember watching it on VHS with this girl I had a crush on, my roommate's best friend. She made Rice Crispy squares with Red Hots in them. She was very talented. Mmmm...I sure could go for a few of those right now. Man, she was cute. Whatever happened to, um what was her name?

...

...

...

Oh yeah, Zombie Aftermath. It sucked.

FINAL EXAM (1981)

On the eighteenth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... eighteen A-pluses ... in murder!

THE CARD:

Wise-cracking, evisceration-prone college students, a death-obsessed Nerdlinger, a Kurt Vonnegut dead ringer, Larry the Football Coach Guy, John Huston's failed progeny, and cafeteria workers with gigantic beards.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Two horny alcoholic teenagers make out in a convertible on a grainy, dimly-lit street. They sort out their relationship difficulties in a three-second conversation and then get down to business. Before you know it, some dude in Chugga boots interrupts the coitus and offs them with superhuman strength. The next day, the campus is mildly shocked at last night's events. Cut to a chemistry class final exam (hence the title) and we are introduced to an Advertising major with low morals (shocking!), a hateful loudmouth jock named Wildman, a Laraine Newman lookalike Brainiac, a world-weary Professor, and a morbid nerd with an encyclopedic knowledge of mass murder named Radish. Yep, Radish. Like any good scholar, the Prof is fooling around with one of his students, a young airhead hotty named Lisa. Meanwhile, the obligatory black van stalks the campus. But instead of our superhuman killer who's quickly becoming the most beloved character twenty minutes into this thing, the van is actually filled with armed masked gunmen who blow away students on the front lawn. Awwwkwaaard. Well, it turns out to be a fraternity prank that, um, probably wouldn't go over too well today, but was funny as shit in 1981. The distraction allows the Mad Man wanna-be to cheat on his exam. A gum-chewing Sheriff who definitely fails to communicate shows up and hassles our massacre-loving pranksters and vows to keep an eye out. Later, we discover that Lisa and Brainiac are roommates and Brainy is getting frustrated at Lisa's good and easy life. Brainy confides in Radish and the pair form a burgeoning romantic partnership, despite the fact Radish is gayer than ballerina night at a West Hollywood piano bar. Wildman and Advertising guy harass Radish for calling the cops and promise to make finals week even more stressful. So some other pranks are pulled, big-haired Advertising guy and Wildman plot to steal drugs, Brainy gets more depressed setting up her final girl turn, and I worry that our slasher will never show up. My frets don't last long as our invincible Wrangler jean-wearing maniac magically appears to clean (frat) house, cut class, boost his Grave Point Average, and other lame college kid-killing puns.

THE FINISHER:

Continuing my nostalgic trek into 80s horror comes this teen slasher that took forever to make it to DVD, and maybe it should have taken a little longer. The movie was unoriginal, boring and very predictable. Sure it came out at the dawn of 80s slashers, just as early releases were laying out the parameters for the genre, but that doesn't excuse its utter lameness. On a positive note, the movie is not slow, some scenes and dialog are enjoyable for their laugh-out-loud awfulness, and the characters are completely unlikable which feeds the viewers' lust for a speedy, bloody end. Final Exam borrows much from its contemporaries such as the Halloween-inspired soundtrack and the Friday The 13th death scenes. Director Jimmy Huston, son of John Huston, is less than inspiring at moving along the bare plot, and it would have been interesting if he'd learned anything from Pops. The killer's motives and origins are left unexplained and he's just dumped upon the campus as an indestructible, quick as the wind, empty homicidal android. But on the plus side, he looked like one of the Daryls from Newhart:


The DVD has interviews with the cast of the film. I watched the one with the guy who played Radish in hopes that he would out himself, or at least admit that he banged that asshole Wildman. But, it's a by-the-numbers “We shot it here and had a good time”, and “Everyone was wonderful”, and “I am so ashamed” deal. Final Exam is pretty standard work, no fancy cinematography, passable acting, and a sad lack of gore. I guess horror fanatics will enjoy its reemergence from VHS obscurity, and it does have that bad 80s charm that makes you feel so warm inside. Just like being strangled by parachute pants.

JACK BROOKS: MONSTER SLAYER (2007)

On the seventeenth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... seventeen hours of monster karate lessons!

THE CARD:

Teenage mutant ninja monsters, a pissed-off white boy, ineffectual psychiatrists, Room 222 rejects, and pukey messes that aren't the script.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

The title character (Trevor Matthews) is a jack-of-all-trades handyman with a shitty van-load of anger issues fostered by witnessing the death of his family at the furry hands of a forest monster as a kid. Life is falling apart for Jack. His shrink is out of ideas, his girlfriend's got a wandering eye, and he can't control his whiny self-hatred and temper tantrums. He attends night school where his science teacher Mr. Crowley (Robert Englund) asks him for help with his plumbing. Jack goes to work on his basement plumbing and unbeknownst to him, inadvertently releases a weird gas that slowly seeps into Crowley’s bedroom and turns him into a ravenous carnivorous creature with black contact lenses. (I knew I should have invested in those things. They’re everywhere!). Guided by the sickness, Crowley digs up a box in his backyard that contains a beating black heart that he promptly chows down. Meanwhile, Jack's loss of temper intensifies despite meeting a new punk rocker girl and a breakthrough with his counselor. But he’s still pissed and refuses to talk about his parents’ death. Crowley's physical deterioration continues as he eats his pet dog, vomits on the chalkboard, and grows tentacles from his hips. Unfortunately, there's not a giggling Japanese girl in sight. Jack confers with an old fart who owns the local hardware store. Oldie weaves a tale of the bizarre legend of Crowley's house which clues us in to the mystery of his degeneration. Shouldn’t we all know by now that when a scary old man tells you a narrative of his misspent youth that results in dismemberment and/or cannibalism, you should probably heed his advice? But Jack dismisses the cautionary tale and continues doing stuff, mostly not monster-slaying. By now Crowley is a burping, farting, fleshing-eating mess, and his transformation into rubbery movie monster completes. Crowley the Hutt unfurls his tentacled fury upon his students and transforms them into hideous zombies while Jack tries to save his girlfriend and a couple others by doing what any skilled monster slayer would do: lock themselves in a room. A life or death struggle ensues with lots of running, screaming, monster grunting, and unnecessary ethnic stereotypes. Jack and his lady manage to escape, but a song triggers a memory and a feeling deep within Jack and he returns to met out some serious monster killing like the Walmart-bred badass he was born to be.

THE FINISHER:

First off, I love monster movies of all sizes, shapes, and species, (well, except for Species) and I've been more than forgiving for any missteps to the majority of the bad ones. Jack Brooks: Monster Slayer is not a terrible movie, but I don't think any less of it because it's evident that there's genuine enthusiasm that went into it that longs for the 80s style and spirit, a recent trend permeating independent horror. I remember with fondness afternoons and nights watching horror goodness raided from the local video store as a cherubic scare monger. The best part was that sometimes I'd find something really good amidst VHS tapes of mostly bad. And Monster Slayer not only wants to bring back that exciting, fuzzy feeling, it also wants to be emblematic of it. Unfortunately, the movie plays out more like a pilot of a cheap TV show than an independent horror movie or a nostalgic throwback. I suppose it's meant to be a comedy, but the laughs weren't coming at you like silver bullets. In fact, the first forty minutes drags significantly with filler and exposition. But the movie does follow a low-budget horror movie rule: save everything for the third act. Unfortunately, they forgot to include a first and second. But they pursue this rule faithfully as the last thirty minutes is an enjoyable, fast-paced gorefest. I was very thankful and appreciative for the lack of CGI and impressed by the traditional camerawork, and make-up and puppetry effects. The main leads are fine, Jack is gruff and ingratiating but bland, and once again Englund pulls through like a trooper. What I took away from this watchable but flawed movie is an enjoyable lack of pretension. It's just a guy slaying monsters because monsters need slaying. Unfortunately, the movie and characters aren't well-rounded enough, the monsters themselves are a little too cartoonish, and the story less than engaging. Monster Slayer's intentions are good, but it fails to bring back that elusive joy of finding a gem in a pile of crap.

WES CRAVEN'S CHILLER (1985)

On the sixteenth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... sixteen homicidal human Popsicles with Mommy issues!

THE CARD:

That guy from The Warriors, a priestly Paulie, loads of other That Guys, jerky doctors, Wonder Woman’s Mom, a violated Rottweiler, and another black eye for the Cryogenics industry.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Miles Creighton (Michael Beck) dies of liver failure and his grief-stricken, money bags-laden Mother (Beatrice Straight) puts him into frozen suspended animation. She hopes to revive him when a treatment is available in the spooky liver-free future, despite the spiritual protests of the family priest (Paul Sorvino). Ten years pass, and a malfunctioning ice box thaws Miles out but doctors are able to revive him and treat his now-curable illness. But Miles isn’t the same warm, affable guy he used to be. He huddles alone in bedroom in his enormous mansion and watches TV, drinks wine, and silently contemplates evil doing. Well, so far I can really relate. But the real Miles blossoms when he’s given back control of the family business, a mega-corporation in need of profit-making ventures. He’s emotionless and ruthless, hates charities, and lacks a soul. He drinks a lot of booze, beats women, abuses animals, and murders here and there. He then hits on his adopted sister (Jill Schoelen), who can’t see he’s a cold-hearted snake! Just look into his eyes! He’s been telling lies. He’s a lover boy at play, he don’t play by rules, oh oh…OK I’ll shut up now. So he does a bunch of other messed-up Donald Trumpish-crap before the final showdown with his ticked-off, over-billed Mom who leads him back into the fridge where he’s put down for an eternal chilly time-out.

THE FINISHER:

Browsing my Netflix horror selections, I stumbled across Chiller which had “Wes Craven’s” displayed prominently on the front cover. “Hmm, the guy who directed the original Hills Have Eyes and the underrated People Under the Stairs and invented Freddy Krueger, you know, that horror icon”, I told myself. Then I thought, “Hmm, but this is also the guy who created Scream and the endless stream of haughty, self-aware, dumb-as-shit teen slasher copycats”. What to do? It was dated 1985 so I guessed that this was made between the first Nightmare on Elm Street and Serpent and the Rainbow, which comprised a classic Craven era of sorts, so I figured what the hell. I later learned that this was one of several TV movies Craven did in the 80s. The DVD quality was worse than anything you can see on VHS. It looked like someone put a camera in front of tube TV and shot the whole thing in a cave. The acting was spectacularly wooden, even for TV. Only stage-trained actress Straight seemed to be putting in any kind of effort. The Warriors guy was as stiff as a Baseball Furies bat. Sorvino may have had ten minutes of screen time at best, but his mug dominates the video cover. The only redeeming and memorable factor of the movie was a cool reanimation sequence by the late, great Stan Winston.

Chiller was truly dreadful, slow, and worst of all, boring. I longed for commercial breaks that never came. Like, remember that one Popsicle commercial from the 80s where goofy kids sung and danced into the popsicle like a microphone? Yep, better than Chiller.

OTIS (2008)

On the fifteenth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... fifteen cans of Slim Fast for Serial Killers!

THE CARD:

A pudgy cool duder without a life, Scorcese’s ex-squeeze, Macaulay Culkin’s former nemesis, A Dear John alum A-hole, Rool, and lots of obvious, painfully unfunny mutilation jokes.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

A young hot chickie (Ashley Johnson) is kidnapped by a tub-of-lard serial killer Otis (Bostin Christopher) obsessed with taking girls to his basement and acting out the prom night he never had in high school. Fatty calls all his victims “Kim”, bangs them, and tortures them for good measure before offing them. It's probably the only exercise this girthy wonder will ever get. The girl's empty-headed but concerned parents (Ileana Douglas and Daniel Stern) are distraught when the idiot detective assigned to the case (Jere Burns) is more interested in his hairdo than solving the case. The investigation spirals out of control, forcing the overzealous Mom and Dad team to take things into their own hands. Meanwhile Otis has a difficult time hiding his crimes from his jerk-wad brother (Kevin Pollack) and is starting to feel the heat from the parents' meddling in his dark affairs. Eventually, hilarity ensues when the parents mistake Otis' brother for the killer and kidnap, torture, and brutally murder him. It all gets really silly and insipid when the parent's discover their error and encounter the real Otis waiting for their next move. The ending is supposed to be ironic and shocking, setting up the stage for further hot chickie buffets for Tubby.

THE FINISHER:

I watched this movie as part of the 2008 Fangoria Weekend of Horrors in L.A. last April with an enthusiastic audience cheering and cracking up for ninety minutes. I almost pierced my brain scratching my head trying to figure out what they were seeing and what I was missing. Too smug to be a stupid slasher and too dumb to be a black comedy, Otis deserves little scrutiny and more fast-forwarding through the boring parts, of which there are many. Just like his upper lip, Otis is a big sloppy mess. If I must say anything positive it's that the movie tries to say something about media hyper and victimization, and this would have been fine in a film that didn't irritate the living fuck out of you every five minutes with cheap jokes, inept pacing, and poor attempts at scares.

Bostin Christopher as Otis is a bumbling, stuttering, and grunting headache. Even stalwart vets Douglas, Stern, and Pollack can't surpass the material in this overwrought disaster. At times, Otis wants to develop into a slasher parody, but instead it wallows in painfully “ironic” character turnarounds and drowns itself in a bucketful of obviousness. There’s not much to like about Otis, despite the nostalgic tasteless humor and 80s-Pop soundtrack. Even in a room full of fellow horror geeks, it took concerted effort on my part not to leave the room. But I have to admit, I did leave ten minutes before the end (Ray Wise was speaking in the main room!). I got caught up on the ending and just threw my hands up in a spectacular “Meh”! The movie becomes another victim of the pitfall of horror comedy: keeping a balance between the funny and scary. Otis is about as consistent and reliable as his bulging, blubber-curdling waistline.

MUTANT, AKA NIGHT SHADOWS (1984)

On the fourteenth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... fourteen outstretched zombie hands stained with mustard!

THE CARD:

Road Warrior redneck prototypes, a small town starving for big Hollywood money, the pasty-faced undead, a bunch of OSHA violations, and Wings Fucking Hauser.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

A monster with smoky, slippery hands attacks a handyman in a garage. Scary!

Two young studs on a road trip, one an awkward feather-haired doof and the other Wings, ramble down the road in their sweet Mustang convertible. They are soon harassed by shitty driving hillbillies and are run off the road and humiliated by the jerky rednecks. Their car totaled, they hitchhike the rest of the way, semi-shirtless, and are soon picked up by a crazy hunter named Mel who weaves stories of alien sightings in the countryside and warns them of dangers in the night. Cut to evening in a sleepy town where unbeknownst to our heroes, the residents are being picked off one-by-one by a guy with a smoking hand. The city slickers stumble across one of the victims, who looks like his neck was chewed off by a diseased yak, and when they try to report the crime, they get their asses kicked by town bullies that tried to kill them so impolitely earlier. Their butts are saved in the proverbial nick by the Sheriff whom they try to convince there's a killer on the loose. Later, the Sheriff finds them shelter for the night at an inn where they encounter additional crazy local yokels.

Meanwhile, the Sheriff finds a metal smoking object and takes it to the local doctor for examination. The pair are mystified at the origins of the strange, salt-shaker sized thing. Back at the inn, Doof and Wings argue (shirtless) again about the dead body they found and what they plan to do about it. Wings leaves Doof alone who subsequently becomes victim of the smoky monster. The next day, Wings, who we finally learn is named Josh, searches the town for Doof and makes a shapely lady friend named Holly along the way. The Sheriff and the doctor continue their examination of the object and find traces of blood on it. They also discover that blood is missing from the doctor's fridge. Josh and blondie Holly investigate the spooky goings-on at the local school where she is a teacher. They find another blue-faced victim, a student, in the basement where Josh is attacked by one of the rednecks from earlier. He escapes the scene while the doctor and Sheriff examine the corpse as the body count continues to mount. When the Sheriff notifies the student's family, he finds more bodies dying under mysterious circumstances, including a pissed-off but dead-tired zombie.

Josh and Holly argue, then kiss, and then worry about Doof. Just as Josh was getting down with Holly, he suffers a sharp pain in his stomach that knocks him out. He awakens in the doctor's office, still bewildered at Doof's disappearance and still horny. The Sheriff and the State Police argue over what's going on, and it is revealed that the Sheriff has somewhat of a drinking problem that has compromised his judgment in the past. Back at the doctor's office, more and more people are getting sick. But the monster with the smoking hand from the opening scenes has seemingly vanished. The sickness is now turning the infected residents into zombies with slimy hands and one of them attacks and kills the doctor. The next day, Josh and Holly somehow track Doof (who I think is named Mike, but who cares) to a chemical factory on the outskirts of town. Ah ha! It's the 80s, of course pollution's the source of the weirdness! How times have changed.

Josh bumbles his way around the factory and is captured by the foreman, who turns out to be Mel, the crazy hunter from the first act, not to be confused with Yor, Hunter from the Future. Tun tun tuuuuuuuun! Holly saves the day by ramming the factory in a Plymouth, rescuing Josh, and spraying the bad guys with the zombie goo. Back in the town, the Sheriff has been fired, Holly's uncle is undead, and buff shirtless Doof is still missing. After a run-in with Holly's family zombie, the Sheriff is finally convinced that something weird is indeed going on. They find a nest of zombies at the doctor's office and do battle. These zombies are of the stumbling, clawing kind so a locked door pretty much seals their doom. Josh returns to the inn to find Doof and instead discovers his body in the cellar, thankfully with a shirt on, and is attacked by the zombie daughter of the kooky innkeeper. He disposes of both of them with a Bic lighter. Holly returns to the school to help one of her students whose lost his parents in the zombie outbreak, but they too are attacked by a horde of little kid zombies. Yes! The kiddy undead feast on the kid in a really messed up scene. Josh arrives in time to save Holly, but the kid is zombie toast. Josh and Holly are again attacked by zombies, who have acquired a new power of being able to melt glass with their hands, on their way out of town. They hole themselves up in a gas station and are surrounded by the ravenous hordes in a final showdown of bloodcurdling mayhem, terrifying terror, and rubber crowbars!

THE FINISHER:

I pretty much walked you through the entire film in the paragraphs above, saving you 100 minutes of your life. This cheap effort is so dim and poorly acted that it'll make you yearn for a dozen TV movies starring Valerie Bertinelli. Although the kid zombies tearing up their classmate was pretty cool.

It's only saving grace? Wings Hauser. One of the great unsung kings of direct-to-video greatness. And even he is dim and poorly acted.

Wings.

QUARANTINE (2008)

On the thirteenth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... thirteen drooling, wheezing, and flesh hungry old ladies!

THE CARD:

Dexter’s sister, horny firefighters, pissed-off Dobermans, the gothy-est apartment building in L.A., hideous “kinda”-zombies, another chillingly awesome Doug Jones appearance, and a lack of Dramamine.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

The movie starts out with no credit sequence and cuts to a woman rehearsing an introduction directly into the camera. Angela Vidal (Jennifer Carpenter) is a news show reporter doing an innocuous day-in-the-life, or in this case a night-in-the-life, piece on the Los Angeles Fire Department. She and her intrepid cameraman team up with a pair of enthusiastic firemen, studly Jake (Jay Hernandez) and leering mustachioed Fletcher (Johnathon Schaech), for a guided tour of the firehouse. Unfortunately for Angela, it's a boring night as the trio play basketball, joke around with equipment, and generally occupy themselves waiting for something to happen. Fortunately, they don't have to wait long and rush to an emergency call at an apartment building where an old woman is apparently injured and screaming. The concerned residents of the building gather in the lobby, panicked at the disturbing sounds of agony emanating from upstairs. The firemen and the police find the old lady in her apartment confused, wheezing, and threatening. She then attacks one of the cops and rips the flesh from his neck and goobles some tasty cop neck goodness. When they try to remove the cop out of the building for medical attention, they suddenly find themselves locked inside by gun-wielding soldiers and the Centers for Disease Control. It quickly becomes apparent that they are facing a virus transmitted through bites from the infected that turns its victims vicious, bloodthirsty, and drooly. Everyone soon panics, mistrust and arguments ensue, people and pets disappear, the body count increases as the virus spreads, and impending feeling of doom is all captured on shaky video. As Angela, Jake, and the cameraman scramble for a way of the building, they stumble across the mystery of the virus, its terrifying origin, and a forgotten tenant wandering in the darkness. Waiting for them.

THE FINISHER:

Let’s dispense with the obligatory Blair Witch Project comparison. Yes, Quarantine is shot from a first person perspective. And yes, the hand-held camerawork may make you a little queasy after a while. And yes, it’s yet another remake of a foreign horror film, in this case Spain’s [REC], which I have not yet seen but plan to do so. So don’t be such a wuss and bitch and whine about presumptive derivation from said Blair Witch, the pitfalls of foreign remakes, and the distancing effects of the documentary style. Quarantine is a spooky, innovative, and suspenseful “zombie” film. The movie's approach increases the sense of immediacy and brings the action to the forefront without the necessity of exposition and story development, which may turn away most filmgoers. But narrative concerns aren't the primary forces at work in Quarantine. Horror fans will delight in the shocks that come at you left and right. Your senses will be assaulted as you squirm in your popcorn and poop your pants (slightly). The editing, lighting, and atmospherics are first-rate and the make-up and effects are impressive. The infected child and the “missing” tenant will keep you looking twice before walking down your apartment building hallway.

Despite a lackluster script, it's evident that director John Erick Dowdle let his actors improvise most of the dialog, which works until the firemen and cops fail to follow any kind of real-life protocol and begin acting like scared ninnies. And you should probably throw logic out the window and don’t question why the cameraman just doesn’t drop the camera and stop shooting. That’s an exercise in futility and you're completely missing the point of this movie. Unfortunately, there’s never enough time devoted to character development. We don't find a reason to care about or empathize for the characters, despite their terrifying dilemma. A particular standout is Carpenter (The Exorcism of Emily Rose) as Angela who despite a lot of exasperating, shrieking, and forced reactions comes off very strong in her first feature film lead role. I can’t tell you how much it deviates from the Spanish original, but it does owe a lot in style, tone, and structure to the more recent American release Cloverfield and probably signals more movies using this approach in different flavors of the horror genre. What's next, a hand-held mummy autopsy, the wolfman's amateur porn, or Transylvania's funniest home videos? Nevertheless, Quarantine is an intense thrill ride, playing out its premise like the ultimate haunted house attraction.

THE SIGHT (2000)

On the twelfth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... twelve blank Andrew McCarthy expressions!

THE CARD:

Middle aged Bratpacker settling into genre work, un-deadpan acting, Not-Randolph-Mantooth, sarcastic ghosts, the London Underground, Yank-psychic-hating Brit cops, and a cheery ol' kiddy slasher.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Andrew McCarthy romps once again with the dead, only this time Bernie is nowhere in sight. He's an architect who one morning, and for no apparent reason, wakes up with the ability to see and interact with the dead who roam the earth as nosy ghosts. His boss and only friend, played by Kevin Tighe (Emergency!, Lost), drags him to London to restore a spooky old hotel. Meanwhile, the city is being terrorized by a child killer who fashions himself after Jack the Ripper. Shadows and voices torment McCarthy when he is alone in the hotel, and he is soon visited by the ghost of James Bond past, aka Honor Blackman who appears as a recently deceased old broad who urges him to use his power to bring the killer to justice. Doubting himself and his power, he is stalked by a mysterious figure who threatens his life and claims he is not worthy of the talent bestowed upon him. As the days pass and McCarthy does nothing, more spirits including the child killer's victims, appear to harass him. Some other stuff happens, mostly TV show filler and non-essential dialog that they needed to pad out the film to a nice round ninety minutes. After several creepy encounters with victims of the killer, he teams up with a beautiful young woman ghost and her grumpy trench coat-wearing dead partner to aid Scotland Yard who immediately distrust his offer for help on case. With the help of his boss, the snoopy sarcastic spirits, and a female detective, McCarthy tracks down the killer, sends the dead kids to the Afterlife, and sets the stage for further psychic crime solving adventures.

THE FINISHER:

OK, so I'm a fan of director Paul W.S. Anderson (Resident Evil, Aliens vs. Predator, Death Race) who wrote and directed The Sight. And I know a lot of people who believe he's the second coming of Ed Wood, or worse, Michael Bay. So I won't bring my dissertation in defense of the man here. At least not now. Nevertheless I will state that The Sight is definitely not one of his better efforts, despite a rather solid cast and top notch visuals. The movie is watchable and not horrible, but it's not exactly engaging either. The main reason it fails is because it doesn't explain how McCarthy's character got these power, it also doesn't explain why we should care that McCarthy's character has to do the things he does. There is little depth or complexity in his character, and he and his buddy only enjoy a jokey relationship. He's like an empty vessel blessed with a power with no real urgency or motivation to use it, so the end result of the mystery solving leaves you sort of hollow. Now this may be a heavily edited version of an TV movie pilot with scenes from an episode or two to fill it out to feature length, but there's so little written about this thing that I cannot substantiate. I can confirm that the movie feels very uneven and there are story transitions that are awkward and confusing. Fortunately, Anderson went on to bigger and better projects, some loved, some hated. The Sight is a weaker version of USA's Dead Zone series, and succeeds at a few chills and a post-Weekend at Bernie's career highlight at best.