So - like I said earlier this week, I finished my new novel and have begun the arduous task of editing, rewriting, and fleshing it out. Then comes the hell of trying to get it published. My first novel was published based on pure luck... let's hope lightning strikes twice...
So, anyway, I've decided to go ahead and post up the short story I wrote a few years back that inspired the novel. It was originally included as a prologue to my novel, but I cut it because of various reasons, including the fact that; it didn't match the tone or narrative style of the novel, I wasn't pleased with the way it was written, and finally, that it was - truthfully - just too long for a prologue.
So - - as I'll probably never send it out to try and publish it, I figured I'd post it up on my site.
So, if you're feeling especially literary, and want to read a so-so short story, here it is.
I make no promises about spelling or grammatical errors... like I said, it became the basis for my new novel, and I pretty much left it as is once I started writing the new book...
Enjoy.
And so began the end of the world…
The town of Wisteria was a small bucolic place. It had a Main Street, a town square, and storefronts that hearkened back to the beginning of the nineteenth century. The Ladies Social Club maintained the obligatory wisteria trees that graced the small park in the town square, their grape-like flowers hanging heavily over manicured lawns and bright red, orange, and pink roses. A memorial statue dedicated to the young men who had given their lives in the last half dozen U.S. involved wars looked sorrowfully towards the south of the square. There, the Presbyterian Church cast a long, all day shadow on the small gazebo where the Shriner band played every Friday evening during the summer.
The side streets off of the square where all quaintly named after trees. Streets with names like Oak, Elm, Beech, and Birch ran quietly away from town, terminating in dead ends, cul-de-sacs and, in some cases, empty fields. On the east side of town, they ran for endless miles through corn fields and soy farms until they merged and emptied onto State Route 25. The side streets near town were populated by many gamble-roofed, Victorian style homes that slumbered beneath the thick, gnarled limbs of ancient trees. Flagstone walks led to immense porches with heavy, stained glass doors and foyers with high ceilings and real oak crown moldings. In the winter, radiator heat hissed in the large rooms and, year round, the floors creaked with age.
It was no different than any small town - save one thing.
Where Main Street crossed the Little ProsperityRiver, amidst the hulking and empty remains of several warehouses that perched over the brown, sluggish river waters - there was a newer building. It was a modern building. Its green, glass face glinting blindingly in the afternoon sun. It seemed out of place between the abandoned warehouses that once thrived in Industrial Revolution corpulence.
It was a research extension for the Centers for Disease Control. Rumors about its purpose ran the gamut from bio-weapons development to medical research. In truth, it was somewhere in between.
As night fell, and the evening stretched into night, something very bad was happening at the silent, green building near the river.
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Dr. Byron Walker was a brilliant, but eccentric, biologist. His specialty was contagious diseases and, in a lab in the basement of the research facility, he was working on pure evil. Working on grants provided by legitimate, if somewhat shadowy, government agencies, his objective had been simple - design and develop a virus that was genetically engineered to demoralize and destroy enemies of the United States
Dr. Walker had no qualms about his highly illegal work. In fact, he loved it. The idea that someday the world may very well go to hell in a hand basket appealed to him. He was an expert in contagious viruses and knew that it was only a matter of time before some terrorist in a turban walked into Times Square with an aerosol container of Anthrax, or Ebola, or Hanta, or any of a dozen other microscopic assassins. He was certain of it happening, and he was also certain that it would prove so destructive that the government would quickly not care about any silly little rules regarding ‘ethical’ warfare.
There would be retaliation, and it was very likely that Dr. Walker’s little bug would do the dirty work. And, it was his sole ambition and goal to ensure that he was responsible for designing the most monstrous, most effective, and most lethal virus to do so.
Walker Virus X would be the worst virus ever seen, thus earning him a place beside Nobel and Oppenheimer. Whereas immortality is something many scientists hunger for - Dr. Walker was starved for it. He worked twenty hour days and burned through lab assistants the way a chain smoker works his way through a pack of cigarettes. His quest was all consuming and there was no other facet of a normal adult life that appealed to or interested him.
Thus it was that he was alone in the lab on a Friday night, working late, when tragedy struck.
The most current incarnate of Walker Virus was part of batch number 117. Per CDC regulations, all contagious and lethal microorganisms were never directly touched by human hands. The Walker Virus was bred in a closed incubator, accessible by remote operated robot only. The glass incubator had several safeguards; including a powerful exhaust hood that would instantly turn the container into vacuum, radioactive lights to irradiate and kill any microbe, and a caustic chemical bath to kill anything else left. The scientists manipulated the Petri dishes, microscopes, and instruments through the use of a 'Waldo'; or a set of industrial strength, impermeable rubber gloves that prevented any human contact with the dangerous pathogens within the glass box.
Dr. Walker had moved a slide of the virus to the microscope and was examining it when he first felt the itch on his left ring finger. He thought nothing of it as he turned from the containment unit to take some notes. As he did so, the itch grew maddeningly worse, spreading to the palm of his hand. With a frown, Dr. Walker glanced at his palm as he got up.
He had to sit down again, a feeling of terror striking him like a bucket of ice water thrown in his face.
“God, no...” he whispered, studying the very visible spread of the virus across his hand. That was one of its attributes. It was a very visually distinct infection, as was requested by the government when they had contracted him.
Ever the scientist, his first thought was, ‘How...?’
He rushed to the containment unit and pulled the left glove inside out, studying the rubber on the left ring finger. With a sense of rage and indignation, he quickly deduced what had happened.
“That bitch!” he cursed, examining a worn part of the glove. He was referring to his newest lab assistant, a snobby graduate student who had only received the job because she had a father in Congress. She had recently acquired a too big engagement ring and worn it to work, reluctant to remove it for even an instant. She had known it was a direct violation of CDC protocol, but she was too wrapped up in the glory of snagging some Ivy League fiancée.
Her vanity was now going to kill Dr. Walker.
He sat on the floor abruptly, the realization of his situation striking him in its enormity. He looked at the tell-tale bluish-grey spread of the virus as it reproduced itself with frightening speed. That was the first sign of infection - the discoloration of skin and resultant itch. Already there was a painful numbness in his fingers and hand, like pins and needles as a limb slowly wakes up from being slept on. Accompanying that was an itch like ants were trying to crawl their way out of the skin of his arm. His left arm, to the elbow, was now infected.
He knew what would come next. He had, after all, designed it. The discoloration would eventually cover his entire body and his epidermis would die, falling off of his musculature like a snake shedding its own skin. But before all of that, the madness would come. The blind, angry, inhuman madness as the virus destroyed his mind and turned him into a subhuman killing machine.
He started sobbing as the horror fully gripped him, although the part of his brain that was logical, analytical, and always a scientist gave a small cry of surprise that it worked so quickly in human physiology.
Of course, that’s what he had designed it to do.
*************************************************************************************
An hour later, Dr. Walker was no longer really human. The thing that had been the doctor crept out of the lab and made its way through the dark, silent halls of the research building. It was drawn by a dark desire and fragments of its life of earlier that day. It came upon the security guard at the front door soundlessly. With a primeval and inarticulate cry, it fell upon the hapless guard as he dozed at his post. It fed for a time, but then grew restless again.
The creature stalked to the door and let itself out, setting off silent alarms. It stood on the marble steps, savoring the cool, rich scent of the night. The darkness called to it and it flinched at the brightness of the moon. Quickly, it turned from the lunar orb’s baleful gaze and searched the shadows about it. The brightness of lights to the south, and the smell of humanity drew him to Wisteria like a magnet. He grinned, a disturbing expression that was all blood and gore stained teeth.
Another side effect of the virus was a forced atavism; a reversion to a more primitive, primate state. Besides the obvious visual deformities his body was undergoing, besides the cannibalistic and homicidal impulses it felt, it also felt the desire to assert itself as an Alpha Male. It felt a need to sow its genetic material, to propogate, to breed. He needed a woman to slake this growing lust that filled him with rage and unrealized aggression.
What he sought lay in the direction of Wisteria.
Pushed by the perversions of the virus, he loped off into the darkness.
*************************************************************************************
The creature was almost mad with lust when it reached the town. The desire to find a woman was almost overwhelming and consumed what small part of its brain that was left. It was late, almost midnight. Wisteria was quiet and slumbered in that early way in which all small towns do. The monster padded past the small post office at the corner of Main and Oak Streets. In its run from the river it had shed its shoes and just as quickly forgotten it had done so. The creatures bare feet slapped on the concrete sidewalk, leaving a trail of bloody footprints from the already decomposing skin on the soles of its feet.
It ran on and stopped at the first house it came to, sniffing the air expectantly. It had caught the scent of a female and it snorted hungrily.
The monstrosity ran across a manicured lawn and around the side of the house, pausing again, searching in the moonlight. It finally found where the scent was coming from. An open window on the second floor, above the porch, beckoned to him. The odor of a fertile, ripe woman poured from the window like water over a dam. He was dizzy with desire, his heightened senses threatening overload at the overwhelmingly close, but still unattainable woman. With a harsh, sobbing moan, it ran to the rear of the house.
Wisteria, as in all small towns, did not believe in locking doors, and the creature that had once been Doctor Walker quietly crept through the house’s open screen door into a darkened kitchen.
Its prey was now within its grasp.
It padded soundlessly across the linoleum kitchen floor and down a hallway courteously lit with night lights. Taking the steps two at a time, it leapt on soundless bare feet to the second floor. The creature paused at the top of the steps, its nostrils flaring. It looked down the hall at a partially opened door, the flicker of candlelight barely visible at the crack. Lust rising in its blood like a drug, the creature reached down, tearing its already shredded clothes from its loins as it stalked towards the bedroom soundlessly. As it reached the door, though, it paused. There was another smell; a smell that had been drowned out by that of the woman.
There was another man in the house!
It knelt, pushing the door open with a hand that was covered in its own dripping blood and it saw them then.
They were on the bed, making love.
Their names were Dan and Kathy Barstow and they were still newlyweds. Dan was on top of her and she was below, and they were both near the peak.
The creature saw this all in an instant and was filled with an unimaginable black rage. Kathy moaned an encouragement to Dan; a low, husky sound of impending pleasure that goaded the monster that watched from the open doorway. The sound pushed the creature over the edge.
“’INE! ‘INE” It roared, its ruined lips now longer able to say the ‘m’ in ‘mine’.
It launched itself onto the bed, catching Dan by surprise. The two rolled off the far side of the bed as Kathy screaming in terror at the creature that could only have come from the darkest, most evil depths of hell.
Screaming inarticulately, the creature landed on top of Dan and began tearing at him and biting him. Dan, still in shock, was unable to mount any kind of defense and screamed in horror at the monster that straddled and assaulted him.
In an instant, the creature bit down on Dan’s throat. Sharp teeth dug in, piercing Dan’s windpipe and carotid artery. There was a gasp of escaping air and the spurting, rhythmic spray of bright pink arterial blood. An arc of blood sprayed the end table and struck one of the candles there, extinguishing it with a hiss. Dan was dead within seconds.
The monster looked up from its victim and looked at Kathy with a lipless and gaping jack-o-lantern grin; Dan’s blood still shiny on its cadaverous face.
With a scream, Kathy turned and ran from the room, skidding on the throw rug in the hall way. The sight of her nakedness was like a cattle prod on the consciousness of the monster and it was after her as if it had been shot from a cannon.
The beast caught her in the hallway, leaping on her back and pounding her to the hardwood floor painfully. It savaged and raped her there, in the darkened hall.
*************************************************************************************
It was sometime later that Kathy awoke to find the creature snoring in exhaustion on top of her. Surprisingly, Kathy Barstow was not dead, even after an eternity of hell, even after the monster had so savagely abused and raped her
Kathy slid out from under its filthy bulk. The only sound in the hallway was the creature’s guttural snoring and the snuffle of Kathy’s breathing as she tried to take in air through her broken, bloody nose. She was dizzy and disoriented from the blows she had received and she felt a burning wetness between her legs. She also felt her insides roll unnaturally. She could tell she was not right internally, and knew she was seriously injured from the beast’s attack. With all of her strength, she pulled herself slowly across the hall floor. She almost screamed with the pain of it and her vision grew fuzzy.
There was something broken inside of her, something seriously wrong. She sobbed and winced, panted and cried at the agony and the hurt she felt, forcing herself to keep crawling. She knew she should have stayed still, and she was certain that her struggle was further ripping the internal injuries that assailed her with wave after wave of pain, but she also knew she had to get away from the thing that had killed Dan and had so badly mauled her.
She had made her way to the top step of the stairs, her broken and leaking body trailing an unbelievably wide path of blood behind her, when the monster awoke. It stopped snoring and abruptly sat up, looking at her with red eyes and an oozing, pus covered face.
Its skin was falling off in wet, dripping sheets. It was like the skin of wax on a recently extinguished candle and, as the creature turned towards her, a piece of its face fell to the floor with a soft, moist plop.
It grinned at her and rolled onto all fours, coming for her again.
It took Kathy Barstow a very long time to die...
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To the government’s credit, it only took them a few hours to respond to the alarms Dr. Walker had tripped when he had left the building earlier that night. In conjunction with the CDC, the government agency responsible for Dr. Walker’s research had been prepared for this sort of tragedy and there was a contingency plan already in place.
A coded, encrypted call was made by the CDC director in the field to the commanding officer of a special army unit at Fort Bragg. This military unit was composed of specialists in anti-terrorism - specifically biological terrorism. The members of this team also held the highest possible security clearance that military personnel could hold and were the ultimate ‘problem solvers’. They did work the other elite military areas, like the Navy SEALS or Army Recon, couldn’t legally do.
They were efficient and deadly.
Within an hour of Dr. Walker’s escape, the response team was aboard a specially designed Concorde that was utilized by their unit for just such an emergency. They were briefed about what they were faced with and shown security video of what was left of Doctor Walker as he scurried from his lab, killed and ate the guard, and then boldly walked out of the research facility.
Even as hardened as the soldiers were, the nature of Dr. Walker’s pathogen was difficult to reconcile and even harder to contemplate having to face; but that’s what they were trained to do. They were on the ground with a half an hour of activation and at the CDC facility within another.
The team leader, Captain Christopher Woods, immediately ordered his men to secure the perimeter of the town.
They began hunting.
Quarantine restrictions were established and road blocks were thrown up, sealing the town up. The CDC and Army commandeered the gymnasium at the Rutherford B. Hayes Elementary School and began setting it up as a temporary hospital, and Captain Woods’ men continued the hunt.
They quickly found the course the monster had taken and established with certainty that he was within a one block area. A secondary perimeter was set up and plans were implemented to begin a house to house search. They quickly found the home of Dan and Kathy Barstow. Lieutenant Joe Garcia the team leader, radioed his superior officer.
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Woods’ radio squawked in his ear. He was standing at a table in the post office examining a map of the town. He had commandeered the building as his de facto command center.
“Go ahead, Garcia,” he replied.
“I’ve got the trail. Subject has been located, sir.”
Woods sighed, switching his radio so that all of his men could hear him, “Garcia, you and Alpha Team have the ball. Bravo Team, assist Alpha Team if they call for backup. They’ve got a definite ID and will lead the pursuit. Alpha Team, relay your position if it changes.”
“Yes, sir!” his men all responded in unison. They were professionals and, despite the horror they were inevitably going to face tonight, they remained professionals. Woods was proud of them. Garcia and his team moved in for the kill. Woods, meanwhile, jumped into the nearest HMMV and raced to the search perimeter.
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The creature returned from the bedroom, where it had been snacking on Dan’s corpse. It wiped a bloody hand across its bloody maw. The monster’s face had mostly sloughed off, leaving glistening muscle and white eyes peering about madly. The effect of this unnatural molting gave the impression that the bottom portion of the creatures face was mostly gore stained teeth. Some unforeseen mutation of the virus was twisting its bones, elongating them. It was a nightmare made real.
It shuffled down the hall towards the woman, but wrinkled its nose at her. She was quite dead and cold, her limbs twisted in the beginning throes of rigor mortis. It pushed her belly with a sharp finger, piercing the skin there. The lust was coming upon it again and it needed to find another woman. The creature knelt and licked some coagulating blood from Cathy’s navel, snorting and grimacing at the coldness of it. It was time to hunt again.
Suddenly it heard a sound downstairs.
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Slowly, Garcia and Rogers entered the house, their breathing sounding harsh and strident in the enclosed space of their helmets. Close behind, covering the insertion, were Katz and the team medic, Kosminski.
“Backup teams, close the perimeter up. I don’t want this thing slipping out!” Woods ordered. There were four additional four man teams and they all took up positions at the four corners of the house, watching for any sign of an escape attempt. They were also fastidiously mindful of their crossfire. It wouldn’t do to shoot one another. Woods was getting ready to radio Garcia and ask for a report when the shooting started.
There was the sustained fire of silenced machine guns. Unlike those portrayed in the movies, a silenced gun is only slightly less quiet than a regular gun. The dampening got worse as additional rounds are fired through the silencers until it is as if they are nonexistent. The same went for flash suppressers and, as the shooting went on and on and became louder and louder, the windows were lit by the muzzle flashes of the MP5’s.
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Within an hour, the CDC had secured the neighborhood and begun the elaborate cover up of the night’s events. After decontamination and an in-field debriefing with the CDC and Woods’ superiors, Woods and his men were ordered to stand down. Woods turned control over to the CDC and he and his men were ordered back to Fort Bragg.
As they boarded the black plane that was to take them home, Woods addressed the men.
“It’s been a hard night, men,” he said over the whine of the plane’s engines as they warmed up, “Although it doesn’t feel like it, we won a battle for the good guys tonight. I’ve got the first round when we get back to base, boys.”
“Hoo-rah!” the men called back, laughing and slapping each other in congratulations. Woods smiled back, recognizing that they were still keyed up from the mission and needed to blow off some steam. In fact, he was pretty sure he himself would need a few drinks to dull the memory of the video tapes and the aftermath of the Doctor’s spree.
Before he sat down, he glanced at Garcia. He saw that his right hand man was not joining in the post-battle celebrations. Lieutenant Garcia was staring out the window, shivering slightly. Woods let it go; believing that Garcia was dealing with what he had had to do that night. He decided to give his lieutenant some room.
That was the biggest mistake he could have made.
*************************************************************************************
Garcia looked out the window, and then looked down at his shaking hands. His skin itched something terrible and his veins seemed to be darker and bluer than normal. He thought it must have been the lighting in the plane. Either way, he didn’t feel well.
Unknown to all of them, Garcia’s bio- suit from earlier in the night had had a bad seam and was not completely airtight. Given the transmission nature of the Walker X virus, that shouldn’t have been a problem. However, Doctor Walker’s true genius lay in the mutability of his work. As the virus had percolated in the late Doctor’s gory, misshapen body; it had changed and gone beyond even its creator’s darkest desires.
It had become airborne.
And Garcia’s faulty hazmat suit had allowed the virus entry.
*************************************************************************************
It took the plane over an hour to reach Fort Bragg in North Carolina. In the hours between Garcia’s initial infection, his subsequent exposure to the team, and the long flight; the entire team had been infected, and began tearing each other to shreds. The pilot and co-pilot themselves were dragged screaming from their seats, torn to pieces and fed upon by what was once the tactical team. The plane, on autopilot, returned to Fort Bragg, but then simply flew in programmed circles.
For several tense hours, the control tower tried to contact the plane, but it would only occasionally get crackling static or the more disturbing sound of snarls and growls and screams. They could do nothing, only watch as the plane circled about the base, waiting for the inevitable. When the unavoidable happened and the plane ran out of gas, it plummeted to the ground carrying its howling, gibbering, deadly cargo.
The crash, unfortunately, did not kill all of the occupants. Two of the former Special Ops team; Garcia, and a corporal named Braddick; crawled from the wreckage just as the Search and Rescue teams arrived. Braddick tried to attack the emergency teams and was just as quickly shot and killed.
Garcia, however, slunk away through tall grass and kudzu covered undergrowth, wincing at the bright searchlights that were even now being poured over the crash sight. Being farther gone, and more driven by the urge to mate, Garcia went seeking a different prey.
His skin had long since fallen off and his bones had warped and twisted so much that he was unrecognizable as anything human. His teeth, had elongated and sharpened and his exposed muscles oozed a constant blood and pus. The virus had so twisted his mind that his thoughts were no longer even thoughts. He was an evil, instinct driven monster that might have crawled from the nearest hell of one’s preferred religion. The blood that oozed off of him, like his entire body, teamed with the Walker X virus. His very breath was an invisible, steamy cloud of pathogens and infection.
None of this mattered to the creature that was once Garcia. All it cared about was the smell of women that arose from the town before it.
He loped into the town, infection following behind him like some dark, evil cape.
*************************************************************************************
As the dawn of September 18th rose over the town of some 15,000 people, the infection caught and spread. Those who weren’t killed or eaten were themselves infected. The horrifying work of Doctor Byron Walker spread across the countryside like a cancer, growing and metastasizing.
A police officer, who had killed a disease victim on his front lawn, passed the infection to several people he later stopped at a CDC roadblock.
Those people drove on, infecting several others at a rest area.
Those people took the infection with them on the road.
Soon, two towns were infected, then three, and then counties, and then entire states.
A businessman, having drank infected water, boarded a plane to Germany. The plane, like the military transport that had killed Captain Woods’ team, crash-landed outside of Berlin.
The infection then began its march across Europe.
It all happened so quickly that no medical, law enforcement, or government agency could move quick enough to stop it. There efforts to do so were as ineffectual as shouting into the swirling, black winds of chaos.
And so began the end of the world...
Taking over the world... one undead soul at a time.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Movie Review - 28 Weeks Later (2007)
This by the numbers sequel to Danny Boyle’s genre reinvigorating outing, 28 Days Later, is a mix of good and bad. I found myself delighted with some scenes, and completely disappointed with others. Whereas conflicting emotions or impressions are something to be strived for in the case of some films; cinematic schizophrenia – as is the case here - is not.
And that’s how I felt watching this. It felt like I was watching two movies, neither of which the director could decide on – so he just did both.
The plot revolves around the – obvious – 28 weeks after the Rage Virus has been unleashed on an unsuspecting England. Within a few weeks of the initial outbreak all of the infected have died of starvation, and the US military has moved in at the behest of the UN to restore order and begin the resettlement of England.
The actual film starts during the initial Rage infection with the characters of Alice and Donald Harris(played by Catherine McCormack and the always kick ass Robert Carlyle).They are holed up in a farmhouse in the English countryside with other survivors, trying to survive in a world gone mad. Their refuge is compromised, however, by the appearance of a small boy who brings with him scores of raving, psychotic, Rage-infected cannibals. In a heart-wrenching scene, Donald runs in terror, leaving his wife to die at the hands of the infected.
The film fast-forwards to the return to England of Donald’s children, Tammy and Andy (played by Imogen Poots and Mackintosh Muggleton. And yes. I’m serious. Those are their names. Seriously.). During the initial outbreak, they had been on a class trip to the continent and now are returning to find their father in charge of maintenance at the secure base where the US Army has started to settle the survivors. Donald lies to them, telling them that their mother is dead and that he could do nothing to save her.
In a strange turn of events, their mother is not dead. She is found and, due to a strange genetic anomaly shared by her son, she has been infected - but not afflicted - by the virus. She is a carrier and it is only a matter of time before the virus is re-released and the terror starts all over again.
When I’d said I had conflicting feelings about this film, it’s important to realize how much I enjoyed 28 Days Later. Danny Boyle’s original movie was an instant zombie classic and it was largely responsible for the resurgence in popularity of zombie films in the early part of the decade. It showed studios that zombies were a viable moneymaker and, as a result, Zack Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead (2004) was green lighted. In fact, if not for 28 Days Later, the great George Romero would not have been given the go ahead for Land of the Dead. So, with that being said, it’s important to look at 28 Days Later in the context of what it was responsible for.
In addition to that, it was just a great concept.
I am not a zombie purist. I don’t believe that all zombies should be shambling, mindless shells. 28 Days Later showed how absolutely scary running zombies could be. (And yes – I know that the infected in these movies weren’t zombies. And yes I know they were alive, so you can shut the fuck up. They were zombies, just not like we were used to seeing. Look at it in the context of what they did FOR zombie flicks.) The Night of the Living Dead 1990 version illustrated how slow, shambling zombies weren’t as much of a challenge to evade.
Running, unstoppable zombies – now that’s some scary shit!
Additionally, the best part about the Rage Virus was that it lent some actual reality to the genre. The dead coming back from the deadbecause of voodoo, contamination by particles from space, or a cracked container of Trioxin are completely fictional. A virus that drives people insane, cannibalistic, and fills them with unimaginable rage is different. That’s something that could be sitting in some government lab right now! Chilling and creepy!
And it is all of these things, when combined with the precedent set by 28 Days Later, that makes 28 Weeks Later a lesser film. 28 Days Later gave a glimpse into how unadulterated rage impacts a country that is, culturally, very reserved. And not that I’m trying to paint Brits with a large, stereotypical brush; but the loss of control the Rage virus represented was anathema to English emotional reserve. And Boyle showed that with the despair his characters felt.
Not so in this film.
28 Weeks Later is, at its heart, an action film that just happens to take place in London. When you take a country that has little – if any – personal gun ownership, and drop in US Special Forces with AR15’s, 1911’s, and Chey-tac .50 caliber sniper rifles; you lose some of the impact.
Also, the original had an intellectual quality to it that touched on things like animal rights, the social implications of a catastrophe on a national psyche, and the existential meaning of being human; this movie was all about waiting for the next trite action sequence, or thinly veiled swipe at the US military and the current state of US foreign policy (which I’m okay with to some extent. Quite honestly, we’ve gotten ourselves into our current political and military shitstorm, so it's our own fault. Just don’t beat me over the head with it.)
Oddly enough, I felt that I’d seen this film before. And that is because it had many of the same anti-government, anti-military themes we’ve seen a hundred times before. The closest amalgam to this I can think of would be George Romero’s little known film, The Crazies. In fact, 28 Weeks Later was close enough to Romero’s film in plot, story, and social commentary regarding the military/industrial complex that I would be willing to lay money that director Juan Carlos Fresnadillo had to have watched it prior to filming this.
So, what were the bright spots in this film? The brightest was Robert Carlyle, who has yet to disappoint me in any role he’s taken. The terrifying opening scene where he is forced to leave his wife, and then runs in utter horror and panic from the overwhelming onslaughts of Ragers was absolutely brilliant. This opening scene was so well done in fact, that the rest of the movie could only try – and fail miserably– to live up to it. What I enjoy about any Robert Carlyle performance is the expressiveness of his eyes. No other actor out there can convey so much horror, anger, pain, or despair with only their eyes. And his character Donald is a study in guilt and sorrow.
Additionally, the scenes where the Army gasses the streets of London where beautifully rendered, but they too were not as effective as the original films scenes of a deserted London, or horses running in a field.
So, in the final analysis, it’s unfair to say that I didn’t enjoy the movie. But, much like I said the other day when looking at the Resident Evil series, the horror of this film took a back seat to the action. In that respect, and looking at it as an action film, I enjoyed the movie. But the sequel pales in comparison to its predecessor and doesn’t really add to the story, which is what I was looking for it to do. As is so unfortunately common, it had the feel of a big studio sequel that ignored what made the independent original so great. It lacked a compelling story and what little story there was dwarfed by the need to get to the action and let the infection spread again. It became less about the human qualities of the characters and more about the really cool CGI effects.
Sadly, I will probably not own this. There is little, if any, reason to motivate me to purchase a inferior sequel that even a director’s cut can’t fix. Perhaps if Boyle had taken the reigns instead of simply producing, it would have been a better movie… but sadly that didn’t happen.
And that kind of sucks…
So, skip it at the theater (if its still there…) and wait for a DVD rental. You’ll watch it once, say, “Meh. It was okay,” and then just as quickly forget about it.
Doctor Zombie’s Rating: 2 out of 5 Chomped Brains!!!
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Some great movie news!
Some quick news that I had to get up and on the site for all of my fellow horror fiends!
Doctor Creepy over at Dread Central just broke the news that Guillermo Del Toro is moving ahead with his version of HP Lovecraft's At The Mountains of Madness!!! I absolutely love all of Del Toro's work and - if there's any director out there today I could pick to do a Lovecraft adaptation - Guillermo's the hombre!
There have been so many attempts to capture Lovecraft's genius on celluloid over the years - and where only a few have actually succeeded (Yuzna's Reanimator, From Beyond, and the incomparable Dagon) - most have been downright abortive in their efforts. Del Toro though is the first director to actually make me feel as though it could be done. I've referred to it before, but I think that scene at the end of Hellboy - when the ultimate evil descends upon earth from the cold wastes of space - encapsulates all that is Lovecraftian. When I saw Hellboy for the first time, I squealed in geekish joy at the horror that Del Toro created and I knew that - someday - he'd get the opportunity to do a full Lovecraft adaptation. And that day has come. Del Toro gets it and if I didn't know better, I'd say he spent some part of his young adult life as I did - sitting in a dark and candlelit room, eating chips, role playing Call of Cthulhu, and battling the insane minions of the Elder Gods and the Great Old Ones.
Combine his ability to capture the sheer, sanity-shattering horror of the Cthulhu mythos with his breathtaking ability to film the surreal and beautiful (as he did in Pan's Labrynth) - and you've got a sure thing, my fellow gorehounds. I'm all twittery and giggly thinking about it!
And - if you have no idea what I'm talking about here, I command you to go the book store and pick up a copy of HP Lovecraft's short stories (preferably something with the longer novella, At The Mountains of Madness). If you've never experienced the joy and wonder that is Lovecraft, you are in for a treat! I can't make any promises that you won't lose your mind or feel the oppressive horror of a cold night sky - because somewhere out there, in the depths of space and time, are things that are cold and alien. Things that care not one whit for the insignificant race that is man. Things that are the stuff of eldritch evil and that are always, always hungry.
You have been warned...
Also speaking of the master, Lovecraft... a few months back, I won a copy of a DVD from the spooky guys over at Goblinhaus. It was a low budget Biff Juggernaut production called Lovecracked. It was basically a compilation of Lovecraft inspired low budget, indepndent, amateur films. Some were comedy, others were more serious.
They were all bad.
I'd been planning on writing a review of it, but completely forgot to as the low quality and extremely bad scripting/humor of the connecting scenes was cringe-worthy. There are ways to do Lovecraft, and there are ways not to do Lovecraft. And - big hint - if your budget is less than a $1000; stay the fuck away from Lovecraft. Seriously.
Let me sum it up more succintly. To give you an idea of the caliber of this compilation, I've got two words for you
Zombie. Porn.
That's right, there was a porn version of The Reanimator on it called.... wait for it... The Repenetrator. And that was the highlight of the DVD.
Yikes.
So, what else...
Oh yeah - I forgot to mention that, when I saw Zombie's Halloween a few weeks back, there was a trailer for a film adaptation of Stephen King's Mist. This is a story I've been dying to see made into a movie for more than 10 or 15 years. It is one of my favorite Stephen King works and it also has Lovecraftian overtones. King's track record for movie adaptations has been equally as abysmal as that of Lovecraft, with only a few standouts (Kubrick's The Shining, The original Salem's Lot miniseries, The Stand miniseries, and Pet Semtary come to mind). Of course, his non-horror stories have faired much better (The Green Mile, The Shawshank Redemption), but few have captured the feel of King's work. And don't even get me started on his own, made for television scripts... yeccch!
Please don't let this suck...
Some great movies on the horizon, also...
October 19th is the release of 30 Days of Night. I actually picked up the novel adaptation of this last spring. I grabbed it because it had some really great cover art and I liked the ide a of vampires taking advantage of the extreme northern winter. It reminded me of a great comic I'd read as a child about just that sort of thing. It was in a Tales From the Crypt, or some other similar horror comic that I seemed to live on as a child (which may explain quite a bit about who I am today, but I digress...) It's a brilliant idea - combining the loneliness of Carpenter's The Thing with the blood sucking goodness of nosferatu overcoming their biggest weakness. I've heard some great things about this flick and, hopefully, I'll be catching it soon...
And I'm also slightly embarassed to say I haven't actually caught the new Resident Evil yet. Time has been something of an issue lately and, truth be told, the series has kind of been a let down. Now I'm not saying that I feel the RE movies are bad - quite the opposite, actually. I enjoy them immensely. The reason I enjoy them though is based in the reality that they are primarily action films. The zombies and horror take a backseat to the heavy metal music and Milla Jovovich kicking ass in all of her brain melting sexiness. And I love Milla with all of my undead soul... its just I'd like to see more brain chomping and less tactical weaponry. The RE games rocked because of the horror and the ambience of the locations. RE1 did a good job of capturing some of this - before it devolved into a rock video - and RE2 threw away any pretense of being anything BUT an action film... but I'd still like to see more horror, ya know? So I may try to catch it this weekend.
So much to do...so few places to hide the mutilated bodies. Sigh.
Doctor Creepy over at Dread Central just broke the news that Guillermo Del Toro is moving ahead with his version of HP Lovecraft's At The Mountains of Madness!!! I absolutely love all of Del Toro's work and - if there's any director out there today I could pick to do a Lovecraft adaptation - Guillermo's the hombre!
There have been so many attempts to capture Lovecraft's genius on celluloid over the years - and where only a few have actually succeeded (Yuzna's Reanimator, From Beyond, and the incomparable Dagon) - most have been downright abortive in their efforts. Del Toro though is the first director to actually make me feel as though it could be done. I've referred to it before, but I think that scene at the end of Hellboy - when the ultimate evil descends upon earth from the cold wastes of space - encapsulates all that is Lovecraftian. When I saw Hellboy for the first time, I squealed in geekish joy at the horror that Del Toro created and I knew that - someday - he'd get the opportunity to do a full Lovecraft adaptation. And that day has come. Del Toro gets it and if I didn't know better, I'd say he spent some part of his young adult life as I did - sitting in a dark and candlelit room, eating chips, role playing Call of Cthulhu, and battling the insane minions of the Elder Gods and the Great Old Ones.
Combine his ability to capture the sheer, sanity-shattering horror of the Cthulhu mythos with his breathtaking ability to film the surreal and beautiful (as he did in Pan's Labrynth) - and you've got a sure thing, my fellow gorehounds. I'm all twittery and giggly thinking about it!
And - if you have no idea what I'm talking about here, I command you to go the book store and pick up a copy of HP Lovecraft's short stories (preferably something with the longer novella, At The Mountains of Madness). If you've never experienced the joy and wonder that is Lovecraft, you are in for a treat! I can't make any promises that you won't lose your mind or feel the oppressive horror of a cold night sky - because somewhere out there, in the depths of space and time, are things that are cold and alien. Things that care not one whit for the insignificant race that is man. Things that are the stuff of eldritch evil and that are always, always hungry.
You have been warned...
Also speaking of the master, Lovecraft... a few months back, I won a copy of a DVD from the spooky guys over at Goblinhaus. It was a low budget Biff Juggernaut production called Lovecracked. It was basically a compilation of Lovecraft inspired low budget, indepndent, amateur films. Some were comedy, others were more serious.
They were all bad.
I'd been planning on writing a review of it, but completely forgot to as the low quality and extremely bad scripting/humor of the connecting scenes was cringe-worthy. There are ways to do Lovecraft, and there are ways not to do Lovecraft. And - big hint - if your budget is less than a $1000; stay the fuck away from Lovecraft. Seriously.
Let me sum it up more succintly. To give you an idea of the caliber of this compilation, I've got two words for you
Zombie. Porn.
That's right, there was a porn version of The Reanimator on it called.... wait for it... The Repenetrator. And that was the highlight of the DVD.
Yikes.
So, what else...
Oh yeah - I forgot to mention that, when I saw Zombie's Halloween a few weeks back, there was a trailer for a film adaptation of Stephen King's Mist. This is a story I've been dying to see made into a movie for more than 10 or 15 years. It is one of my favorite Stephen King works and it also has Lovecraftian overtones. King's track record for movie adaptations has been equally as abysmal as that of Lovecraft, with only a few standouts (Kubrick's The Shining, The original Salem's Lot miniseries, The Stand miniseries, and Pet Semtary come to mind). Of course, his non-horror stories have faired much better (The Green Mile, The Shawshank Redemption), but few have captured the feel of King's work. And don't even get me started on his own, made for television scripts... yeccch!
Please don't let this suck...
Some great movies on the horizon, also...
October 19th is the release of 30 Days of Night. I actually picked up the novel adaptation of this last spring. I grabbed it because it had some really great cover art and I liked the ide a of vampires taking advantage of the extreme northern winter. It reminded me of a great comic I'd read as a child about just that sort of thing. It was in a Tales From the Crypt, or some other similar horror comic that I seemed to live on as a child (which may explain quite a bit about who I am today, but I digress...) It's a brilliant idea - combining the loneliness of Carpenter's The Thing with the blood sucking goodness of nosferatu overcoming their biggest weakness. I've heard some great things about this flick and, hopefully, I'll be catching it soon...
And I'm also slightly embarassed to say I haven't actually caught the new Resident Evil yet. Time has been something of an issue lately and, truth be told, the series has kind of been a let down. Now I'm not saying that I feel the RE movies are bad - quite the opposite, actually. I enjoy them immensely. The reason I enjoy them though is based in the reality that they are primarily action films. The zombies and horror take a backseat to the heavy metal music and Milla Jovovich kicking ass in all of her brain melting sexiness. And I love Milla with all of my undead soul... its just I'd like to see more brain chomping and less tactical weaponry. The RE games rocked because of the horror and the ambience of the locations. RE1 did a good job of capturing some of this - before it devolved into a rock video - and RE2 threw away any pretense of being anything BUT an action film... but I'd still like to see more horror, ya know? So I may try to catch it this weekend.
So much to do...so few places to hide the mutilated bodies. Sigh.
Want Some Free Halloween Stuff?
I've been reviewing some of my past Halloween links, and saw where I put together a list of my favorite Halloween related songs last year. I even offered to send out copies to anybody who wanted a Doctor Zombie Halloween Mix of Terror CD.
I wanted to extend that offer once again this year.
I'm tweaking the songs a bit, and adding or removing some of them, but I am close to having the final Halloween mix put together.
So - if you want some Halloween themed music to get you in the mood, or - like I do - you need some background music with which to torture victims with - this is the grooviest, coolest mix with which to do it.
Just drop me an email at doctorzombie@oh.rr.com and I'll get you a copy burned and mailed before Halloween. I'll even pick up shipping - because I got a connection who can take care of that for me for free!
I wanted to extend that offer once again this year.
I'm tweaking the songs a bit, and adding or removing some of them, but I am close to having the final Halloween mix put together.
So - if you want some Halloween themed music to get you in the mood, or - like I do - you need some background music with which to torture victims with - this is the grooviest, coolest mix with which to do it.
Just drop me an email at doctorzombie@oh.rr.com and I'll get you a copy burned and mailed before Halloween. I'll even pick up shipping - because I got a connection who can take care of that for me for free!
Friday, September 28, 2007
I've been bad...
...about posting lately. Sorry about that dear readers.
I've actually been really busy with finishing my newest novel. I'm within a chapter or so of wrapping it up, finally. With work, real life, and everything else dog-piling me lately - it's been hard to stay focused and just get the damn thing done. I do have to say that I am not looking forward to the monumental pain in the ass it's going to be to try and find and agent and/or a publisher who'll be interested in publishing it. I learned a lot with my last novel - - mostly how I absolutely don't want this novel to be published. I need a publisher who will help me get publicity for it, and not leave the onus of arranging signings and shit up to me.
I do have to say I was a lot younger when my first novel was published, and it was also at a time in my life when things were crazy (I had only been married a couple years, had a 1 year old boy, and a new born baby girl). Not exactly the most conducive time to try and get publicity for my book, and I think that's why I made all of about $38 dollars in royalties on it and it never got even any local press coverage. Had a couple book signings though. That was cool, I guess...
So, I need to finish it, and start looking for an agent. I think that an agent's the only way I'm going to get what I want from my writing (I.E. -some fame and at least enough mney for me to think, "Maybe I can quit my job and write full time?" before quickly dismissing it and just being happy with the fame).
My newest novel is a survival horror piece, by the way. I'll most likely be finishing the first draft within a week or two and then begin the arduous task of rewriting and editing, and then the real hell begins. And please don't act all surprised when I pimp it like a motherfucker on here when it's ready.
Sorry about that.
In other personal writing news, I was notified about a month and a half ago that one of my thesis papers won an award and will be published in a Cleveland State University publication. That's kind of cool. Although I love my creative writing, there's something cool about having my analytical writing recognized. It adds to the literary prestige, bitches! The article, by the way is called First Person Confirmations of Elizabeth's Perspective in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.
Oooh! Gives you goosebumps, huh? It's a riveting analysis of narrative perspective. Really. Seriously. (Don't think I don't hear you all yawning out there! Worms! I won't forget this slight. I'll remember your dismissing my intellectual contributions to literary analysis when I rule the world - and we'll see who's sorry then!)
But I digress.
Couple quick links I found that are just really cool...
Over at Dread Central - there's an interview with Rob Zombie about his upcoming cartoon, The Haunted Adventures of El Superbeasto. I'm really looking forward to this as it looks absolutely insane. I read the original Zombie comic books where El Superbeasto made his first appearance and I've been a fan of the character ever since then. El Superbeasto, by the way, is a retired luchadore wrestler who battles the forces of evil with the help of his barely clothed and sexy sister. As Zombie says, "It's like if Spongebob Squarepants took place in a world full of monsters and strippers and was made for adults". While I'd argue that Spongebob WAS indeed made for adults, the rest of his description is spot on. After the disappointment that was Halloween, I hope Rob redeems himself with this - hopefully - NC-17 cartoon gore fest. Come on, Rob. Don't let me down, buddy!
I also saw this article over on Stupid Evil Bastard. While I agree that having Patrick Stewart do an appearance on Dr. Who would rock at a sub-atomic level... what excited me more was the revelation that he and David Tennant are performing Hamlet together with the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford next summer. The Doctor will be playing the title role ("Get thee to a TARDIS, Why wouldst thou be a breeder of Daleks?"), while Jean Luc Picard will be playing Hamlet's Uncle, Claudius ("Oh, my offense is rank! It smells to Heaven! Make it so!". The English Literature major within me is abolutely mind melding with the unrepentant sci-fi geek that shares space with it in my soul! I'm in agony here. Besides seeing the RSC - in fucking Stratford - but actually combining that with Dr. Who and Star Trek actors?!?! I feel like I'm going to explode.
Mrs. Zombie and I went to England for our honeymoon and my one regret when we went is that we never made it to Stratford. We spent the whole week in London (which is befitting of a trip to England's capitol. One could spend 2 weeks there and still not see and do it all). We took the time to see the Phantom of the Opera at Her Majesty's Theater in the Strand - which was awesome. But MY love and passion is Elizabethan drama (and what I expect my specialization will be when I get my Master's in English Lit)I'd wished we'd had the time and money to see a Shakespearan play.
And then this news rears its beautifully geekish head.
Next year's our ten year anniversary, and I know that money's tight - but gods I wish I could convince Mrs. Zombie to fly to England for 3 or 4 days so we could catch a performance next summer. I'm looking for suggestions as to how I can convince her to indulge this completely unrealistic wish. Anybody got any suggestions for me? Is there anyone out there who can please give me some guidance as to how I can swing the $1000 or so dollars to fly there, catch a show, and NOT get arrested trying to get photos and autographs from the Doctor AND Professor X.?!? And keep my marriage intact?!?
Let Doctor Zombie's scheming begin...
I've actually been really busy with finishing my newest novel. I'm within a chapter or so of wrapping it up, finally. With work, real life, and everything else dog-piling me lately - it's been hard to stay focused and just get the damn thing done. I do have to say that I am not looking forward to the monumental pain in the ass it's going to be to try and find and agent and/or a publisher who'll be interested in publishing it. I learned a lot with my last novel - - mostly how I absolutely don't want this novel to be published. I need a publisher who will help me get publicity for it, and not leave the onus of arranging signings and shit up to me.
I do have to say I was a lot younger when my first novel was published, and it was also at a time in my life when things were crazy (I had only been married a couple years, had a 1 year old boy, and a new born baby girl). Not exactly the most conducive time to try and get publicity for my book, and I think that's why I made all of about $38 dollars in royalties on it and it never got even any local press coverage. Had a couple book signings though. That was cool, I guess...
So, I need to finish it, and start looking for an agent. I think that an agent's the only way I'm going to get what I want from my writing (I.E. -some fame and at least enough mney for me to think, "Maybe I can quit my job and write full time?" before quickly dismissing it and just being happy with the fame).
My newest novel is a survival horror piece, by the way. I'll most likely be finishing the first draft within a week or two and then begin the arduous task of rewriting and editing, and then the real hell begins. And please don't act all surprised when I pimp it like a motherfucker on here when it's ready.
Sorry about that.
In other personal writing news, I was notified about a month and a half ago that one of my thesis papers won an award and will be published in a Cleveland State University publication. That's kind of cool. Although I love my creative writing, there's something cool about having my analytical writing recognized. It adds to the literary prestige, bitches! The article, by the way is called First Person Confirmations of Elizabeth's Perspective in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.
Oooh! Gives you goosebumps, huh? It's a riveting analysis of narrative perspective. Really. Seriously. (Don't think I don't hear you all yawning out there! Worms! I won't forget this slight. I'll remember your dismissing my intellectual contributions to literary analysis when I rule the world - and we'll see who's sorry then!)
But I digress.
Couple quick links I found that are just really cool...
Over at Dread Central - there's an interview with Rob Zombie about his upcoming cartoon, The Haunted Adventures of El Superbeasto. I'm really looking forward to this as it looks absolutely insane. I read the original Zombie comic books where El Superbeasto made his first appearance and I've been a fan of the character ever since then. El Superbeasto, by the way, is a retired luchadore wrestler who battles the forces of evil with the help of his barely clothed and sexy sister. As Zombie says, "It's like if Spongebob Squarepants took place in a world full of monsters and strippers and was made for adults". While I'd argue that Spongebob WAS indeed made for adults, the rest of his description is spot on. After the disappointment that was Halloween, I hope Rob redeems himself with this - hopefully - NC-17 cartoon gore fest. Come on, Rob. Don't let me down, buddy!
I also saw this article over on Stupid Evil Bastard. While I agree that having Patrick Stewart do an appearance on Dr. Who would rock at a sub-atomic level... what excited me more was the revelation that he and David Tennant are performing Hamlet together with the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford next summer. The Doctor will be playing the title role ("Get thee to a TARDIS, Why wouldst thou be a breeder of Daleks?"), while Jean Luc Picard will be playing Hamlet's Uncle, Claudius ("Oh, my offense is rank! It smells to Heaven! Make it so!". The English Literature major within me is abolutely mind melding with the unrepentant sci-fi geek that shares space with it in my soul! I'm in agony here. Besides seeing the RSC - in fucking Stratford - but actually combining that with Dr. Who and Star Trek actors?!?! I feel like I'm going to explode.
Mrs. Zombie and I went to England for our honeymoon and my one regret when we went is that we never made it to Stratford. We spent the whole week in London (which is befitting of a trip to England's capitol. One could spend 2 weeks there and still not see and do it all). We took the time to see the Phantom of the Opera at Her Majesty's Theater in the Strand - which was awesome. But MY love and passion is Elizabethan drama (and what I expect my specialization will be when I get my Master's in English Lit)I'd wished we'd had the time and money to see a Shakespearan play.
And then this news rears its beautifully geekish head.
Next year's our ten year anniversary, and I know that money's tight - but gods I wish I could convince Mrs. Zombie to fly to England for 3 or 4 days so we could catch a performance next summer. I'm looking for suggestions as to how I can convince her to indulge this completely unrealistic wish. Anybody got any suggestions for me? Is there anyone out there who can please give me some guidance as to how I can swing the $1000 or so dollars to fly there, catch a show, and NOT get arrested trying to get photos and autographs from the Doctor AND Professor X.?!? And keep my marriage intact?!?
Let Doctor Zombie's scheming begin...
Thursday, September 20, 2007
And so it starts...
It's that time of the year! My favoritest season is upon us, which means that Halloween is near!!
Woot!
I can feel it coming and the signs are there if you know what you're looking for...
- Candy Corn can be purchased at the store now (as well as Reese's Peanut Butter Pumpkins. Mmmm... Peanut Butter Pumpkins... Glaaaahhhh...)
- there's an increase of horror related movies on TV. (I just DVR'd Fright Night, which is one of the best 80's horror flicks ever!)
- Leaves are starting to fall.
- I keep a radio on at work and I heard, for the first time this season, a haunted house radio promo! (Do you dare enter the Seven Acres of Hell! Muwahahahah!!!)
- Apple cider and pumpkins can now be purchased at the grocery store and local market.
- It's cold in the morning. I've had to wear a jacket on the Harley every morning this week!
Woohoo!
In the next few days, I'll post some kooky, spooky Halloween links!
Watch for it, dear readers!
Friday, September 07, 2007
Movie Review - Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
Guillermo Del Toro’s Spanish language fantasy opus; Pan’s Labyrinth is a spell binding, magical, wondrous movie that is a dizzying mix of horror, fantasy, action, and drama.
El Laberinto del Fauno (or Pan’s Labyrinth for those who sprechen the English!), tells the story of an intelligent, but bookwormish, young girl named Ofelia (played by Ivana Baquero) who is forced to move into the Spanish countryside in 1944. Her recently widowed mother has remarried a captain in the fascist Spanish Army who is leading a campaign to eradicate pro-democracy rebels in the surrounding Spanish hills.
Captain Vidal, played by Sergi Lopez, is a cold, evil man who has traces of the callousness and bloodthirstiness of Ralph Fiennes character in Spielberg’s Schindler’s List. He shows an immediate disdain for Ofelia as she is not his child, is a girl, and is baggage that her mother brings from her first marriage. Ofelia’s mother, on the other hand, is loving – bat also pregnant with Captain Vidal’s child. To Captain Vidal, she carries his son, who will carry Vidal’s name and who will fulfill all of Vidal’s dreams of primogeniture.
It is among this backdrop of interfamilial politics, set against the wartime background of the army’s protracted campaign against local rebels, that Ofelia withdraws into a fantastical world. Near their villa is an old hedge maze that leads to a pre-Roman, pagan, grotto dedicated to the pagan god, Pan.
Ofelia meets a fairy, who leads her to the labyrinth, and to a faun in the service of the King of the Fairies. He tells Ofelia that she is the King’s daughter who has been cursed and trapped in human form. Fortunately, the curse can be broken, but to do so she must complete three tasks in order to regain her place as the Princess of the Fairies.
Whether this is her imagination or it is real is immaterial. Del Toro weaves the conflict of the real world with the supernatural challenges Ofelia faces incredibly. The imagery, the make up, the effects, the photography are all breathtaking and beautiful. Amid the beauty and splendor and sometimes horror of Ofelia’s fairy world trials is a story of a child lost in the ravages and horror of war; as well as the greedy ambitions of the sociopathic Captain.
It’s so hard to believe that the same man who brought us Hellboy (One of my favorite films ever, hand down!) could put together so moving and visually stunning a spectacle, but he has. The narrative moves in and out of the two worlds and maintains a deliberate and inevitable pace that lead inexorably towards its poignant and haunting ending.
To review this movie, or even try to capture all of the wonder that is this movie, is near impossible. All I can say is that you must see it! It is one of the best films I have EVER seen (strong words, I know, but true none the less.). This is less a horror or fantasy movie than it is true cinema. It is unique, awe-inspiring, and is one of those rare films that shows that cinema as a medium can rise above simple eye candy and superficial storytelling. This is the type of movie that proves that motion pictures can be true, soul touching art.
Go…see it! Do it now!
Doctor Zombie’s Rating: 5 out of 5 Chomped Brains!!!
Movie Review – Rob Zombie’s Halloween (2007)
So I went into this with really, really high expectations. I came away with some of my expectations met, and some disappointment.
I liked the movie, I liked it a lot. But part of me is still glad that I can, when the mood strikes me, pull out John Carpenter’s classic original and revel in the simple elegance of one of the greatest horror movies of all time. That said, I do have to caution anyone going to see this movie - go into it with the intention of seeing a revision of the idea, and not necessarily an improvement.
So – what happens? As Rob Zombie’s said in interviews, he was fascinated with the time between when Michael kills Judith, ends up in Smith’s Grove, and then comes back 15 years later. And Rob does a great job of filling in this gap and showing how Michael became Michael.
The film opens and we see Michael as a chubby, long haired kid with a KISS t-shirt. He lives in a fucked up household with his stripper mother (played by the ever lovely Sherri Moon Zombie), his sister Judith, his baby sister Laurie, and mom’s abusive, drunk boyfriend Ronnie (played by the delightfully profane and intense William Forsythe). This scene establishes right out of the gate that this isn’t Halloween as you remember it. There’s plenty of Rob Zombie style cursing and dialogue, which – truthfully – I love. I honestly like the way he writes, it reminds me of Kevin Smith’s style – just with a whole lot more dirty words, if one can believe that!
We learn that Michael is a budding psychopath – complete with all of the beginning signs like killing animals and social issues. We also meet a long-haired, optimistic, and dedicated Malcolm McDowell as Dr. Loomis. We learn that Michael is fascinated with masks. And then we see him make his first kill. I’m beginning to notice that Rob likes to refer to his past movies, and this flick does it the most. His first kill is reminiscent of Otis’ tree branch carnage in The Devil’s Rejects, but seems so much more focused and disturbing.
From here, Michael goes on his fateful killing spree at home with chilling efficiency and deliciously gory results. The movie then shifts to Michael’s stay at the Smiths Grove Sanitarium where Loomis tries to reach him and heal him, only to see that the boy is slipping away and a monster is coming to be. As the years go on, Loomis becomes more jaded and cynical, Michael retreats into silence and an obsession with masks, and his mother kills herself in depression at his worsening condition.
Fast forward 15 years, and we see that Michael is now grown, hasn’t spoken in 12 years, and is as big as a professional wrestler (which he is, being played by Tyler Mane and all). The night before Halloween, Loomis quits as his therapist and the state decides to move him to another facility. Obviously, things go horribly awry and – in a chill inducing scene reminiscent of the one when Hannibal Lector escapes in Silence of the Lambs, Michael smears the halls and wall of Smiths Grove with the blood of the hospital staff. This was a great scene – and I refer to Silence of the Lambs – because Zombie does a great job of building the suspense and horror. There is a palpable sense of, “Oh fuck. I’m trapped in a locked hospital with a remorseless, amoral killing machine.”
After this, we veer into familiar territory as Michael returns to Haddonfield and begins the stalking and killing of dumb teenagers who have sex. I say that with my tongue firmly planted in my undead cheek. Killing nubile, sexually active teens became de rigueur in 80’s slasher flicks, so much so that one could watch a movie and know who was going to die based on who was getting boinked. It''s important to bear in mind, though, that this genre necessity was first established by Carpenter’s original Halloween. Just one more way that Halloween set the rules that defined the genre.
So – where was I? Oh yeah, Michael comes to Haddonfield. Michael kills teens. Loomis runs around warning everybody. Nobody believes or groks that Loomis might actually know what the fuck he’s talking about. Michael gets stabbed, shot, and impaled repeatedly. You know, basically just like the original. In this case Laurie is played by the really, really hot Scout Taylor-Compton, and her friends Annie and Lynda are played by Danielle Harris and Kristina Klebe respectively. And We must at this point take a moment to bask in the joy and wonder that is the very hot and delicious Danielle Harris. The very, hot, delicious, and totally topless Danielle Harris. Sigh. (Danielle, by the way, played Laurie’s daughter Jamie in Halloween 4 and 5. How awesome is it that Zombie managed to get her into this film?!?)
What worked about this flick? Well, I have to say that Zombie didn’t disappoint. He understands horror and gets what makes us squirm uncomfortably in our seats. He’s a real horror fan and it shows in his devotion to the craft. I also liked the pre-Halloween material. It was a fascinating look into an otherwise unknown facet of the Halloween mythos. And Zombie’s style seems to be evolving and getting better every time he gets behind the camera. The best part is that there were just some great cameos in the film. Sid Haig makes an appearance, as well as Clint Howard, Danny Trejo, Udo Keir, Richard Lynch, Bill Moseley, Ken Foree, and Dee Wallace. Best of all was an appearance by the cool as all hell Brad Dourif as Sheriff Brackett. Brad Dourif (Chucky from Child’s Play, Worm Tongue from LOTR, and Doc Cochran from Deadwood) was totally unexpected and any movie with him in it is a slice of fried gold, bitches!
In addition to this, we see more of Zombie’s homage to his prior work. Tommy Doyle’s Halloween costume is the same that Otis wore at the end of House of 1000 Corpses, as well as also had painted on his steel mask in The Devil’s Rejects. And as always, Zombie did a great job with the soundtrack. In all of the commercials (and also when I saw Zombie in concert last summer) - I kept hearing a reworked, horror-metal version of Carpenter’s original score. My biggest fear was that they would scrap the original music and theme. Surprisingly, they kept it in the movie. Big kudos to Rob for recognizing that the score from the original was one of the reasons that Halloween worked so well. Carpenter’s plinking, eerie, synthesized piano theme is a distinctive, integral part of the suspense of this movie, as well as a piece of horror history. (Admittedly, I’m a little biased here. It’s the damned ring tone on my phone, for chrissakes!)
Finally - Malcolm Mcdowell as Loomis. Pure casting genius! If any actor could convey the almost mad desperation of Donald Pleasance's original performance, Malcom McDowell is that man, me bonny droogs! And he does a super job here. He is probably the best casting choice Zombie made, hands down!
But all this leads to the inevitable question of, "What didn’t work?" For me, what didn’t work was when we get back to Haddonfield and Zombie recreates entire scenes from the original. From Lynda’s irritating use of “Totally!” as an all purpose indefinite article (this is a pet peeve of mine from the original. PJ Harvey’s use of it still annoys the ever living crap out of me. Mrs. Zombie laughs because I totally make fun of Lynda whenever we, like, totally watch the original. Totally.); to the recreation of the scene where Loomis goes to the graveyard to find Judith’s missing headstone. Zombie even recreates one of the pivotal murder scenes where he lifts and - ka-chunk – nails Bob to the wall with his butcher knife. When you can’t bear anymore of this, though, Zombie goes in a completely different direction with the story and changes the ending significantly from Carpenter’s masterpiece. So there is some redemption.
And as awesome as the early years stuff was, Zombie made an error in making Michael Meyers care about his baby sister (Boo in the early years, Laurie later - after her mother’s death and adoption by the Strode’s). This is my biggest gripe about the film. Zombie did everything he could to make Michael an inhuman, monstrous, killing machine; but then gives him this emotional pathos as it pertains to his sister. Even the abortions that were the later Halloween sequels understood that the only reason Michael kept coming back was to kill Laurie (and later his niece, Jamie). His inhuman, methodical, bad as hell sociopathy is somehow lessened by making him act tenderly towards Laurie.
All that being said, I held off on writing this review because I wanted some time to think about the movie and whether or not I liked it. Now, with some time and perspective, I can say I honestly enjoyed it as a stand alone movie. In fact, when held up to the rest of Zombie’s work, it is by far the best, most mature, most well put together of his movies. It is in no way as good as the original Halloween, but it was good on it’s own merits. He added to the series and did so with some great, gory, horrific scenes. So I liked it. I liked it a lot. And I will most definitely own it and recommend it to others as a great movie. I will also - undoubtedly - watch the hell out of it. (Please dear, dark, pagan gods - give us an unrated version!!!)
But - and I hate to say this - I suspect that sometime this October I will be revisiting Carpenter’s original as I gear up for the wondrous holiday that is Halloween. Not because it is better, but because it still stands the test of time.
Sorry, Rob.
Doctor Zombie’s rating: 4 out of 5 Chomped Brains!!!
Friday, August 31, 2007
Giddy Like a Schoolgirl!
I'm sneaking out of work in a half hour to go see Rob Zombie's Halloween. Woot!
I watched John Carpenter's original last night, and that helped reassure me that I always have the classic in case Rob totally fucks up.
Please, dear dark, pagan gods! Don't let this suck!
Watch for a review later tonight!!!
I watched John Carpenter's original last night, and that helped reassure me that I always have the classic in case Rob totally fucks up.
Please, dear dark, pagan gods! Don't let this suck!
Watch for a review later tonight!!!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Dr. Z's Conveyance of Doom III
I wanted to post a couple of new pictures of my Harley. I just finally swapped out the drag bars for some 12 inch ape hangers (that, plus a 6 inch riser puts the apes at about 18 inches. They sit nice at about shoulder height.)
I also fixed the shifter that I broke about two and a half weeks ago. There were some problems with the new shifter rod fitting the old forward controls, but my friend Chris took the forward control into work and lathed it out to fit the new shifter rod. That, by the way, was a perfect example of my tax dollars at work. He works for NASA, and only charged me $750,000 to fix it. Compared to most government spending, I think I got off pretty cheap!
So I finally rode it and I'm really, really happy with the feel and look of it. 
The apes fit perfectly and I'm already noticing the difference. You see, besides the fact that apehangers just look bad ass, I was starting to get some wrist pain from the old drag bars. The apes have completely eliminated that and, oddly enough, the apes make the bike just feel bigger.
The apes fit perfectly and I'm already noticing the difference. You see, besides the fact that apehangers just look bad ass, I was starting to get some wrist pain from the old drag bars. The apes have completely eliminated that and, oddly enough, the apes make the bike just feel bigger.So - now I'm rolling in style. The only other upgrade I really need/want is a solo seat. Besides giving the Harley an old school bobber look, it'll keep me out of trouble with Mrs. Zombie. If I have a solo seat, the likelihood and possibility of some scooter tramp trying to get a ride is significantly reduced. No sense tempting the gods, or running the risk of pissing off Mrs. Zombie because some skanky barfly hops on for a ride. It also eliminates my having to be a dick and telling the skanks that they're not welcome on Dr. Zombie's Conveyance of Doom.
Enough for now, dear readers. I'm off to go for a ride to my favorite cemetary for a little grave robbing.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Dr. Z's Library of Terror!
Often – this blog focuses so much on the visual sort of horror. Movies, and such. One thing to bear in mind is that I am also a writer and, in order to be a good wirter, a writer needs to read. And I read a lot. I often have four or five books going at any time. In fact, Mrs. Zombie honestly considered not marrying me because she was concerned about the inordinate amount of money I spent on books. Fortunately, I wooed her enough to get her to see past any misgivings, and I also got much more sneaky about my book buying behavior (Halfprice books is Doctor Zombie’s friend and book addiction enabler!).
I love movie horror, but – just as much – I love horror writing also.
So, I decided to put together a couple lists of things that I’m currently reading, and current authors I’ve been especially fond of and that I consider great additions to any horror fans personal library. I need to qualify that... my literary tastes change and fluctuate so frequently that this list, unfortunately, has a shelf life of about two or three months. I've tried, however, to include some additions that have staying power, but no promises.
Also, these lists are in no way complete, but they’re a good start…
Essential Authors
HP Lovecraft – The father of modern horror. Lovecraft’s 1920’s and 1930’s pulp horror is absolutely breathtaking in its scope and language. Any horror writer alive today would most likely list Providence RI’s dark son of horror as an influence. Lovecraft encapsulated the paranoia of a world on the cusp of scientific exploration, and melded it with old world horror. He was the first writer to scare the hell out his readers with the idea that there may be Others out there – Others who don’t care about us or our meaningless lives - as well as older, more ancient evils; evils that predate humanity and have haunted our nightmares since our first hairy and barely bipedal forebearers crouched in terror in their caves, trembling at the darkness outside.
Stephen King – I love old Stephen King, before he became a parody of himself. And there are snobs out there who don’t consider what King does literature. (I know. I’ve argued with college English professors about this.) The fact of the matter is, regardless of how many copies he sold, no matter how mainstream is works are, no matter how many movies are made of his work, King is prolific. History will view him as a literary master. He crafts an excellent story and his exposition and dialogue are always tight. His earlier works (Carrie, Cujo, The Shining, The Stand, etc.) are classics of 20th century literature. My first King novel was Salem’s Lot. I was nine or ten when I read it and it scared the ever living crap out of me. Some 25+ years later, I still can’t walk past a window, late at night, without getting a twinge of fear at seeing a small boy floating there with pale skin, sharp canines, and long dirty nails tapping on the panes. “Let me in! Please…let me in.”
Richard Laymon – If you’ve never experienced Laymon, you don’t know what you’re missing. Laymon wrote about thirty books before his death in 2001 from a massive heart attack. What I so love about Laymon is his willingness to show the dark side of humanity. Also, he starts the action of his novels within a page or two of it starting. Unlike King, he just jumps right in and begins the horror show. His mix of wit and terror and raw human sexuality is unique and his death was a loss to the world of horror fiction.
Poppy Z. Brite – Poppy Z. Brite is one of those authors that bends the definition of literary genre. Her early horror works are luscious tales of young gay goth men in the south. Almost like a twisted, pro-gay southern gothic style reminiscent of Tenessee Williams, Poppy populates her stories with vampires, ghosts, and deep southern voodoo. She has a singular vision and is a writer firmly of my own generation that encapsulates the transitional horror of the that liminal period at the end of 20th century. Her horror is visceral, bloody, and always deliciously, decadently sensual.
Chuck Palahniuk – the author of Fight Club has other works out there that are seriously all about the mindfuck. The book that sold me on his genius, though, was Haunted. I bought this because I’d heard – anecdotally – that one of the stories in it had actually caused several people to faint at his readings and signings because it was so ghastly. My first, highly cynical thought was that it was just a ploy by his publisher to sell books. And then I read the story. Called “Guts”, this story was terrifying, creepy, and altogether emotionally disturbing. As I was reading it, I got light-headed and started to get a little dizzy. The rest of the novel is a rollercoaster of chilling vignettes. Palahniuk is a genius of going to the edge of sanity and blithely dancing across the line to the deeper, darker recesses of the human mind.
Honorable mentions…
Dean Koontz – I read Koontz and think two things. 1) Sheer genius! and, 2) I so could have written this! (But probably not as well. Dammit.)
Brian Keene – Keene is re-imagining the zombie genre. A bit dark and pessimistic, it’s always a joy to read about some flesh-eating zombie goodness.
Edward Lee – A new writer who’s work focuses on the Mephistopholis – the city that spreads like a throbbing, pulsing, malignant cancerous growth over Hell. Very imaginative and great characters.
Neil Gaiman – Not necessarily horror, but awesome fantasy. Gaiman has a flare for imagining new worlds that live at the very periphery of ours, sort of a tamer version of…
Clive Barker – Man, back in the day Clive was a fucking genius! He hasn’t really done much lately that is truly horrific, but when he does he goes full balls out. Reading Clive is like taking a roadtrip into madness.
Max Brooks – Of course, the author of The Zombie Survival Guide and World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War. Again – a reinvigorating shot in the arm of the zombie genre…
Doctor Zombie’s Current Reading List
Richard Laymon – Among the Missing
- Fantastic. Classic Laymon. I’m slowly working my way through all of Laymon’s books (I just discovered him last year) and have yet to be disappointed.
Dean Koontz – Forever Odd
The second in Dean Koontz’ newest series features a young man named Odd Thomas who speaks to the dead. I should finish this in the next day or so and then begin begging Mrs. Zombie for the money to buy the newest in the series – Brother Odd.
Slavomir Rawicz – The Long Walk
A re-read. I go back to this book every 6 months or so. It’s an incredible story. The book was written because a journalist went to England to interview to an old man who had supposedly seen a yeti in the Himalayas in 1940. It was basically a puff piece. When the journalist asked why the man was in the Himalayas, the funny piece about the Abominable Snowman was dwarfed by Rawicz’ story. Rawicz was a Polish officer captured by the Russians in 1939, he escaped a Siberian gulag and WALKED 4,000 miles to India. He walked OVER the Himalayas. He walked THROUGH the Gobi desert. He transversed the ENTIRE Asian continent. A story of incredible human endurance and perseverence – this book is just inspirational.
Donald Tyson - Necronomicon: The Wanderings of Alhazrad.
A beautifully twisted fictionalized translation of the necronomicon. Tyson fully captures the evil, degenerate evilness of the mad arab, Abdul Alhazrad.
Matthew Reilly – Scarecrow
A guilty pleasure, this is the third in a military action thriller series about a special forces soldier with the code name of Scarecrow. Simplistic, unrealistic, tactically ridiculous, and action-oriented, it’s still a good read and I like the characters.
Now - away with you! I just got a line on a copy of the Necronomicon Ex Mortis, bound in human flesh. Some guy named Ash has a copy he's willing to sell for a six pack of beer, some chainsaw bar oil, and a a box of shotgun shells...
I love movie horror, but – just as much – I love horror writing also.
So, I decided to put together a couple lists of things that I’m currently reading, and current authors I’ve been especially fond of and that I consider great additions to any horror fans personal library. I need to qualify that... my literary tastes change and fluctuate so frequently that this list, unfortunately, has a shelf life of about two or three months. I've tried, however, to include some additions that have staying power, but no promises.
Also, these lists are in no way complete, but they’re a good start…
Essential Authors
HP Lovecraft – The father of modern horror. Lovecraft’s 1920’s and 1930’s pulp horror is absolutely breathtaking in its scope and language. Any horror writer alive today would most likely list Providence RI’s dark son of horror as an influence. Lovecraft encapsulated the paranoia of a world on the cusp of scientific exploration, and melded it with old world horror. He was the first writer to scare the hell out his readers with the idea that there may be Others out there – Others who don’t care about us or our meaningless lives - as well as older, more ancient evils; evils that predate humanity and have haunted our nightmares since our first hairy and barely bipedal forebearers crouched in terror in their caves, trembling at the darkness outside.
Stephen King – I love old Stephen King, before he became a parody of himself. And there are snobs out there who don’t consider what King does literature. (I know. I’ve argued with college English professors about this.) The fact of the matter is, regardless of how many copies he sold, no matter how mainstream is works are, no matter how many movies are made of his work, King is prolific. History will view him as a literary master. He crafts an excellent story and his exposition and dialogue are always tight. His earlier works (Carrie, Cujo, The Shining, The Stand, etc.) are classics of 20th century literature. My first King novel was Salem’s Lot. I was nine or ten when I read it and it scared the ever living crap out of me. Some 25+ years later, I still can’t walk past a window, late at night, without getting a twinge of fear at seeing a small boy floating there with pale skin, sharp canines, and long dirty nails tapping on the panes. “Let me in! Please…let me in.”
Richard Laymon – If you’ve never experienced Laymon, you don’t know what you’re missing. Laymon wrote about thirty books before his death in 2001 from a massive heart attack. What I so love about Laymon is his willingness to show the dark side of humanity. Also, he starts the action of his novels within a page or two of it starting. Unlike King, he just jumps right in and begins the horror show. His mix of wit and terror and raw human sexuality is unique and his death was a loss to the world of horror fiction.
Poppy Z. Brite – Poppy Z. Brite is one of those authors that bends the definition of literary genre. Her early horror works are luscious tales of young gay goth men in the south. Almost like a twisted, pro-gay southern gothic style reminiscent of Tenessee Williams, Poppy populates her stories with vampires, ghosts, and deep southern voodoo. She has a singular vision and is a writer firmly of my own generation that encapsulates the transitional horror of the that liminal period at the end of 20th century. Her horror is visceral, bloody, and always deliciously, decadently sensual.
Chuck Palahniuk – the author of Fight Club has other works out there that are seriously all about the mindfuck. The book that sold me on his genius, though, was Haunted. I bought this because I’d heard – anecdotally – that one of the stories in it had actually caused several people to faint at his readings and signings because it was so ghastly. My first, highly cynical thought was that it was just a ploy by his publisher to sell books. And then I read the story. Called “Guts”, this story was terrifying, creepy, and altogether emotionally disturbing. As I was reading it, I got light-headed and started to get a little dizzy. The rest of the novel is a rollercoaster of chilling vignettes. Palahniuk is a genius of going to the edge of sanity and blithely dancing across the line to the deeper, darker recesses of the human mind.
Honorable mentions…
Dean Koontz – I read Koontz and think two things. 1) Sheer genius! and, 2) I so could have written this! (But probably not as well. Dammit.)
Brian Keene – Keene is re-imagining the zombie genre. A bit dark and pessimistic, it’s always a joy to read about some flesh-eating zombie goodness.
Edward Lee – A new writer who’s work focuses on the Mephistopholis – the city that spreads like a throbbing, pulsing, malignant cancerous growth over Hell. Very imaginative and great characters.
Neil Gaiman – Not necessarily horror, but awesome fantasy. Gaiman has a flare for imagining new worlds that live at the very periphery of ours, sort of a tamer version of…
Clive Barker – Man, back in the day Clive was a fucking genius! He hasn’t really done much lately that is truly horrific, but when he does he goes full balls out. Reading Clive is like taking a roadtrip into madness.
Max Brooks – Of course, the author of The Zombie Survival Guide and World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War. Again – a reinvigorating shot in the arm of the zombie genre…
Doctor Zombie’s Current Reading List
Richard Laymon – Among the Missing
- Fantastic. Classic Laymon. I’m slowly working my way through all of Laymon’s books (I just discovered him last year) and have yet to be disappointed.
Dean Koontz – Forever Odd
The second in Dean Koontz’ newest series features a young man named Odd Thomas who speaks to the dead. I should finish this in the next day or so and then begin begging Mrs. Zombie for the money to buy the newest in the series – Brother Odd.
Slavomir Rawicz – The Long Walk
A re-read. I go back to this book every 6 months or so. It’s an incredible story. The book was written because a journalist went to England to interview to an old man who had supposedly seen a yeti in the Himalayas in 1940. It was basically a puff piece. When the journalist asked why the man was in the Himalayas, the funny piece about the Abominable Snowman was dwarfed by Rawicz’ story. Rawicz was a Polish officer captured by the Russians in 1939, he escaped a Siberian gulag and WALKED 4,000 miles to India. He walked OVER the Himalayas. He walked THROUGH the Gobi desert. He transversed the ENTIRE Asian continent. A story of incredible human endurance and perseverence – this book is just inspirational.
Donald Tyson - Necronomicon: The Wanderings of Alhazrad.
A beautifully twisted fictionalized translation of the necronomicon. Tyson fully captures the evil, degenerate evilness of the mad arab, Abdul Alhazrad.
Matthew Reilly – Scarecrow
A guilty pleasure, this is the third in a military action thriller series about a special forces soldier with the code name of Scarecrow. Simplistic, unrealistic, tactically ridiculous, and action-oriented, it’s still a good read and I like the characters.
Now - away with you! I just got a line on a copy of the Necronomicon Ex Mortis, bound in human flesh. Some guy named Ash has a copy he's willing to sell for a six pack of beer, some chainsaw bar oil, and a a box of shotgun shells...
Friday, August 17, 2007
My First Crazy Stalker!
So - two days ago I got a crazy comment from an anonymous poster on my Caffeine, Star trek, and Mullets post.
I was intrigued by the poster's apparent paranoid schizophrenia, so I decided not to delete the comment. I figured I'd just relish this rare view into the inner workings of a deranged mind.
The thing is, I'm still intrigued a day later - so I did a little Googling of some of Anon's crazy chatter and it looks like he's been dumping his evil goo all over Blogger, Wordpress, and other assorted blogging sites for months. It's all the same basic rant, just added on to. Apparently I have the latest, most recently updated incarnation. He's apparently been busy writing more of his racist, anti-religious, paranoid, incomprehensible gibberish - at least when he's NOT fighting off the hungry, human-sized lizards that have been hunting him with a marlin spike.
He did leave an email address: odd1906evil@even2006good.com
I am so tempted to write him and ask if he's really as batty as he sounds or if all of this spamming is just some sort of social internet experiment or performance art. Maybe if I get a disposable email I'll do it. I may even pretend to be an adherent to the wisdom he's spreading. Tell him I grok it, I dig it. But not with my regular email. Nuh-uh. No way.
Oooo... but I'm so fascinated with this craziness!
*******************************************************
Later...
All right, so I've broken down and sent him an email. I actually just recently changed my email provider and my old account is still open - but it will be closed in a few weeks (or whenever this months payment runs out...), so I figured, "what the hell, what can it hurt?".
So what if he inundates my inbox with more psychobabble? I'm getting rid of the account anyway. I've put on my tin foil hat and set myself to baiting the loony, stalker.
The thing is, I feel sorry for the pychopaths. There is a poingnant sadness to the incessant ravings, heeding of voices, and visions of crawling bugs and snakes all over one's body. Whereas I am simply an amoral, murderous, sociopath - I at least have full control over my faculties and can live a normal appearing life. I bet this guy lives in mom's basement, makes "meeping" noises in public, unconsciously pulls his ratty, unwashed hair, and has written gibberish equations explaining God's existence all over the walls of his "secure hideout".
Poor, unfortunate nutjob... now he's got the attention of Doctor Zombie. I expect things won't go well for him...
*******************************************************
Even Later Still...
So I held off on actually posting this because I didn't want to scare off Mr. WhackoPants.
Unfortunately, my email was bounced back as "no such email". I guess the mystery ends here, in a dead end...
Too bad that. This guy seemed genuinely and completely monkey shit crazy . Oh well. I'll periodically be checking back on him through Google to see if I can get more information on him as his "manifesto" evolves...
I was intrigued by the poster's apparent paranoid schizophrenia, so I decided not to delete the comment. I figured I'd just relish this rare view into the inner workings of a deranged mind.
The thing is, I'm still intrigued a day later - so I did a little Googling of some of Anon's crazy chatter and it looks like he's been dumping his evil goo all over Blogger, Wordpress, and other assorted blogging sites for months. It's all the same basic rant, just added on to. Apparently I have the latest, most recently updated incarnation. He's apparently been busy writing more of his racist, anti-religious, paranoid, incomprehensible gibberish - at least when he's NOT fighting off the hungry, human-sized lizards that have been hunting him with a marlin spike.
He did leave an email address: odd1906evil@even2006good.com
I am so tempted to write him and ask if he's really as batty as he sounds or if all of this spamming is just some sort of social internet experiment or performance art. Maybe if I get a disposable email I'll do it. I may even pretend to be an adherent to the wisdom he's spreading. Tell him I grok it, I dig it. But not with my regular email. Nuh-uh. No way.
Oooo... but I'm so fascinated with this craziness!
*******************************************************
Later...
All right, so I've broken down and sent him an email. I actually just recently changed my email provider and my old account is still open - but it will be closed in a few weeks (or whenever this months payment runs out...), so I figured, "what the hell, what can it hurt?".
So what if he inundates my inbox with more psychobabble? I'm getting rid of the account anyway. I've put on my tin foil hat and set myself to baiting the loony, stalker.
The thing is, I feel sorry for the pychopaths. There is a poingnant sadness to the incessant ravings, heeding of voices, and visions of crawling bugs and snakes all over one's body. Whereas I am simply an amoral, murderous, sociopath - I at least have full control over my faculties and can live a normal appearing life. I bet this guy lives in mom's basement, makes "meeping" noises in public, unconsciously pulls his ratty, unwashed hair, and has written gibberish equations explaining God's existence all over the walls of his "secure hideout".
Poor, unfortunate nutjob... now he's got the attention of Doctor Zombie. I expect things won't go well for him...
*******************************************************
Even Later Still...
So I held off on actually posting this because I didn't want to scare off Mr. WhackoPants.
Unfortunately, my email was bounced back as "no such email". I guess the mystery ends here, in a dead end...
Too bad that. This guy seemed genuinely and completely monkey shit crazy . Oh well. I'll periodically be checking back on him through Google to see if I can get more information on him as his "manifesto" evolves...
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
The Autumn Of The Living Dead!
So - some great flicks coming out soon. The first is, of course Rob Zombie's Halloween on August 31st. I'm leery about a remake of what, in my opinion, is one of the greatest horror movies of all time. The dark gods know that they did a down right shitty job with the sequels - much less a remake. But - it's directed by Rob Zombie, and I think he's got a great artistic vision. I'm biased because he's probably one of my favorite artists in general, but I have high expectations for this. Hope I'm not disappointed.
Also up, and with more of the actual lip-smacking, flesh eating, beating-on-the-doors-because-they-want-your-brains! zombie goodness, we have the latest Resident Evil incarnation coming out on September 21st. Resident Evil: Extinction looks good and, although the zombies take the back seat to the character of Alice, they're still there and I think this series has done a good job of keeping zombies at the forefront of the horror consciousness. The prior two were (in my not so humble opinion) one of the rare instances where a movie surpassed the game it was based on and - unlike any of the bloody abortions that Uwe Boll directs - actually succeeded in the crossover to the silver screen as a successful stand alone story. Let's hope I'm not disappointed. (Although I expect that there will be additional luscious nakedness by Milla Jovovich. I am powerless when faced with the hotness of Milla... dear sweet Milla. Naked Milla is a win all around and will guarantee at least three stars when I review it...) Too bad they never got around to making George Romero's version of Resident Evil...
Speaking of the god that is George Romero - production has wrapped on his fifth living dead film and we're starting to see some leaked photos on the internet. Diary of the Dead is set to make its premiere at the Toronto Film Fest on September 8th and is a throwback to the renegade, independent films that so endeared fans to Romero's original works. No big budget, studio produced, fucked with and watered down zombie flick this. It goes back to what made George the household (or at least MY household) name that he is today. This one's got my cold, undead nether bits twitching in anticipation, dear readers!
Speaking of the Romero's seminal work - the remake of his classic Night of the Living Dead will be available on DVD from Lionsgate films on October 9th. This reworked 3D version (That's right! I said 3D, mother fuckers! Woot!!!) stars Sid "Captain Spaulding" Haig and, truthfully has me really, really intrigued. I'll of course be purchasing a copy on October 10th...
So - I'll be spending a great deal of time this upcoming fall indulging in that which makes me so happy - zombie films! I will of course be watching the flicks and running home to write reviews for the site, so make sure you check back. And, if anybody in Ohio wants to go see some zombie carnage with the good Doctor, drop me an email at doctorzombie-AT-oh-dot-rr-dot-com. (hit the clicky up top and to the right!) I'll be happy to see it with you because that just means I don't need to sneak snacks into the movie. I'll have your brains to munch on!!!
Caffeine, Star Trek, and Mullets!
I’ve got some tasty links for you! I just pulled them off of the barbeque where I was also grilling up a nice piece of college coed. Mmmm… meat….
I’ve admitted before how much of a geek I am. To the eternal dismay of Mrs. Zombie, I’m always going on about Star Trek, Star Wars, vampires, zombies, The Simpsons, roleplaying, or some other thing that would have made her serious doubt the wisdom of marrying me had she known about it beforehand. Well... that and how much I fart. I hid that so well that she is still amazed that I didn’t internally combust at anytime while we were dating. But I digress…
Besides being a geek, I’m unrepentant about it and KNOW that I’m a geek. I have no problem laughing at myself. That’s why I found this link listing Ten Things I Hate About Star Trek so damned funny…
In that same vein, I found this article about a mathemetician and philosopher who’s proved – mathematically – that we may actually be SIM–like denizens of some future human's computers. While it’s not so cool as being Neo and waking up in a vat of pink goo to a world darkened by a human/machine war – it’s still kind of chilling. I actually got goosebumps reading this and have been unable to stop thinking about it all morning.
This dumb chick OD’d on caffeine. This struck me as really, really fucking funny. We often joke that my brother Phil can drive drunk better than he can drive sober – but never, EVER let him have coffee. He doesn’t normally drink caffeine in any form, but the two or three times he has, he’s had accidents. It’s like the caffeine messes with his reflexes and hand eye coordination. Along the same lines, my other brother Aron actually had to go to the hospital when he was in Med School. He was popping No-Doz and had been up for like four days straight. He started to get irregular heart rhythm. That caffeine’s some hardcore shit – and I can’t personally live without it. Addiction’s a terrible thing, man…
Diamond Dave is back! Woot! I think I might go see this show. One of my dirty little secrets is that I love Van Halen. (Excuse me while I wax all Joe Dirt, “None of that Van Hagar shit! They weren’t no Van Halen with that Hagar dude!”). I actually saw David Lee Roth a couple years back. My sister had won tickets and Mrs. Zombie and I went with her and my brother-in-law. It was a small venue (of course!) and it was just pure fried cheese. Dave’s still running around in his spandex jump suit, still doing karate kicks and spinning the mike stand like he’s fighting off the forces of bad rock, and is still convinced that every girl there wants his old, wrinkled, bald ass. He still thinks it’s 1985 and he’s still the greatest rocker alive! What’s really funny is that our seats were off to the side a little bit and we could actually see behind the stage. What Dave’d do is he’d sing a song and then have his guitarist launch into a really, really long guitar solo. Dave, who’d been dancing and swirling like a Geriatric Ninja Turtle, would run back stage where an assistant would be waiting. Dave then would bend over, gasping for air as he downed a beer and smoked a cigarette until his pacemaker got his heart back into a regular rhythm. God – getting old sucks! I’ll still see this show though, and I may try to track down a mullet wig for it. Van Halen Rocks!
Check it out! I found a website for a local guy who’s into making movies and also checking out our local paranormal scene. It's called Creepy Cleveland. I was actually looking into some local haunted areas in preparation for some Halloween shenanigans. (And – it goes without saying – Halloween is Doctor Zombie’s favorite holiday!) when I ran into his site. I’ve added him to my blogroll. Check out his blog and also the site for his movie work. Maybe I can convince him to have a Doctor Zombie cameo in an upcoming project? Probably not, but even undead evil scientists can dream, can’t they?!? Interesting side note, his latest update is about the Franklin Castle. It’s a local haunted castle that’s actually owned by a friend of mine named Michelle. I went to college with her and my brother Richie dated her best friend, Becky, for a little bit. We actually had a great Halloween party there a few years back - before it was set afire by a crazy homeless guy. Very cool, very creepy!
And – finally – another celebrity blog. This time it’s Bear Grylls. I love his show Man vs. Wild, although, as an experienced outdoorsman with some survival training, I would never do half the stuff he does. In a survival situation, one shouldn’t take the chances he does. But, it’s good entertainment and he’s an extreme adventurer. And all this bullshit about his having faked some of the stuff on his shows? I’m really sort of “meh” about it. The guy is hard core and has proven that he’s hard core. He’s summitted Everest, he’s sailed across the Arctic Ocean, he broke his back doing a parachute jump while serving in the British SAS. The guy’s got the credibility. So he may have fudged a little bit in the best interest of entertainment. Who cares. He’s still a bad ass.
Now – back to my grilling of human flesh. Where’d I put that barbeque sauce?
I’ve admitted before how much of a geek I am. To the eternal dismay of Mrs. Zombie, I’m always going on about Star Trek, Star Wars, vampires, zombies, The Simpsons, roleplaying, or some other thing that would have made her serious doubt the wisdom of marrying me had she known about it beforehand. Well... that and how much I fart. I hid that so well that she is still amazed that I didn’t internally combust at anytime while we were dating. But I digress…
Besides being a geek, I’m unrepentant about it and KNOW that I’m a geek. I have no problem laughing at myself. That’s why I found this link listing Ten Things I Hate About Star Trek so damned funny…
In that same vein, I found this article about a mathemetician and philosopher who’s proved – mathematically – that we may actually be SIM–like denizens of some future human's computers. While it’s not so cool as being Neo and waking up in a vat of pink goo to a world darkened by a human/machine war – it’s still kind of chilling. I actually got goosebumps reading this and have been unable to stop thinking about it all morning.
This dumb chick OD’d on caffeine. This struck me as really, really fucking funny. We often joke that my brother Phil can drive drunk better than he can drive sober – but never, EVER let him have coffee. He doesn’t normally drink caffeine in any form, but the two or three times he has, he’s had accidents. It’s like the caffeine messes with his reflexes and hand eye coordination. Along the same lines, my other brother Aron actually had to go to the hospital when he was in Med School. He was popping No-Doz and had been up for like four days straight. He started to get irregular heart rhythm. That caffeine’s some hardcore shit – and I can’t personally live without it. Addiction’s a terrible thing, man…
Diamond Dave is back! Woot! I think I might go see this show. One of my dirty little secrets is that I love Van Halen. (Excuse me while I wax all Joe Dirt, “None of that Van Hagar shit! They weren’t no Van Halen with that Hagar dude!”). I actually saw David Lee Roth a couple years back. My sister had won tickets and Mrs. Zombie and I went with her and my brother-in-law. It was a small venue (of course!) and it was just pure fried cheese. Dave’s still running around in his spandex jump suit, still doing karate kicks and spinning the mike stand like he’s fighting off the forces of bad rock, and is still convinced that every girl there wants his old, wrinkled, bald ass. He still thinks it’s 1985 and he’s still the greatest rocker alive! What’s really funny is that our seats were off to the side a little bit and we could actually see behind the stage. What Dave’d do is he’d sing a song and then have his guitarist launch into a really, really long guitar solo. Dave, who’d been dancing and swirling like a Geriatric Ninja Turtle, would run back stage where an assistant would be waiting. Dave then would bend over, gasping for air as he downed a beer and smoked a cigarette until his pacemaker got his heart back into a regular rhythm. God – getting old sucks! I’ll still see this show though, and I may try to track down a mullet wig for it. Van Halen Rocks!
Check it out! I found a website for a local guy who’s into making movies and also checking out our local paranormal scene. It's called Creepy Cleveland. I was actually looking into some local haunted areas in preparation for some Halloween shenanigans. (And – it goes without saying – Halloween is Doctor Zombie’s favorite holiday!) when I ran into his site. I’ve added him to my blogroll. Check out his blog and also the site for his movie work. Maybe I can convince him to have a Doctor Zombie cameo in an upcoming project? Probably not, but even undead evil scientists can dream, can’t they?!? Interesting side note, his latest update is about the Franklin Castle. It’s a local haunted castle that’s actually owned by a friend of mine named Michelle. I went to college with her and my brother Richie dated her best friend, Becky, for a little bit. We actually had a great Halloween party there a few years back - before it was set afire by a crazy homeless guy. Very cool, very creepy!
And – finally – another celebrity blog. This time it’s Bear Grylls. I love his show Man vs. Wild, although, as an experienced outdoorsman with some survival training, I would never do half the stuff he does. In a survival situation, one shouldn’t take the chances he does. But, it’s good entertainment and he’s an extreme adventurer. And all this bullshit about his having faked some of the stuff on his shows? I’m really sort of “meh” about it. The guy is hard core and has proven that he’s hard core. He’s summitted Everest, he’s sailed across the Arctic Ocean, he broke his back doing a parachute jump while serving in the British SAS. The guy’s got the credibility. So he may have fudged a little bit in the best interest of entertainment. Who cares. He’s still a bad ass.
Now – back to my grilling of human flesh. Where’d I put that barbeque sauce?
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Lissen Up, Ya Primitive Screwheads...
what OTHER B-movie Badass would Doctor Zombie be?!?!
Which B-Movie Badass Are You?
Which B-Movie Badass Are You?
Monday, August 13, 2007
Sometimes, you're Curly...
...and all happy and "nyuk, nyuk, nyuk".
Other days you're like Moe and want to give the world an eye poke.
Today's a Moe day.
So I go to pull out my Harley last night to head over to my buddy Snake's chopper shop. I go to kick my shifter into first gear and - "snap!* - my whole shifter pops off. Turns out the shaft sheared inside the shifter lever. $39.99 to get a new gods-damned one and no riding the Harley until I get a new one. Which I can't frelling afford right now because I just spent about $400 switching the handlebars on the Harley over to frelling ape hangers.
Then, I go to leave for work this morning, and forget my lunch. I'm busy as hell as it is, so it's a colossal pain in my nuts to leave work, drive home, get my lunch, and come back within an hour. But I do it anyway and, don't you know, the Dogs of the Living Dead got into the kitchen, ravaged the wife's tupperware, and feasted upon MY lunch of Chicken Parmesan and salad. Stupid, fat ass dogs. Useless flea bags! Mangy mongrels!
On the way BACK into work, I run out of gas. While I'm there, at the side of the road, cursing my Jeep in the most uncivil and foul language I can use; a Willoughby Hills police officer stops by.
"Problem?" he asks.
"Ran out of gas." I mutter darkly.
"There's a gas station a half mile up Route 6. Make sure you push it to the side of the road." he says, as he pulls away.
"Thanks, fucker," I yell as he disappears into the distance.
So I manage to get the Jeep started up and chug it the half mile up Route 6, coasting into the gas station. As I'm filling it, the cop cames back by, giving me a thumbs up. I glare at him and give him my own thumbs up, but with a different finger.
To protect and serve my undead ass.
I wonder what else the dark, Pagan gods have in store for me today...
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Movie Review - The Descent (2005)
I’d heard good things about this movie from various sources, and had been meaning to see it for a while. So – a month or so ago, I finally got around to renting it.
All I can say is…wow!
This is a movie about a group of extremely athletic female friends who, once a year, get together to do an adventure vacation. The movie starts with them just finishing a rafting trip in Europe. As they leave, the protagonist Sarah (played by Shauna McDonald) gets into a car with her husband and daughter and, as they are driving up a winding mountain road have an accident with a truck. Sarah’s husband and young daughter are killed.
Fast forward to one year later and the girls have gotten together again. This time, one of the other characters, a woman named Juno (played by Natalie Mendoza), has arranged for the girls to go caving in North Carolina. Sarah is regretting coming, as she is still grieving, but has come because Juno has insisted. There is some underlying tension between Sarah and Juno (the reason why being revealed later), but it is largely because they were once so close. Compounding this, Sarah doesn’t so much care for these trips anymore, in her grief having realized that there are more important things. Juno senses this ambivalence and doesn’t quite understand it as she is still very much about adventuring.
So Sarah, Juno, and a group of 6 other girls head into a cave in the backwoods of North Carolina. Tension mounts as a cave-in seals the exit and the girls are forced to go deeper and deeper into the caverns in an attempt to find a way out. After the cave-in, it’s also revealed that Juno, in her continual strive to push things to the extreme, has taken them into an unexplored, unmapped cave. Essentially, they don’t know if there’s an exit – they only know that they are trapped. As if being trapped isn’t enough, they learn that they are definitely not alone in the cave.
They quickly discover that the caverns are inhabited by murderous, blind, mutated, human-like creatures with a taste for X-Games-type hotties.
This was a damn good movie. One of the best horror movies I’ve seen in a while that is pure horror. What works so well is the sense of claustrophobia that Director Neil Marshall maintains throughout the movie. Other movies have tried, but failed miserably, to give the sense of being trapped underground. The Cave, with Cole Hauser, comes to mind. Where The Cave failed, and The Descent excels – is in the tight, coffin-like feel of the passages coupled with the effective use of darkness. Where The Cave relies on beautiful, preternaturally lit grottoes and cavernous underground lakes… The Descent revels in constricting, breathtaking, what-the-fuck-is-that-outside-of-the-flashlight’s-range terror.
For instance, right before the cave-in, one of the characters get stuck in a crevasse and the terror she feels at being trapped under miles of rock is palpable. As a viewer, it is actually squirm inducing. I love when a movie can actually make me empathetically feel the horror of one of the characters. It was reminiscent, but somehow worse, then the buried alive scene from Kill Bill Vol. II.
And Neil Marshall is a great director. He’s responsible for one of my all time favorite werewolf movies, Dog Soldiers. There, as well as here, he manages to get under the viewers skin and dig out chunks of viscera with his unique vision.
The creatures themselves are scary and are good for some well placed and (gratefully) not cheap and gratuitous jump startles. The true hallmark of a good horror movie, and one of the things that Doctor Zombie loves to the depths of his cold, undead heart, is when a movie surprises me and gets my ticker going. A good jump startle should not be telegraphed. As a lover of all things horror, I’ve become inured to many horror movies. If you’ve seen enough of them, you can mentally say to yourself, “Fuck. Here comes the part where the cat jumps out of the closet. Sigh.”
God how I hate that.
This movie, however, doesn’t telegraph the terror and it’s this sort of true sinister filmmaking that so wooed me. There’s a scene where one of the women is looking through a night vision camcorder and we get our first introduction to the CHUDS. This scene, besides being filmed beautifully, actually made the Doctor startle and squeak. That was, of course, quickly followed by a giggle as I was so tickled by being scared. I’ve become numb to many horror flicks and being startled happens so seldom nowadays that it makes me giddy like a schoolgirl when it does happen.
What’s more, the ending is – quite possibly – one of the most beautifully haunting and horrifically memorable endings of a horror movie I’ve seen in quite some time.
At its heart, this movie is about a group of women trying to survive. I’d heard beforehand that it was a cool statement on “Girl Power” and this quite honestly sort of steered me away from it. I thought that it was going to be another unrealistic action flick where the characters rig up air tanks to make flamethrowers and use piton guns to fight off the evil monsters in some heroic, and cringe-worthy Uwe Boll showdown. This movie is – fortunately – so much more than that. In fact, it isn’t like that at all. It is a claustrophobic, deliciously chilling horror movie about a group of girls in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with no fucking way out. On top of that, each character is developed and Neil Marshall gives you a reason to care about their being eaten alive by pasty, inhuman, grotesque, cannibalistic monsters.
Final word? This movie is on the Doctor’s must own list and is highly recommended if you’re looking for a well crafted, emotional, smart horror film. Turn off the lights, cuddle up on the couch, and enjoy! It’s well worth the rental!
Doctor Zombie’s Rating: 5 out of 5 Chomped Brains!!!
Movie Review - Slither (2006)
Let me start off by saying that I absolutely loved this movie.
I wanted to get that out of the way beforehand as I want to make it clear how biased this movie review is going to be. Slither is,without a doubt, one of the best horror movies of 2006.
This movie has it all, friends. It’s got alien invasions. It’s got zombies. It’s got blood, gore, and a partially nude chick in a bath tub. During a crucial love scene, it’s got Air Supply. Air-fucking-Supply! How do you beat that?
The movie tells the story of a small town invaded by an alien one quiet, summer night. The main characters are Bill Pardy (played by Nathan Fillion), Elizabeth Grant (played by the very hot Elizabeth Banks), Grant Grant (played by the incomparable Michael Rooker), Kylie (by the equally hot Tania Saulnier),and an outstanding cast of supporting characters. Bill Pardy’s the sheriff of the small town who’s never quite got over losing the love of his life, Elizabeth, to local rich guy, Grant Grant. Grant, on the other hand, doesn’t realize how good he’s got it. He’s out in the woods, trying to get some extra-marital nookie with local girl Brenda (Brenda James) when he runs into a meteor and its deadly occupant.
Grant is infected by an alien who hops from planet to planet, conquering and eating every living thing on it before moving on to another planet. Cue the madness as Michael Rooker spends the majority of the film chewing up the scenery (and a big chunk of the small town) as he changes into a slimy, octopoid creature. He infects Brenda with his evil, alien seed and she balloons up as big as a house with the wriggling, wormlike progeny of the alien. These little slugs then attack the town, forcefully squishing their way into people's mouths - where they turn their hapless victims into shambling, murderous zombies.
Dear dark gods… can this movie rock anymore?!?
This film excels in so many ways it’s actually hard to pinpoint what makes it so great. The special effects were super. In a world where every gods damned movie you see is nothing but CGI, there was some refreshing mechanical and makeup creature effects. The CGI that there was, was well done and melded seamlessly with the action. The gore effects were a slice of fried gold, friends.
The true winner here, though, was the script. Writer and Director James Gunn showed true genius in crafting a script that, while faithful to the conventions of a horror movie, also maintained a razor-like balance of humor throughout. Gunn hails from a respectable horror heritage that includes work with the Troma company, as well as having written the Dawn of the Dead (2004) script, and you can tell that he loves horror like we all do. He’s a fan, and he’s living the dream. And Slither is, without a doubt, his greatest accomplishment to date.
The best scripts in the world are as only as good as the actors who bring it to life, though. Imagine, for instance, that George Lucas has passed on Sir Alec Guinness as Obi Wan Kenobi in the original Star Wars trilogy. Say, instead, that he chose Jerry Lewis. Think about that for a minute and send me hate mail later for putting that image in your head. (“Glaa-Aa! I just felt a great disturbance in the Fo-Orce! Lay-ay-dy!”)
That said, I think Gunn made the perfect casting choice with Nathan Fillion. I have to admit that I’m a big fan of Nathan Fillion. He’s the reason I love Firefly and Serenity so much. (Well, him and the character Jane. You gotta love gorram Jane!). I’ve actually been a fan of all of the work I’ve seen him do. From Two Guys, A Girl, And A Pizza Place to his turn as the evil preacher in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And the thing that makes me like him so much is that he has a way of delivering a line that imbues levels of humor, believability, and Everyman-ness that appeals to me. And he’s found the perfect vehicle for this in the character of Bill Pardy.
(Over on Phronk’s site – I saw a news posting that Joss Whedon may consider a Serenity II if the special DVD of Serenity I does well at Christmas. Whether this is true - or a ploy to increase DVD sales via Browncoats{Firefly/Serenity fans} - I admit I’m a little giddy at the thought! I love Serenity!)
This movie, besides being a great gore fest, is a laugh riot and has some of the funniest lines ever committed to paper. And Nathan Fillion and Micheal Rooker both breathe so much life and humor into their characters. I’d be remiss in not mentioning another great character who comes close to stealing every scene he’s in. Greg Henry, who’s made a career out of playing slimy, weasel-y, dirt bags outdoes himself with his portrayal of Mayor Jack MacReady. He’s an unapologetic and selfish prick who could care less that his ambition and own self interest outweighs any altruism or sense of public service.
This movie, besides being fun to watch, also gives one the sense that it was a blast to make it. Every actor enjoys their parts and Gunn gave them license to let go and just enjoy the hell out of it.
So, in the final analysis, I’d say that – with no doubt – this is essential horror viewing dear readers. Zombies, aliens, various oozing and exploding body parts, humor, horror all commingled to make this – as I said before – one of the best horror films to come out in years. Go. Go now! Go rent the DVD and revel in the unabashed splatter fest that this movie is.
Doctor Zombie’s Rating: 5 out of 5 Chomped Brains!!!
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