Episode the Last is from Season Four, and it's entitled "Piledriver."
The show opens with a twist on Scooby Doo, with a nice joke for the voice-chasers out there -- Zorak (originally voiced by Don Messick) is subbing in for Scooby (originally voiced by, yes, Don Messick).
Rob Zombie has a few minutes, during which he denies feasting on the flesh of humans, but most of the screentime in this episode goes to another member of Tad's family, his grampa, Leonard Ghostal. Gramps is voiced by Randy Savage, and it seems his character is an old wrestler, who showed Moltar's dad whatfor a few decades ago.
Raven-Symone brags about having met Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson. I don't wanna start rumors, but have we considered a Raven-Symone curse of some kind?
Then Zorak and Moltar enact an old-school wrestling ambush, and Grampy Space Ghost is down. They blame Raven for it, of course, and Spacey believes them. Of course.
Zorak gets his, of course, and then Grampy's ride stops by, en route to beating up Mary Hart.
As an episode of SGC2C, I rate this 3/10. I'm not much of a wrestling fan, so the unified theme of this episode doesn't do much for me. My favorite part is the 30-second opening gag. (Apparently, I'm in the minority here -- I get the impression a lot of people love this one. YMMV.)
As a Halloween show, I rate this 2/10. Scoob and the gang aren't doing anything spooky, and Raven-Symone wasn't even a psychic yet. Spacey's opening joke ("What do you get when you cross a Zombie with a Raven?") is the only Halloween-related content here. It's my fault really; I just saw Rob Zombie and assumed there might be some horror talk. I'll try to find a festive one in December to make up for it.
Episode the Third is "Switcheroo," from Season Three.
Space Ghost is interviewing Susan "Youngest One In Curls" Olsen, when his evil twin shows up and tries to take his place. For a few moments, Spacey doesn't notice. Y'know, since he's so smart. After insulting Susan a bit, the evil twin demands Elvira, so he can flirt with her. Elvira announces she's working on several projects (I keep forgetting she wrote a handful of books -- I should find one sometime).
Spacey returns, and demands the return of Susan Olsen. He's immediately called away again, and the twin makes Moltar bring Elvira back. Space Ghost finally realizes his evil twin, Chad Ghostal, is the one causing this week's confusion about the guests, and they prepare to duel. Luckily, Mother Ghostal intervenes, just in time for another impostor to make an appearance, to end the show.
My favorite Zorak moment in this one is possibly my favorite Zorak joke ever, as seen to the right there.
This show also has a great Moltar joke, which I haven't seen many of in this random collection: asked if he has rocks in his head, Moltar says, "Well, actually..."
Besides the iconic Zorak joke, I love the recurring sound effect joke of the little kid saying "whoosh" every time Space Ghost flies up out of sight. I've watched this twice in two days, and laughed literally every time. (This isn't new, either. I've seen this episode several times before. I conservatively estimate I've laughed at that "whoosh" at least 50 times over the years.)
As an episode of SGC2C, I rate this one 8/10. It's still got the classic early-years guest banter, plus a helping of the later-era bizarre surrealism. I love "whoosh."
As a Halloween show, I rate this 8/10. Besides all the Elvira content, there's an evil twin, and a creepy closeup of that sticky icky eye. Yeccch. There's even a trick-or-treater at the door.
I've written about Monster Mansion twicebefore, and those two posts provide a good introduction to what it is and why I care about it.
To sum up: it's an exclusive dark ride at Six Flags Over Georgia, with over 100 animatronics, a bunch of 4D effects, and a catchy, catchy theme song.
Rather than repeat anything else from what I just linked to, I'll just say this: I've only gotten to ride it once this year, and found that this soundtrack CD is no longer for sale at the park.
I'm not terribly surprised by that, really -- it was a niche product, and frankly they probably sold as many as they could, realistically. (I was also impressed with the physical item -- the CD booklet folded out to make that attraction poster, which I kinda wanted to frame.)
So I decided I would make this available to download for you. A lot of you who aren't theme park nerds won't care, but the rest of you might. So I zipped up the CD with all the artwork and a few extra things I've collected here and there. (If you like theme parks and aren't following the Goddard Group on Facebook, you should fix that immediately.)
If any of the owners or creative folks behind this are upset with my sharing, I'll pull it down immediately. Obviously, I own nothing and am just a huge fan of this unlikely, weird, wonderful achievement. I'd hate awfully to upset any of you. (If your contracts allow, you should consider making the music available digitally -- low overhead, and it can stay in print forever.)
Space Ghost is interviewing Michael Norman, a ghost "expert." Norman admits this is his first actual encounter with a ghost, and takes the opportunity to pepper Ghosty with a few questions. Dangit, as a skeptical-know-it-all-jerk, I wanted to hate Michael Norman, but he seems to have a good sense of humor about the show and himself. It's fun to watch him probe Space Ghost with questions, even to the point of blasting.
Then, one of my favorite knowing skeptics, Bill Nye, shows up for just a moment to remind us there is still much science has to learn, like how a ghost can live in space. And then it's over.
My favorite Zorak moment in this episode is, of course: "Blast him! Blast him! Blast him!"
As an episode of SGC2C, I rate this 8/10. Zorak's "Blast him!" is iconic, and the scratch-audio joke at the end is perfect.
As a Halloween show, I rate this 6/10. Plenty of ghost talk, and Tad even gets to go "OooooOOOOOooooo."
Well, I sat through it, so I might as well talk about it. It's 1973's cheaper, more insulting, less competent answer to Blacula. It's Blackenstein (The Black Frankenstein).
I dunno, maybe I was expecting too much from this movie. My memories of Blacula were of a movie that was, yeah, a little slow, but at least technically competent. At worst, I figured this would be a hilarious collection of 70s fashion and wah-wah guitars and "jive sucka" dialogue. And I got none of those things.
Let's run down the list of things the movie does wrong: First, and most importantly, it's technically a mess. It's poorly edited, both in picture and sound. The music seems to be stock horror music (there are a couple original songs, which are good enough, if you like that sort of thing, and I do), but it just jumps into and out of scenes, sometimes literally from shot to shot. The dirty, scratched, faded film print used for this DVD does nobody any favors either. Much of the film is way too dark. Watching this in a darkened room, on a nice big TV, I shouldn't have to squint to see if anything is happening (frequently it wasn't).
The script is a poor excuse for a first draft. We're told the white Dr. Stein (Do ya get it? Huh? Do ya?) won "The Nobel Peace Prize for medicine." There's a lot of talk about DNA and RNA, which nobody seems to understand. Despite all the DNA talk, they pull out the same old Van de Graaff generators to perform Eddie's operations. (I'm assuming the rental of those machines took up a large portion of the budget, since they get waaaay too much screen time.)
Eddie is a disabled Vietnam vet. That's an important, interesting topic, and for a few minutes, we think the movie has something to say about it: the attendant at the VA has an ... interesting monologue about it, but the movie's just setting him up to be the first victim. For this film, Vietnam is only a plot device to disable a man, so he can become a monster and the producers can make some money.
The movie has a serious problem with women. Eddie only kills women (he attacks several men, but only women die on screen). I'm disturbed that, like a lot of cheapo exploitation movies from the time, this confuses sex with violence -- we see the breasts of three women, of whom two die violently onscreen, and the third barely escapes with her life. Oh yeah, and there's a LOT of sexual assault in this movie. Our heroine is victimized by a madman (who also altered the DNA formula which changed Eddie into Blackenstein, if you were wondering), and another random woman walks away from a date rapist only to die at the hands of Blackenstein. There's a third sexual assault in an alley, and Eddie kills both parties.
And, believe it or not, that's not the worst part of the film. As far as I can tell, none of the makers of this film were black, and it shows. The movie spends NO time talking about the politics of race in 1973 America, which would make sense if the film addressed those issues as metaphor. Frankenstein is RIPE for the metaphorical plucking, but this movie can't be bothered. This movie doesn't understand what it looks like when the "good" white man beats a savage, imprisoned black man with a chain. This movie doesn't understand what it looks like when police set dogs on a black man, and the dogs literally rip his guts out onscreen.
Sidebar: there is a scholarly book out there which addresses these issues in the film very seriously. I've scanned a few pages on Google Books, and I'd LOVE to read the whole thing. Take a look (if you can, skip to page 196 for the relevant passage).
I'd like to give the filmmakers credit, and think they knew these things meant something. I'd like to think these decisions were deliberate and thought-through. Unfortunately, the technical ineptitude and lack of effort in every other part of the movie convince me that the whole thing is a slapdash money grab.
I always give you a buy link, but don't buy this. Don't watch it.
Others have said it, and I'll agree: Clay Croker was a weird comedic genius: one of the founding minds behind Adult Swim, and one of the primary voices in my beloved Space Ghost Coast to Coast. In his honor, we're watching three four episodes of the show, with some spooky guests. (None of the eps are embeddable, though they're all currently free-to-stream, so click on through. I'll wait.)
Episode the first is from Season Two, entitled "Girlie Show."
Spacey has arranged a tribute, of sorts, to Women in the Entertainment Industry. Moltar shows us a montage of womanly arts, thanks to the Turner/MGM film library, (Zorak, of course, wants a tribute to Jack Klugman instead, so he goes on strike.) Fran Drescher appears, and Space Ghost, naturally, falls in love with her.
And after Ghosty learns that Fran is married, and Zorak taunts him with the idea of her (speculative) marriage to The Professor from Gilligan's Island, Carol Channing attempts to bolster his spirits with her upbeat, sparkling joy. (It doesn't work, partly because she also turns down his advances.)
So, naturally, determined to charm his way into the third beautiful guest's heart, he calls for the lovely Alice Cooper. Yep, sometimes Thaddeus Ghostal doesn't know much about anything at all. Alice tells us that he was born wearing eye makeup, though he never killed or bit anything on stage, really. And then he's gone too, and Zorak takes over with a montage of Klugmania.
My favorite Zorak moment from this episode: I love that when Space Ghost warns Zorak to watch his mouth, he can't, since "it's too ... underneathy." (Also, like so many other episodes, there's a bit where Zorak and Moltar both laugh at Space Ghost, and the two laughs are very very distinct, even though they're both Mr. Croker.)
As an episode of SGC2C, I rate this 6/10. It's a great early show, with plenty of banter between Space Ghost, Zorak, and Moltar.
As a Halloween show, I rate this 3/10. Alice doesn't get to do any scary stuff, but Zorak does mention The Twilight Zone. (The answer to his trivia question, by the way, is four!) The underscore to Zorak's Klugman montage is properly nightmarish, but short.
Holy crap, y'all. It's taken weeks for me to corral my thoughts about this movie, but it's stuck with me all that time. And I imagine it'll stay with me forever.
In the Austrian countryside, twins are playing that special summer play, the kind with long stretches of both inventive exuberance and drawn-out boredom. Then their mother comes home. She's had surgery (which kind? we're not sure) after an accident (which kind? we're not quite sure) and her face is swathed in terrifying bandages. As she issues orders for her recuperation, the boys start to wonder -- can this be the same person they love and trust? (We're not sure.)
As the film progresses, we watch the boys entertain themselves as best they can, while teasing out the mysteries of their mother -- why is the family album missing so many photos? Why are Mom's eyes a different color? And who is that other woman in the picture who resembles their mother so strongly?
As a boy and brother myself, I found myself watching most of the movie from the twins' point of view, though a lot of scenes do justice to the mother. As the film's POV switches from one to the other, we question almost everything. Dreams mesh with the surreality of the true world of this film, and until the last half-hour we're almost in a suspended, Poe-like reverie of wonder and apprehension.
Sidebar: I'm three years older than my brother, and apparently I spoke for him for almost two years. I can't imagine I always got his feelings right, but until our doctor deliberately separated us, I was his mouthpiece to the world. (Speaking to another friend who's a big brother, I learned this is more common than I expected.) During the scenes where the twins interact with the outside world, I could only think of my own family history. Sure, my parents were great, but it must've been hard for them, and him, to put up with me talking even more than I normally do.
Like Carnival of Souls, this film uses dreams to heighten suspense and trick us with reassurances that the worst, most supernatural things are only a dream. Like The Shining, it uses cold, stylistic discipline and an oppressive score/sound design to remove any hints of cozy domestic happiness from family scenes. And like Eyes Without A Face, its unflinching, clinical fascination with pain is a study in anguish. And like each of those, it contains moments of sly dark humor, though it's a different stripe of uncomfortable laughter.
The film is so spare that it's almost expansive, and it supports any number of readings. Here's a great essay from the mother's point of view, and one that reads it as a study in national guilt (which seems pretty unfair to me, mainly because I didn't even consider that framework while watching). Of course, a more general review can touch on all those themes and more. This movie is kind of a litmus test -- people who can't stand the squishy horror parts recoil after the third-act tonal shift, while actual fans of torture porn will probably not enjoy the first hour of storytelling. Me? I loved the hell out of it, and I recommend it wholeheartedly.
(A note on the buylink here: the movie is currently free-to-stream for those with Amazon Prime.)
For someone who claims to be writing about media and culture, I sure do spend a lot of time talking about food. Well, no matter.
This year, the Peeps people (Peeps peeps, I suppose) put out their threeflavors from last year, plus a new retail exclusive, Maple Brown Sugar. When you open this package, it smells like you just spilled maple syrup all over your shirt. The smell alone is amazing, and the flavor combination in the actual marshmallow chick is flawless. I don't think the white fudge here is actually needed (in fact, of the four dipped Peep flavors I've tried, only the caramel apple was truly justified), but it doesn't wreck the rich, dark sweetness of these.
I know it's late in the Halloween candy-buying season, but my local Target still had quite a few of these left, so you may be in luck if you still want to try them. As I mentioned, these can only be purchased at brick-and-mortar stores, but the other three seasonal flavors are still for sale:
Today we're looking at a few of Young Frankenstein's ancillary products (where, of course, the REAL money is made).
This is from a line of gorgeous Sideshow Collectibles figures from 2001. Until today, I'd never taken mine out of the box. He's gorgeous, and looks just like Gene as Frederick.
His accessories include operating tools and a stethoscope, his lightning goggles, a nice textured stand, and a copy of his grandfather's book.
He has all the expected points of articulation for free posing (including a full range of motion at the ankles, which is nice) and stands about a foot high.
Sadly, I don't have the other two figures in this set (they also made an Igor and a Monster, of course) but you can look at them, and maybe even buy one, at this eBay link.
If I have a little extra time and energy before the month is out, maybe you'll see some more of this guy.
Also sadly, I don't have any of the more recent Funko toys. As you can see, they've chosen the same character lineup, but with a more stylised, cutesier design. (Well, ugly-cute, but that's in keeping with the franchise.)
They're shorter, too, so maybe I only want the Igor to keep my Sideshow Frederick company. Luckily, these guys are still widely available, and I just added all of them to my Amazon Wishlist.
As I mentioned in my last post, I haven't seen or read Mel's new book about the film yet, but I hope to very soon. And of course, there have always been T-shirts and soundtrack albums and tie-in magazine covers and the Young Frankenstein Flame Thrower ("A Children's Toy").
That video puts a happy spin on Mel's followup to his Producers bonanza, but the reviews and grosses weren't nearly as good. I'll be honest, I'm not much of a Broadway musical guy. (For some reason, the sound of a modern pitband grates on my nerves.) I saw The Producers (on a later tour, and then the movie version, which I preferred), and I enjoyed it well enough. But I didn't feel the need to ever see it again, or even rewatch the film version. I prefer the original film so much to either adaptation that, at least until Mel leaves us, I probably won't even relisten to the songs (which I remember as okay, but they didn't inspire me to buy the album).
Over on my Twitter feed, I compulsively notate every album I listen to, and this month I've done a lot of Halloween-themed listening. I heard this for the first time right after the Addams Family musical, which I enjoy whole-heartedly. I'm afraid Young Frankenstein pales in comparison, though.
A lot of the movie fits well into a musical-theater structure, and a lot of the movie's most important moments are well-represented in song (I really enjoyed the full treatment of "Roll In The Hay," based on just five seconds of the movie). But, while the songs work well musically, a lot of the lyrics aren't particularly clever. So much time is spent on innuendo that we don't get a lot of wordplay, or even much emotion or character development.
Sidebar: on the topic of "Deep Love," the part of the movie that has dated the worst is the Monster's rape of Elizabeth (to be fair, this was hinted at way back in Whale's 1931 film, but playing it for laughs is deeply troublesome). I get the impression (just from the songs, since I haven't seen a production) that they attempted to soften the blow of this by having Elizabeth be a recovered slut (which is, to my mind, just as troublesome). I know the movie is beloved, and any big change will alienate a lot of the core fanbase, but I think a change was possible that could avoid slut shaming and victim blaming in this case.
I don't think I'll ever love this musical adaptation, and I'm sad it's not better. I can't imagine a better film than Young Frankenstein. I can certainly imagine much better musicals made from it.
Today, we're all about Young Frankenstein, Mel Brooks' best movie by far. Sure, Blazing Saddles may be funnier, but this one is stunning to look at, full of heart, and even the score is gorgeous. (Why oh why is the soundtrack out of print? I don't even have my LP copy to listen to anymore.)
200 years ago, Mary Wollstonecraft had a dream about a scientist creating a human, and that led to her invention of science fiction. Some 150 years later, also inspired by a dream, Gene Wilder sat down with a yellow legal pad and wrote a few pages of story about the grandson of Frankenstein. Once the ideas were developed, Mel Brooks brought the story to life (with help from a lot of the same cast and crew from Blazing Saddles).
Sidebar: How weird is it that both those films were released in just ten months? I'd argue that no director has ever had a better year in film history than Mel's 1974. (Okay, Spielberg's 1993 was pretty amazing.)
I've probably seen this one 20 times, so the movie holds no surprises for me anymore (though I was still sad I didn't get a chance to see it during its recent, brief revival on the big screen). While almost all the jokes hold up to repeated viewing, today I was amazed at how emotional the film can still make me.
Reading obituaries and tributes to Gene Wilder, I kept reading that he made things funny by keeping them real and heartfelt. I hadn't put that together, since I saw most of his best work during my most formative years and wasn't always paying attention to emotions in hilarious comedies. But even with something as early as The Producers, Leo Bloom is hilarious only because we can care about him. This movie takes the time to let us sympathize with the characters (otherwise the frenetic jokes would be less funny, like a Scary Movie-type spoof). The scene with the creature in jail, being tormented by his keepers, has no laughs at all -- it exists just to stir our hearts.
The movie also takes the time to set scenes. Long, moody shots of the village and castle, and plenty of time for us to hear the score, not only ground the jokes, but make the whole conceit funnier as a specific parody of James Whale's movies about Frank. (The funniest scenes, for me, are particular burlesques of scenes from Whale.)
Sidebar #2: Like a few previous entries here, Greg Proops presented this film at his film club, where he recorded a podcast of jokes and commentary. He also relates his memories of Wilder and Marty Feldman. Listen to it here.
2016 has been a brutal year in a lot of ways (no politics talk here, promise). I was upset to lose David Bowie and Prince, but neither of them hurt me as much as the loss of Gene Wilder. He hasn't been doing much lately, but I love him as a person, and his best work stands as some of the best funny movies ever made. (I haven't seen all his work, but I get the impression that a lot of the 80s stuff is, franky, skippable.) There hasn't been a year since I started high school that I haven't seen, and enjoyed, and been cheered up by, a film of his. On hearing of his death, I didn't do a memorial watch of everything, like I did with Harold Ramis, but so much of Gene's work lives in my heart and inspires my sense of both comedy and art.
I'm glad that Mel is still around (and very much in the public eye) to carry the torch for all the departed friends who made this film, and that he still hangs out with Carl Reiner every day. (As if it weren't bad enough that Mel lost Anne Bancroft, Sid Caesar left us this year too.) I haven't yet read his book about this movie, but I definitely intend to.
This movie is indelible for comedy fans and horror fans, and even just for fans of movies in general. I'd argue that it's the best parody film ever, mostly because of its attention to detail and loving tribute to the genre. Also, it's so beloved that, like Universal's Frank franchise (Frank-chise? probably not), it's spawned lots of peripheral products, like toys and stage productions and such. Tomorrow, I'm talking about two of them.
I know very well that I'm kind of cheating here, counting this in my Frank theme. There are dozens and dozens of Frankenstein movies out there, and this isn't really one of them. But I'd never seen it before, and I was interested in James Whale (though I expected this film to spend more time on the making of his films).
James Whale directed the first two Universal Frankenstein movies, along with The Invisible Man and several other classic films, and this film imagines his final days, befriending a gardener and looking back over his life and memories.
Whale did indeed have a fascinating life, though the main story told in this movie is completely fictional. The film is sweet and sentimental (though not cloying). And, honestly, I feel like it deals with Shelley's original friendship themes better than any of the official Frank movies I've seen.
Sidebar: While watching Whale's memories of World War One trenches, I couldn't help but think about Walt Disney, driving an ambulance in Paris at the same time. The two men both lived through horrors I can only imagine and survived to create warm, humane films which entertained the world.
Ian McKellen is, of course, remarkable as Whale, and it's amazing to think how unknown he was to mainstream movie audiences at the time (Roger Ebert even felt he had to identify McKellen as a well-regarded stage actor for his readers). And Brendan Fraser, who'd follow up on a Universal horror franchise of his own the next year, was best known as a lowbrow goofball. I can't imagine a more unlikely pair of actors to make Oscarbait in 1998. But that's kind of the point, and they click together and create something real. It's touching to watch the two simply interact, and warm to each other.
This movie, as I said, wasn't exactly what I expected, and I don't think I'll feel the need to see it every time I watch Whale's work (as I do with Ed Wood). But it's a sweet, sad piece of work, and it's great to know more about James Whale as a person.
Say hi to Aughra there, my newest spooky friend and this month's official food model.
This is at least the second year TruMoo have put out an orange-flavored milk for Halloween (tied into that Trolls movie now, apparently). I've always had a soft spot for strawberry milk, but my all-time favorite dessert is an orange Creamsicle.
This milk isn't nearly as sweet as you think it will be (a quick calorie count tells us that it only has about half the sugar in, say, I don't know, a Sunkist orange soda), so it's not a rich dessert milkshakey flavor. I'd say it works best to wash down a rich cookie, either vanilla or chocolate.
In fact, I think I'd want the cookie to be heavily vanilla, because this milk doesn't really have enough vanilla in it to hit my perfect spot -- I think I'm actually going to put a drop of vanilla extract into my next glass.
Anyway, we've got more Frankenstein posts coming up, and Aughra and I will tell you about the new seasonal Peeps flavor, plus I'm planning to share a whole album of spooky music before the month ends.
(And since TruMoo doesn't sell anything online -- I got mine at Walmart, though I've seen their stuff in plenty of convenience and grocery stores -- today's buy link will help you get your own Aughra to have dinner with, and then maybe discuss cosmology.)
Sidebar: Mason would, of course, go on to play Nabokov's famous pervert Humbert Humbert a few years later, and Mason and Humbert both adored Poe. "Annabel Lee" plays a huge part in Lolita, both book and film, and you can hear Mr. Mason reading that poem, and the full text of "The Tell-Tale Heart," from a recording made in 1959.
I love the UPA animation style -- all blocky and textured, and focused more on design and mood than movement or simple gags. Of course, this one has no laughs at all, and is so moody that the British Film Board classified this cartoon as "X," for adults only.
It was unusual at the time to have a cartoon ignore comedy, and what's even more unusual is its pedigree: the writer was Bill Scott, who would go on to write Rocky and Bullwinkle (and voice the antlered member of that duo until his death), and the director would also make his name directing the moose and squirrel.
This film is stylized and impressionistic, in keeping with the story's wholly unreliable narrator. The film inexplicably links the fearful eye with mundane objects, turning a water jug or a clock's face into objects of horror. I love the poetry of the shadows, and the whole bold ambitious spirit. This is great animation art.
(A note on today's buy link: the only way to purchase this film, as far as I can tell, is on the original DVD release of Hellboy. But it's cheap, and would be worth it just to have this cartoon forever.)
I just watched Green Room, a low-budget indie film from this year. You may have heard of it, since it has a few stars in it and was very very well-reviewed. It's been on my to-watch list for a little bit.
A low-end punk band, The Ain't Rights, get stiffed on a job. Their replacement job is a rough one, playing for politically questionable hardcases (okay, they're white supremacists) in the middle of nowhere. The gig starts out rocky, but they manage to win over the crowd. Of course, then, something goes terribly wrong. It's tense and brutally effective, watching the band struggle to get out from under. I don't watch much horror, certainly not many current films. This is more of a siege thriller than a horror film, and while there's one (arguably gratuitous) piece of gore, it's mostly just enough blood to keep us grounded in the reality of the situation.
There's a lot of terror in the idea of a calm, implacable evil that cannot be reasoned with. The bad guys in this movie aren't particularly malicious, just cold-blooded criminals trying to eliminate witnesses. Their level-headed patience and endless resources feel not just unconquerable, but inescapable.
A word on the actors: Patrick Stewart is the main draw for this film, even if his American accent isn't perfect. I was expecting him to go to more chilling depths for his villain, though maybe the script didn't give him leeway to get bone-deep. I've never seen young Mr. Yelchin in anything before, though his portrayal seems perfectly fine, and I can see why people are mourning his loss. Of course, I also enjoyed seeing Alia Shawkat in this (as I would in anything) and enjoyed her non-sexualized role as just another musician.
Finally, the director's previous film was called Blue Ruin(it sounds good, by the way). This is Green Room.
BLUE RuiN
GREEN RooM
If we follow the ROY G BIV progression on the first words of each title, and the alphabetic progression of the last letter, his next film should be called Yellow Rule. I'm looking forward to it..
I think I've mentioned before that my knowledge of horror is almost all self-directed, so I haven't seen a lot of the best or most-respected movies, or read a lot of the best books. Until this year, I had never seen this film, usually voted one of the scariest movies of all time. I saw the director's 2000 recut of the film, and it sounds like most of his changes made the movie worse, rather than better.
I don't believe in demons, possession, spooks, haints, ghosts, or exorcism. This is probably the main reason I didn't find the movie particularly gripping or scary. (Sorry, fans of this movie. Nothing personal.) I can usually turn off, or at least ignore, my skeptical brain while watching fantasy or horror movies, but this film's insistence that it's kinda-sorta based on a true story rubbed me the wrong way (also why I have never seen The Amityville Horror). Let's be clear: exorcism isn't real. It does real-life harm to real-life people, and I can't separate that real-life pain from the escapist fun I should have from a genre movie.
With all that said, I did find a lot of the movie unsettling and shocking, even if it didn't scare me. The sedate opening surprised me by its placid slowness, though some of the rougher, later edits unsettled me and surprised me more. Individual pieces of the movie are shocking, and some of them are effective emotional assaults. I couldn't help but feel the mother's pain and frustration during the first part of the film, though the later torturous excesses shut down my emotions. I still found myself responding, from time to time, from my lizard-brain instincts -- a good trick in a good film. Here, I just felt cheated and almost condescended to by the film.
So many parts of this film have become culturally-known, of course, that I had their surprises spoiled through osmosis. It would be interesting to have seen the movie, not knowing what Father Karras's mother is alleged to be doing in hell, or to be taken aback by the vomit and head-spinning. That is no fault of the movie, of course, but I'm not sure how much more pleasure I could have gotten from those scenes anyway. Would the movie have been more shocking? Yes. Better? Not to me, no.
I haven't yet heard a review of the new TV show based on this movie (though I can't imagine I'd be interested in seeing it). Apparently, this year there's also a house at Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights based on this, which is rumored to be more conceptual and sounds at least intriguing. This idea feels (to me) better suited to a jump-scare gross-out theme park attraction than a feature film.
I've got more Frankenstein posts coming soon, but first -- more food!!!
For a few years now, my mother and I have been addicted to the Krispy Kreme Pumpkin Spice cake doughnuts. The density and heaviness of the cake works with these flavors, and the glaze puts a perfect touch on the warm spices.
Finally, this year they're also available in a smaller size. I like the little Krispy Juniors -- they're identical in taste and texture to the full-sized ones, but the serving size is more to my current needs. I've been working on this bag all week, literally since the last time I wrote a post, and I'm not done yet. I'm about to eat my last one, microwaved for a few seconds, and then maybe a cold glass of milk.
(I couldn't find a buy link for the smaller ones, though I imagine they're in grocery stores all over the South. The full-size ones are great too though, I promise.)
James Whale's sequel to his first Frankenstein film came four years later, and after he made a successful different Universal monster movie, The Invisible Man. It's widely agreed that Bride of Frankenstein is Whale's masterpiece.
Whale and several screenwriters took years to come up with a story worth telling, and teased a few philosophical points from the Shelley novel, while creating new twists on the original film's themes. Since the first film's release, a new and vigorous censor had come to power in Hollywood, so the film has less than half the murders originally scripted for it, and focuses a lot more on fantastical horror, rather than gruesome realities.
The film opens with an elaborate sequence featuring Mary Shelley herself, along with her husband and Lord Byron, who clamor for more story (while recapping the first film). Shelley tells her audience that she has some ideas for a continuation. So the Creature survives the original film's ending, as does his creator.
As the Creature menaces the film's most irritating character (a comic-relief servant), Henry Frankenstein is taken home to recover from his injuries. Almost immediately, he is taken away again by his old mentor, a crazed philosopher, Dr. Pretorius. Pretorius wants to collaborate with Henry, and has something to show him.
Dr. Pretorius's campy character and miniature creations feel like a (nearly silly) diversion from the original story, but they're a symptom of the changed tone. While Henry and the Creature undergo more humanistic adventures, the true mad scientist of this film is (like Byron in the prologue) a proudly irreverent God-scoffer. Pretorius dines in a crypt, laughs at Henry's attempts to live within conventional morality, and blackmails murderers to further his own ego-driven ends.
This film spends some time explicitly pointing out that man isn't meant to play God (even putting those words into Shelley's mouth in the prologue, though her own stated goals in the novel didn't include that). I don't know how much of this is due to the new censor, or just an overabundance of moralistic caution, but it feels too preachy. In a film where two characters mock God in speech, I'm not sure we also need to be reminded that mocking him in practice is bad. The repeated cross symbolism is almost overbearing. (Though, apparently, my least favorite example, a lingering image of a wall-mounted Christ during a fadeout, was neither Whale's idea, nor liked by him.)
A lot of the original cast had moved on (for health or other reasons) since the first film, so several characters were recast. As someone watching the two films back-to-back (something the movies weren't designed for, and which would almost never have happened when they were released), I found it jarring to have a different person playing Elizabeth (and, less so, the burgomaster). The shifts in tone and recasting, and the addition of a more prominent musical score, make the film noticeably different from its precursor. It's loopier, more creative, though no less horrific.
And, it should be said, it's also more human. Henry's attempts at emotional recovery feel almost like a metaphor for addiction, while the Creature's repeated attempts to find companionship earn our sympathy. Of course, the sweet scenes with the blind hermit memorably tease the Creature (and us) with potential domestic contentment. More than the rest of the film, these scenes succeed at one of Shelley's original stated goals from the novel, the one to remind us how much better friendship is than almost anything else.
This sequel is much more complex, more deeply-layered, than the first film. It's got the same depth of moody shadows, the same obsession with death and rebirth, but it's also more thoughtful, more expressive, funnier and more horrible. It's just got so much more movie in it.
How do you do? I feel it would be a little unkind to present this blog post without just a friendly word of warning: it might even horrify you! Well, we warned you.
James Whale's classic film adaptation has proven to be the most indelible version of Mary Shelley's beloved monster. From its endless atmospherics to Karloff's brilliant portrayal, all the parts join together to sum up the melodramatic horror.
There's a reason this film is still revered and beloved, emulated and quaked at. Whale's moody, introspective lighting and staging cemented Universal's place at the center of the monster-movie universe. (Tod Browning's Dracula, ten months earlier, is also note-perfect in every respect, but this second masterwork proved that horror could repeatedly succeed artistically and financially. This film, even more than Dracula, proved the worth of a monster franchise that Universal is still working on today.) (To be clear: I love the thoughtfulness of the novel, and its philosophic bent really spoke volumes to me. My favorite things about the novel aren't in this film. I think it's possible that someone may, one day, make a good film version of that profound statement. I also think it will never be as beloved as this film, possibly not even by me.)
A few parts of this film seem like filler today: Frankenstein's father, the blustery and speech-impeded Wodehouse aristocrat, is a stock type that exists only to inject a touch of humor into the grim darkness. And the wedding celebrations go on a bit too long for my taste, though the painful undercutting of the joy by Maria's father wouldn't be as effective if they were removed entirely.
But the vast majority of the film is glorious: gloomy lighthouse scenes, the captivating electrical gadgets, Frankenstein's mad (and wholly unscientific) speed-rant about the rays of life. The majesty of Colin Clive's feverish performance contrasts so well with Karloff's quiet childlike simplicity as he tries to grasp sunlight.
I love this film, and I remember loving its sequel, Bride of Frankenstein, even more -- back tomorrow after I've revisited that one.
A quick break from my Frankenstein coverage to mention my first seasonal food:
That's right: bottled Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Frappy Thing. I'm not a huge PSL fan (though I love most of the pumpkin spice things), so I didn't know how much I'd like this one going in.
I've tried all the bottled Frappy Thing flavors before (there are a lot: coffee, mocha, s'mores, coconut, mint, caramel, and my favorite, vanilla) and they're all similar: a sweet, pricey treat. It's always a tasty caffeine delivery system, and this one is no exception.
This one, as you might guess, has no actual pumpkin in it, but the spices are prevalent in the mix. I'm aware this might sound like heresy to my coffee people, but I'm not sure I can tell the difference between this Frappy Thing and a nice cold chai latte.
Like the PSL, this one seems to have flown off shelves quickly (I bought mine two days ago and went back for another today, and they were alllllll gone). If you see one and want to spend $3, it's worth your money and stomach space.
Here's the first film adaptation of Frankenstein, from 1910. Film was still in its infancy (a lot of people credit this as the first-ever horror film), and it shows in this production: there are no close-ups or matched shots. There's rudimentary editing (cutting back and forth as Frankenstein watches the creature form), but little else in the way of craft.
However, there is one thing I truly loved about this film. The novel special effect of burning something all the way down, then running the film backwards, so it seems to magically form out of nothing, is still surprising and inspiring. It's a neat piece of movie magic.
The acting, as you might expect, is so big and stagey that there's no room for any nuance or humanity. But that's okay, since the movie throws out almost everything I liked about the novel. It's a simple boy-loves-girl, boy-creates-monster, monster-threatens-girl, love-destroys-monster story in this version. The movie's lack of interest in science leads us to believe that the Creature appears almost organically, from a magic brew. Then Frankenstein himself overcomes his evil temptations and the Creature literally melts away from reality. (It's almost a religious allegory, though not one with the depth or humanity that the original novel has.)
Mary (Godwin) Shelley first published her novel Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus in 1818, though her name wasn't attached until a later edition (upon which, predictably, reviewers criticized the writing as feminine, as if that's such a bad thing).
The first edition was longer, less melodramatic, and much more pro-science than later editions, and is more philosophical than we might expect. The book spends a lot of time telling us how Victor Frankenstein learned science, and some little time on his rigorous experimentation. The middle section of the book is nearly completely taken up by the Creature's viewpoint, as he fluently articulates his own learning process, his hopes and dreams and humanity. The Creature in this book isn't Karloff's simple, childlike hulk, though he may wish he could have those simple pleasures. This Creature is literate, cunning, human, and deeply sad.
Shelley's introduction sketches out her creative process (as you probably know, the novel began life as a friendly challenge to tell a scary story) and her modest goals: to entertain (she decries the boring contemporary novel), and to remind people it's good to have friends ("the exhibition of the amiableness of domestic affection" is how she puts it). And that might sound like a silly premise for a horror novel, even if you're writing the first horror novel ever. But it's true: the elaborate framing device is powered by a man's loneliness, and the Creature's evil is caused, he tells us, since he can never know true companionship.
Victor's scientific breakthroughs come at the expense of his relationships: he stops talking to his family and friends for weeks, months, years. Shelley's friends gave up on their stories as soon as the sun came out and they felt like going outside to hang, but she stuck it out and wrote this novel. And, to make a mountain of a molehill, even I, your devoted blogger, am sitting next to my sleeping wife, tapping this out rather than throwing my arm over her and dreaming together, since I'm driven to write this.
People want to create, to leave lasting impressions. But, as Victor finds out, careless half-assery leads to bad children (the Creature also blames his evil ways on Victor's shocked abandonment of him) and unintended consequences. (At least my half-assed blogging probably won't cause the death of everyone I've ever loved, so I'm one-up on the good doctor there). At the risk of sounding like a ridiculous cliche new-age crystal-waver, the secret is in balance. My schedule's tight, but I can read books and write about them and talk with my friends and sleep next to my wife too.
I listened to a free audio version of the original text, read by Cori Samuel. If you have eight hours, I'd highly recommend that you do the same. Her sensitive, no-frills delivery of the story was the perfect voice. Of course, you can always buy a paper edition instead:
We don't really know specific dates, but this summer marked the 200th anniversary of Mary Godwin (later Mary Shelley) first creating science fiction and horror as we know them, in the form of Frankenstein. The first version of the book was published in subsequent years, and then underwent constant transformation in its text, meaning, and unstoppable adaptation. I'm going to experience a lot of the best Frankenstein-related media ever, and have decided to start the blogging with a quick mention of the show that inspired me to do so.
I came into this show completely fresh, knowing only basic cultural-osmosis stuff about the story and its creation, so I really appreciated the deep dive into both Godwin's influences and creative process, and the science inherent in the story. I always like it when knowledgeable people discuss their field of inquiry as it appears in art. Hearing a biologist discuss exactly how impossible the reanimation process would be was great fun for me.
The panelists also pointed out that the original text of the book was much more pro-science, so that's the version I'll be reading soon, and presumably blogging about soon thereafter.
Finally, my favorite spooky TV goth, Noel Fielding, had the chance to discuss science, magic, and monsters, and tell a few off-color jokes.
If you have any interest in science or horror at all, the radio show is well worth a listen. The show-specific link up there will (as of this writing, at least -- I can't say how long it will be available) let you listen to the edited radio version, a tight 30 minutes. BUT! They also release an extended podcast, with at least 50% more goodness, and that's what I recommend. You can (as of this writing) get the extended podcast version on iTunes here, or listen at this link.
Rob Zombie has a few minutes, during which he denies feasting on the flesh of humans, but most of the screentime in this episode goes to another member of Tad's family, his grampa, Leonard Ghostal. Gramps is voiced by Randy Savage, and it seems his character is an old wrestler, who showed Moltar's dad whatfor a few decades ago.
