SMALL TOWN FESTIVAL MADNESS.

 

ONWARD TO WEYAUWEGA (2014 Edition)

The year has come right 'round yet again to the cool and collected days of November, time of ill themed holiday gluttony and, as always, a truly fitting time frame for a little local film festival madness.

Movie geeks take note, just about 30 minutes northwest of this Fox Valley thing, (most of) you readers call home, lies the quiet, unassuming city of Weyauwega. Here (in the Main Street-placed Gerold Opera House) can be found the annual Weyauwega International Film Festival. In years previous, the W.I.F.F. has played gracious host to such rich cinematic jewels as John Frankenheimer’s seminal 60s haunter Seconds, the loopy art-house sensation from France Holy Rollers, the clever and highly clandestine Disney theme-park phantasmagoria Escape from Tomorrow and such Wisconsin-generated gems as West of Thunder and Dead Weight.
Audiences were treated to a wide selection of film types; documentaries, dramas, comedies, action and even some low-brow, grindhouse-worthy horror (Don’t Go To the Reunion or Billy Club anyone?) and the whole thing looks primed to grow ever bigger with each coming year.

 

 

This given year, the 4th such episode of the fest will unfold (beginning on Wednesday, November 12th and wrapping up on Saturday the 15th) in high style. It all kicks of with some ambitious non-fiction cinema in 'Wait', about a creative team (one filmmaker, one musician) wandering across and throughout the varying cultures and communities of South America guided by the mutual pull of something out of their collective past and the epic character study 'Old Man' by fest veteran and award winner Dan Schneidkraut. This puppy charts the highs and lows that befall a father/son tandem set against the impending fate of a long standing Minnesota based record store. Director Schneidkraut is expected to be in attendance to discuss the merits of his 170 minute (!) opus. 'Old Man' rolls at 4:30pm.

 

To slot out the remainder of the fest itinerary W.I.F.F. masterminds Ian Teal and Kathy Fehl have pieced together another sturdy collection of intriguing prospects for any devout cinephile to blissfully devour. For handy example, one can take in promising options like '100: Head/Heart/Feet' which covers the uber obsessive nature of something termed 'ultra-running', wherein a set of athletes compete in an intense, 100 mile long marathon...without reprieve for as much as 30 hours! 'My Name is Jonah' is a portrait of a self designed 'mythic cult hero' who turns out, in real time, to be a rather less than average Joe (or Jonah). 'Wisconsin Mining Standoff', originally produced for Al Jazeera's 'Faultlines' series, could prove to generate a high level of in state related controversy and healthy debate (and you can expect our golden boy-Slick Scotty Walker to figure into it all). 'Oracles of Pennsylvania Avenue', where we get an up front opportunity to witness, via the decades long persistence of three relentless activists, the dedicated origins of what is now so commonly branded (and sometimes smugly dismissed as) the 'Occupy Movement'. Proof positive that many a solid non-fiction film is set to unspool for your educational benefit.     

                                                                                           

 

Also a part of the mix is the Russian bred festival and critical darling 'The Fool' (W.I.F.F. takes great pride in pulling entries in  from all over the globe into their total program) an earnest and, at times, tragic dramatic piece of social commentary focusing on a poor, good natured maintenance man faced with the moral dilemma of how to save the population of a woefully neglected apartment complex. That film is set to bow on Saturday at 5:30pm. Further still, each of the W.I.F.F. installments also likes to indulge in a bit of film nerd nostalgia on a Thursday afternoon. This year's entry is 'The Men' from 1950, directed by Fred Zinnemann ('High Noon', 'From Here to Eternity') and featuring the debut big screen performance by some guy named Marlon Brando as a crippled war vet who must struggle to regain control of what's left of his, now civilian, life. Admission to this throwback feature is free and is again accompanied by the presence of area film scholar Dr. Jack Rhodes. It all starts at 1pm.

 

There will also be a very rich smattering of short film packages right alongside all the heavyweight features. On Friday, starting at 9pm, the fest will showcase a fat block of short films by Wisconsin filmmakers exclusively. Plus, at other spots during the fest Dan (Ed Gein-the Musical) Davis will appear as the star of the emotion based 'Beyond Goldenhill" (Sat. about 12:30pm) and Oshkosh superstar John Pata will make a return to Weyauwega for yet another screening of his searing Pig Destroyer influenced punch to the gut 'Pity' (Thursday in the area of 6:30pm). Many (if not all) of the folks involved in these locally born projects should be on hand to engage in some sweet movie talk afterwards.

 

The main event (as it were) and festival closer this time is a seemingly light hearted little something entitled 'Bucky and the Squirrels', an odd duck retro-satire of sorts about a 1960s one hit wonder pop group (out of our own Appleton, of all spots) who went missing shortly after breaking big. Ages pass into the present day and the lads are unearthed from the frozen confines of their Swiss Alps imprisonment and brought to consciousness. This strange concoction was, for the most part, lensed on location in and around the Appleton area by a well seasoned pro named Allan Katz. Katz is a writer-producer-director-actor who has finessed his trade in (mostly) old school sitcom television. He has taken part in many a greatly adored classic like 'M.A.S.H.', 'Sanford & Son' and 'Roseanne' only to switch gears a bit to script and star in the instantly obscure, now cult chic film 'Big Man on Campus'. In recent years Katz has taken to sharing his accumulated knowledge and experience as a teacher of all things in relation to putting on a show at various universities, one of them being Appleton's own high end Lawrence U.

 

See, Mr. Katz has connections to Lawrence by way of several key alumni he forged lasting relationships with years back. At the beginning of his career, Katz toiled at an advertising agency where he first crossed paths with a certain chap, Tom Hurvis. Hurvis and his wife, as fate would have it, are both successful end products of the Lawrence University educational system and years on down the line they would call on Katz for a favor, they asked him to bring some industry know-how to their beloved alma matter. Paired with another alum, Catherine Tatge, who was working to jump start a viable film program on the campus, Katz was asked to oversee a short film writing and production course that worked to immerse students in the specifics of film production. From there things progressed toward the proposal of crafting a full fledged feature that would involve students and allow them to gain hands on experiences on a real, thriving film set. The production would also serve to work as much local Appleton flavor into the blend as possible as a way of paying tribute to the positive spirit Katz says he found quite commonplace around the school and throughout the surrounding area.

 

This heavy incorporation of Fox Valley bodies and real estate makes this 'Bucky and the Squirrels' thing the must see Wisconsin epic of, probably, the whole festival. The Saturday evening screening (8pm) of 'Bucky and the Squirrels' is actually the official world premiere for the film (a move by Katz to pay tribute to the productive Wisconsin backbone the film is founded on) and the man himself told me with his own voice, by way of a quick phone chat, that he will be on the scene to share in the fun and bond with folks afterwards.  

To follow up all this movie watching and related banter there will be the concluding festival awards ceremony and socially rewarding after party with all the beer drinking, dancing and whatever else people do after a full slate of serious movie digestion has been put to rest.

Any and every inquiry related to the Weyauwega International Film Festival can be directed to this lovely web savvy address; wegaarts.org. Ticket pricing, finalized schedule layout, directions and the like will be on hand for those who (I hope) will develop the curiosity needed to make the trek to this year's edition of the little festival that could.

May the urge reach you, one and all, to take in some quality cinema out there in wonderful Weyauwega.

Happy festing.  killpeoplenamedrichard@yahoo.com  

A FEW (STRANGE) WORDS WITH ODERUS.

Way back when, during the mammoth nerd expo that is San Diego Comic-Con (circa 2009).   


At one lofty point during the course of my Comic-Con immersion I found my self locked in one particularly cramped and unsanitary men's restroom with none other than the morally ignorant, gloriously inhuman Oderus Urungus, front man to the world renowned 'Scumdogs of the Universe', GWAR. I put myself in this potentially suspect situation (think prison sex with less hygiene) in order to obtain some nuggets of wisdom from perhaps the greatest rock persona since...uh, that guy with the chainsaw from Jackyl.

We begin with a warm up, just to get the juices flowing.
I ask the esteemed Mr. Urungus to share his thoughts and musings on the  impending 25th anniversary of his band, the accompanying tour and (most  importantly) the arrival of the latest and potentially greatest GWAR record to  date, 'Lust in Space'.
'Basically what we got going this year is GWAR's 25th year on the planet since we've been dethawed via the copious overuse of hairspray. 25 years is not a heck of a lot to an eternal god, it's more like half of an eye blink, yet in human terms it's a long time. So we have decided to declare the onset of a two year celebration of all things GWAR. Our new album, 'Lust in Space' drops on August 18th. We will have a two year celebration because, quite simply, one year is too short. Two years is twice as long! We might even take it up to 3 or 4 years if it's going well.'

'GWAR will go down in history as the band that took 25 years to break. It's a lot like jacking off for 25 years and finally getting your nut, which is what I will be doing at every show.'

Every  one?

'At every single show I will share my filthy load upon your faces and together, all you freaks out there who have supported GWAR for all these  years will be paid back in full. GWAR is not an easy band to support, you've got to take the slings and arrows of ignorant assholes that don't understand our majesty. It's a whole new level of commitment. What other band asks you to sever your mother's head, core out her genitals with a daisy cutter and then have sex with the family dog? Not many, but GWAR fans are all over it.'

About this new record, where does it fit in reference to your earlier works?
'I would say that it is a new level of GWAR's super awesome-nasity (sic). If you took all the GWAR albums and melted them down into mush, it probably fits somewhere in the middle. It's got the thrash of 'Hell-o', the epic metal of 'America Must Be Destroyed', the Dungeons and Dragons on LSD of 'Violence Has Arrived' and it's got the  title of 'Lust in Space'. It is the greatest GWAR album since the last time  we did an album.'

'GWAR at its' worst destroys Slipknot at its' best. Even when Cory what's his face is crapping into a solid gold toilet right onto his fans' faces. We've got a relationship with our fans that is beyond insidious, it's not rape, yet it has something to do with dentistry. I'm not sure what that means but I know that Monty Python would understand.'

Let's talk about your re-signing with Metal Blade Records and also one particular track on 'Lust in Space' that appears to have heavy radio airplay written all over it, 'Make a Child Cry', what inspired you to write this little gem?

'On this planet, there is this whole idea that children are to be 'cared for'. They are to be fed, they are to be given presents and so forth. In outer space, children are used as power units for cybernetic war suits or sex aids and the like. The children of your planet are your  future and if we can destroy them all you will have none, and that is kind of the idea behind  that.'

As for Metal Blade........?

'We're back with Metal Blade, we were on some other label for awhile that didn't make any sense what so ever, they went broke or something. So we're finally back with the ultimate metal label in the world, it was just the perfect time, with the 25th anniversary thing and all. The cosmos, the planets, they're all in line to make this the most successful year in GWAR's history. Metal Blade, they are very much like us, they've been out forever and gone through highs and lows, yet they've hung in there. Brian Slagel (the label's founder) is fat and bald and I love the man. Bringing GWAR back together with Metal Blade is like Laural and Hardy, Charlie and Chaplin, it's like 'you got your anal sex into my carburetor!' It's a wonderful thing.'

Huh?

'They're putting out the new record, it's really the  story of GWAR's final escape from earth. We travel through space, we run out of crack, we have to go back to  earth, that's pretty much the story.'

How about this epic new tour? Any surprise guests?

'Well, we don't wanna give anything away. We got Sleazy P. Martini with us this year. Now that he's solidified his control of the crack industry and the world porno industry, he's back into erecting solid gold skyscrapers and managing the band. We got a lot of off-planet people, back from the old days before GWAR came to this world. Like our old General, General Zod.'

Will you make another stop at the Rave, in gorgeous downtown Milwaukee?

'We'll be back in Milwaukee or Chicago, it all depends on who gives us more money.' (The boys will be sharing the stage at the Rave with Lamb of God and Job For a Cowboy November 6th)

In conclusion, can you just throw a few words out there about what GWAR means to you at this  point?

'All I can say is this, GWAR is the greatest band in rock n' roll history. Nobody cares so much about their  fans that they would mouth Jello molds into a testicle.'

And with that last pearl of infinite wisdom, Sir Oderus wraps me in a sweaty, drunken embrace and we part ways. I stumble in my typical Menasha way out into a fitfully rank crowd to bare witness to the two-fold threat of GWAR and Canadian battle metal progenitors, 3 Inches of Blood, and I have lots of woefully under lit pictures to prove it.

Perfect.

GWAR BQ-2014. (R.I.P. ODERUS)

A PHOTOGRAPHIC REFLECTION ON THE EPIC EVENT THAT WAS, THIS PAST AUGUST IN LOVELY HADAD'S LAKE, RICHMOND VA.

 Meat, Beer, Punks, Mutants, O.G.'s and Bloody Bohabs all 'round.

Paying flaming last respect to the old while ushering in the new. 8-15+16-2014.

GWAR!  GWAR!  GWAR!  GWAR!

 

THE FEARSOME AND THE FEARLESS.

(As published in the October 2014 issue of Wisconsin's own The Scene)

Following an unexpected yet invigorating sabbatical this past summer, your oh-so-humble favorite local movie rambler hath returned to saturate you once more with knowledge and helpful suggestions concerning most things cinematic that might never even make it to a theater near you. Being as it is growing close to 'All Hallows Eve' and things like neighborhood zombie walks are soon to become all the rage, it seems like a swell idea to take this month's article in a might darker, more dementia riddled direction. Shall we?


I. The Fine Art of Murder.

So, how's this strike you for a truly daunting kind of subject matter with which to found a non-fiction film on and around; the calculated reenacting of a series of ruthless, government sanctioned executions utilizing the full (and fully enthusiastic) participation of several of the pivotal perpetrators themselves? Well, 'The Act of Killing' just so happens to be the kind of film to result from such a bold and (very) risky undertaking. This picture, the impressive end product of director Joshua Oppenheimer's (assisted by Christine Cynn and some entity listed as 'Anonymous') reported 8 year or so immersion into the given material and corresponding geographic locales, takes on a smattering of Indonesian paramilitary folks (active and retired) and sets them to the deeply unsettling (one would assume) task of play acting in present time their cruel yet effective actions from a time well in the past. You see, back in the middle of the 1960s, said soldiers set out to relentlessly rid their beloved stomping grounds of any and all traces of communist misbehavior (suspected as well as proven) by virtue of unapologetic extermination of any recognized offenders.

Due to the protracted development period his project demanded, Oppenheimer got to know many of his players to a deep extent (most of note, the front and center duo of Anwar Congo and Herman Kato). In so doing, he was exposed to, among many other traits, a startling adoration of movies and their potential power over a collected audience (many of these cats used to scalp admission tickets at area bijous as youths). In light of this significant revelation of character, the filmmaker ushered in the further requirement that his subjects' reenactings be staged with a layer of direct big screen influence. Thus, Anwar and co. get to planning and fleshing out a surreal succession of mini-movie styled skits, all centered around the core factor of factual killings that were once as far removed from a fond movie going memory as legitimately conceivable.

The fair bulk of the picture delves well into these truly elaborate and often colorfully startling microcosms of damaged personal performance 'art' giving the viewer a wholly contradictory palette of images and ideas with which to digest and analyze to the best of their ability, which is no simple assignment. One absorbs both the creative, dare I say, glee with which these 'skits' are born and also the rather horrific method that pervades the carrying out of the separate acts of detrimental violence that stick close to the facts as kept alive in the now aging assassin's minds. The scope of these differing parts is sometimes notable, the torching and ransacking of a village, for quick example, employs multiple wailing extras and pyrotechnics while a tense rooftop strangulation only requires some handy wire and a solo assistant to get the (ugly) job done correct.

The progression and fervor between the crafting and full realization of the mocked up killings also works to stress the growing impact on the performers in a variety of fashions as they are coming to terms anew with their past transgressions as they are pulled into the present and placed under the microscope of the camera eye.

'The Act of Killing exists as an almost purely nominal viewing experience, one that swiftly defies easy comparison amongst other documentaries covering similar dark thematic territory. From its opening imagery, graceful dancers emerging from the mouth of a gigantic structure designed like a fish and easily moving across a long plank to the nodding approval of fat man Herman Kato adorned in vivid blue drag queen attire (cross dressing proves to be a reoccurring fashion choice for this dude), the film hypnotizes and transports us into this otherwise impenetrable kingdom of fever dreamish ultra madness. 

Tales of war crimes are often of the 'Human generated horror leads to apprehension and repremendation (i.e. Proper Trial) followed by the subsequent healing process for the surviving victims or their descendants. Not so much this time out (though Oppenheimer has since put together an opposing viewpoint sequel of sorts, The Look of Silence, which gives one family a chance to address the murder of their sibling during the above mentioned chaos), here the villains have grown to become respected national heroes. Victorious saviors over the communist plague, the enjoy unparalleled freedom and often brag up even the lowliest aspects of their abhorrent behaviours (beware the one arrogant thug who waxes fondness over the 'heavenly' benefits of sexually degrading random young females, yuck!). 'The Act of Killing' sets out to try to crack the pokerfaced surface of this posse's infamous yet never disowned history and with the aid of this highly unique approach to revisiting some of the events in question, hopefully expresses to the world and better still, the men themselves, the extent of their wrong doing. Does this tactic at all work? You'll have to witness the film your own self to obtain the answer.

'The Act of Killing' is currently available in both DVD and BLU RAY formats from a place called Drafthouse Films and it features two separate cuts of the picture, the standard 122 minute theatrical issue and a more involved 166 minute Director's variation. There is, of course, bonus features to be had like featurettes, deleted scenes and audion commentary with the director and documentary hall of famer Werner ('Grizzly Man, 'Into the Abyss') Herzog who (along with esteemed filmmaking peer Errol Morris) became one of the chief cheerleaders of this film and helped to push it into the festival circuit and such. The whole mind boggling adventure can be found here, drafthousefilms.com/film/the-act-of-killing. Check into it.

II. Bonus Stuff.

'Willow Creek' (darkskyfilms.com)

This here sho' ain't the Bobcat Goldthwait you ever saw screech out a nerve wracking stand up routine nor call the behind the scenes shots on such black comedic epics as 'Shakes the Clown', 'World's Greatest Dad' (which features one of poor Robin Williams' finest latter day performances) and 'God Bless America'. Instead we are gifted still another Found Footage scenario involving naive young peeps venturing into an all-together unforgiving, unknown environment. This time it's all centered around the Big Foot mythos and one head strong believer (Bryce Johnson) and his reckless yearning to gather actual video evidence of the beast and prove it all factual for once and for final. This leads our hero and his less than convinced gal pal (Alexie Gilmore) to the darkest camping spot imaginable and....well, no spoilers here. Just accept the fact that Ol' Bobby has aimed for something quite separate from the rest of his resume and I suppose you're left with a very adequate riff on the basic outline of 'The Blair Witch Project', albeit with far more stable camera work and scares that emanate from real beasts in the darkness and not mean, ill tempered spirits. Not a complete waste of 80 minutes, but nothing poised to break ground either. Includes the expected commentary by folks involved, one deleted scene and a short on set piece.

'Death Spa' (mpihomevideo.com)
Prime sliced 80s schlock 'til you drop cheese, resurrected in fitting home video fashion. An All-American, high end fitness joint is all the aerobic rage until strange fatalities start to pile up. Seems the deceased spouse of this happenin' club's owner is out to haunt the spot into bankruptcy by picking off much of its' sexy, style conscious (when not fully naked) clientele. Real simplistic premise is established as a handy way to enact one goofy yet fairly inventive kill shot after another while the cardboard cast milk out much of the average run time searching for a way to wrap it all up cheaply and get out alive. Along with like minded flotsam like 'Killer Workout' (you know you recall that one as well) this little creeper stands as the perfect time capsule of an era when it was chic to be fit and the Jane Fonda workout regimen ruled the day.

Loaded with cut rate gore, bare and sweaty skin and thespians who understand how to react accordingly (including 'Dawn of the Dead' alum Ken Foree), this new DVD/BLU RAY combo release displays the film in what is likely the finest quality it will ever see. The bonus stuff is predictable but fun (commentary, retrospective doc short) and the film itself is not without its' considerable camp merits. Prefect fodder for the horror goon who still longs for the small scale, mom & pop local video rental store way of movie watching.

Thanks for humoring me, you can write me (if the urge somehow strikes you) at killpeoplenamedrichard@yahoo.com
 

Hidden Horrors.

IN (NOT SO) PLAIN SIGHT.

(Article originally published in the June 2014 issue of The Scene)

Being a fellow who likes to pass himself off as a purveyor of the critical breaking down of most things cinematic, I figured it was about time to swing some attention over to a fine assembly of stellar written critiques care of a wide variety of kindred souls. Yes, we're talking text here, a book named 'Hidden Horror' (Kitley's Krypt) is a right ambitious little tome that tasks itself with offering any willing reader some well formed and engaging insight into not one but one hundred and one so-called 'overlooked' (or 'undervalued', if you will) films crafted and broadcast under the rich horror genre umbrella. It may be the perfect answer to that eternal query many have put forth when seeking appropriate material for that next movie night, 'I wonder if there's anything good to rent that I haven't already seen?'

The guiding hand behind this whole concept, from genesis to final published product, is an unabashed horror nerd cum magazine/blog writer/thespian/ a whole bunch of other related stuff working out of that windy Chicago place calling himself Aaron Christensen (aka-Dr. AC). Sir. Christensen (who contributes his own piece examining the merits of Larry Fessenden's vampire opus 'Habit') has set about to a culling together of 101 impassioned and heavily opinionated individuals from all over this damn planet (the states, the U.K., Scandinavia etc.) and challenged them each to assemble a short list of beloved fright films that they felt would be truly deserving of a second (or in some cases first) chance to shine in front of a much greater viewing population then what they've thus far received. After whittling it all down to a singular selection, each of these eager literati were directed to argue in favor of their respective movies as best they could, the final resulting
 passages may differ in appeal to a great degree when matched up with many a reader's own specific taste patterns but so be it. Ample debate and discussion is my guesstimate as to the healthy outcome of all this along with the expanding of many a reader's overall film viewing education.


The contents of 'Hidden Horror' spans the gamut of the history of the genre entire, the writings contained within touch base on everything from the growing pains of the silent era (Dreyer's 'Vampyr', 'The Hands of Orlac', 'The Penalty') to the fruitful decades following the spoken word's invasion of the film form ('Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man', 'Kill, Baby...Kill', 'Phantom of the Paradise', 'Humanoids From the Deep' and on and on...) and onward to the waning years of the 20th Century as well as the dawn of its successor.

Each essay attacks its selected subject matter from a wide birth of angles. Many choose to implant the origin story of their first encounter with the pleasures of the horror film universe, often by virtue of their film of focus. Witness, for quick example, both Mark Allen Gunnells' and Dave Fuentes' side by side write ups on the Canadian bred, 1983 slasher 'Curtains' and the 1981 Television movie 'Dark Night of the Scarecrow' respectively. Both scribes emphasize the long in the past first contact made as impressionable youths with said films and the lasting impact they made upon them as they pursued further frights while clinging to a love of the pictures that helped to mold their affection for macabre cinema.

Elsewhere, Indiana native and online contributor (blogs and online sites figure into the lives of a majority of Hidden Horror's participants) J. Nelson Smith relates how some sample bits found on a Skinny Puppy record lead him to the 1973 British chiller 'The Legend of Hell House'. J.T. McRoberts, a micro-budget filmmaker out of North Carolina tells of a convention vendor turning him on to the uber oddball Japanese freak fest 'Kairo' (or 'Pulse' as it and its' obligatory remake are known here) and also there is the case of Lee Marohn who, after years of careful avoidance, and the advent of a handy 31 Days of Horror marathon commitment, at last uncovered the stand alone charms of the largely rejected 'Halloween III : Season of the Witch'.

 A gent named Patrick Mathewes turned his piqued interest in the great, quirky filmmaker Larry Cohen (care a career retrospective article he stumbled across) into an impetus to track down 'Q-The Winged Serpent', from 1982, and bask in its' wonderful, pre-CGI cheese bag monster effects as well as one grand, over the top performance by lead actor Michael Moriarty. There is also a sobering, honest digestion of the grandma of all rape/revenge epics 'I Spit on your Grave' (the 1978 original, mind you) by a lady, B.J. Colangelo, who opens up to the fact the she is a real time victim of sexual violence. This gives her startlingly positive take on this long loathed shocker extra gravity as she makes a case for its' value as a statement against violence toward women instead of the misogynistic masturbation fantasy most viewers and critics have made it out to be.

Now, as with any compendium of notable size, there are going to be bits that anyone could take issue with every bit as likely as to jump up and down and shout 'I love that movie!' Myself, I spotted but a few choices I never would have made like 'The Hills Have Eyes' or 'Psycho II' (another choice, 'Tremors' with its multiple spin offs and Kevin Bacon presence, simply baffled me altogether) but I found a great number more that I heartily agree with (some passing examples-'Brain Damage', 'The Signal', 'Santa Sangre', 'May' and the mighty, mystical 'Dust Devil' which I rambled about in this publication many moons ago). There proved to be a fair smattering of flicks I have yet to run my eyes across too, ('Eden Lake', 'In A Glass Cage', 'Alucarda') some further that I'd never even heard of (where do I even find something called 'The Other Side?').

Such a vast array of geek savvy options could only be served up by an equal batch of authors. As mentioned earlier, many an online, blog-chic wordsmith is present and accounted for in addition to print media pros (the big three genre rags, Fangoria, Rue Morgue and HorrorHound are well represented here, no worries) and even a few local lads. Oshkosh native and 'Dead Weight' main man John Pata takes a playful stab at Spanish schlockmeister Juan Piquer-Simon's 1982 gorefest 'Pieces' and our very own Gavin Schmitt gives up some much needed love to Herschell Gordon Lewis with his lavish appraisal of his 1972 effort 'The Gore Gore Girls'.

In total, Hidden Horror delivers on its promise to fitfully celebrate '101 underrated and overlooked fright flicks'. It even boasts a decent little intro by director William Lustig (whose notorious 1980 sociopath study 'Maniac' gets its due in the book too) to help ease the reader into the fray. All in all, Hidden Horror might just prove to be the new bible you hold by your side as you stalk your local video joint or online queue.

Make the commitment to Hidden Horror, starting here-facebook.com/hiddenhorrorthebook

Oh, if anybody out there happens to have a copy of the uncut DVD version of Andrzej  Zulawski's 'Possession' I can borrow, hit me up accordingly at killpeoplenamedrichard@yahoo.com

Thanks a bunch.

CONSUMED WITH DISTURBING BEHAVIOR

(or, Some Fits of art that belong to Harmony Korine.)





This is a throwback piece originally published in the Jan. 2010 issue of the Central Wisconsin newspaper The Scene.

Sometime this year I pray to hold the privilege of catching a potentially life corrupting piece of no-rent cinema by the name of 'Trash Humpers' (view what passes just barely for a trailer here, www.harmony-korine.com). The 'plot details', such as they are, involve the day to day misbehaviors of a small mob of apparently geriatric assholes (embodied by a cast that includes Korine himself in grubby old timer masks and wigs) as they seek to raise the bar on all out anti-social deviance. The film sports a deliberately dodgy aesthetic, like some kind of oft viewed VHS bootleg derived from a clandestine tape trading circle. This intriguing mess was wrestled together in a reported few weeks time for change by an erstwhile enemy of the mainstream named Harmony Korine.

Korine is a singular artistic voice out of Nashville, Tennessee that first left scars on the public conscious as the father of the script that became Larry Clark's unwavering debut 'Kids', a movie that addressed many of the darker truths of juvenile delinquency. That picture's critical and art crowd notoriety earned Korine the freedom to adhere to an unfiltered exploration of some of his own thematic whims and obsessions via a series of films, publications and exhibitions that would nurture a fervent cult status.

Among the films, the first (and, by far, finest) would be a one of a kind number, built to polarize called 'Gummo'. The first time I laid eyes on this glorious little eyesore, I was boozing it up proper at a house party that resisted in the hateful majority when I popped the tape in (circa 1998) convinced we would all be changed for the better. I found myself imprisoned in its' gut level fairytale ramblings and way left field visionary tendencies to the point where I became completely fixated, I couldn't tare my sockets away from the screen.

Korine's pseudo apocalyptic chronicle of a bleak living atmosphere in small town Ohio (post tornado) is like a trip through the most criminally endearing and car crash compelling hell the mind can fabricate. One lasting image follows another for one and a half hours and then it's gone, leaving one with the sizable task of processing just what has transpired. The very loose sketch of a storyline involves two bottom feeder protagonists (Nick Sutton, Jacob Reynolds) and their interfacing with peers and perpetrators in about the streets of what can best be discerned as an 'impoverished' neighborhood. To a manic soundtrack of droning narration, death metal and sludgy ambiance one can bare helpless witness to the loopy sights of redneck royalty drinking, fighting, sporting mullets, drowning cats, being gross, open heart confessing to a homosexually inclined midget and defying political correctness at every open opportunity.

Two specific moments that encapsulate the bent worth of the picture for me are; 1-a junkyard showdown of sorts between two grubby pre-pube cowpokes and a poor fella sporting large fake rabbit ears that they proceed to attack, rob and berate at beautiful length. 2-a portly retarded chick dressed in a Krokus t-shirt holding a plastic baby doll and reciting her 'A,B,C's'. That's not to mention the  shirtless wrestling match involving a fold out table or the guy who pimps his obese, half-wit sister or the kid eating spaghetti while bathing in filthy water or.....get the picture yet?

As can be easily gleaned from the above rambling, this is a particular work for a particular mind set. If you ever find that you are growing impatient with the big budget, formulaic narrative standards long established as commercially viable, if you have trouble forcing yourself into caring for Sandra Bullock and her forced good Samaritan routine with some poor homeless football prodigy or John Cusack outliving the end of the world, then I think Mr. Korine has the antidote for your wayward soul.

With 'Trash Humpers' still lingering on my 'as yet to see' wish list, I will have to lend passing nods to the rest of Harmony Korine's directorial efforts.

'Julien Donkey-Boy' came close on the heels of the almighty 'Gummo' and suffered immediate letdown syndrome brought on by over zealous expectations on my part. It just goes to prove, one can only be taken aback the way Korine's crazed debut did me once, all coming after begins to feel redundant. So with 'Julien' there was an initial impression of 'seen this sorta thing before', as the film indulged in many similar themes and ideas though with a nod more to the linear in terms of the narrative pattern.

Repeat visits to this sophomore effort after I managed to vacate any pretentious expectations allowed me to extract the jewels of eccentricity that help 'Julien Donkey-Boy' triumph on its own malformed terms. This saga of the manic titular individual (played by 'Trainspotting' alum, Ewen Bremner) his quasi-militant pops (the great German director Werner Herzog, who dives in full force) and the sister (Chloë  Sevigny) with whom he is expecting an offspring actually rests upon a basic domestic drama outline, adhering to more linear terms in juxtaposition with 'Gummo'. But, if you think Harmony Korine is about to safely coast through this thing on formula alone, let me tell ya folks, not going to happen.

Korine and his cameraman, Anthony Dod Mantle, have conspired to rep the obvious mental shortcomings of dear Julien care a multi layering of the initial footage. They've taken it from digital and dumped it onto 16mm film stock and blown the result up to 35 mm to really grain drench the imagery into a remarkably erratic level. Never, to me, has such manic delirium held this type of dreamy appeal. The employment of heavily distorted visuals and even the occasional sharp switch to still photography and random blurring effects at first may come off as pure stunts of artsy self gratification, but, upon further digestion, read more as the spill over of the warped energy emanating from the eccentricities contained herein.

Korine even manages a fair collection of stand alone moments (though markedly less so then in 'Gummo'). Prime among there are the sight of a group of blind people getting down at a bowling ally and Julien's heavily put-upon brother (Evan Neumann) wrestling viciously with a plastic garbage receptacle (this director sure digs his humans battling inanimate objects). Oh, I cannot disregard the diminutive Black Albino ('straight from Alabama, way down south and you know that I'm a...') busting loose on the freestyle.

The film was created under the guidelines of the Dogma 95 manifesto (which can be retrieved here-http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dogme_95#Goals_and_rules) set forth by Danish mavens Lars von Trier and Thomas Vinterberg, though Korine managed to take liberties when it suited him. The finished film ended up in the loving arms of cult cinema nerds after some scattered play-dates (mostly fests) and Korine stepped away from features for several years to focus on various other outlets (shorts, music videos, a script for another Larry Clark film-'Ken Park', photo exhibitions and a dabbling in substance abuse and depression) before landing his biggest scale project in 'Mister Lonely'.

The problem with this tale of love, angst and endless daydreaming shared by a commune of celebrity impersonators is that its higher end production values and semi-name actors work at some opposition to the Harmony Korine methodology in favor of the stranger things in this here human race. There is a measured stifling quality on hand as we follow a faux Michael Jackson (Diego Luna) and Marilyn Monroe (Samantha Morton) and various others as they struggle to mount an ambitious performance piece for the locals in a remote section of Scotland (!!). Yes, absurd, but played far too straight too much of the time to truly work. Only an altogether out of place side plot involving Werner Herzog (again, a scene stealer) as a priest flying relief missions in Central America with a handful of fearless, sky diving nuns provides any true link with the inventive retardation of either of the director's previous films.

Korine himself has suggested some dissatisfaction with both the greater demands of a more expensive (for him-$8-9million) project and the finished result. Thus we come full circle to the film he has created partly as an antidote to said misgivings and partly as an extension of the freak voice that made his freshman and sophomore pictures so worthy. 'Trash Humpers' could very well be the apex of Harmony Korine's love affair with the romantic abnormalities of human behavior and the ever crooked paths they nurture into the kind of storytelling he finds priority level film making material.

I hope I will not be the only fool waiting in anticipation for a shot to spend some screen time on some random Nashville street with a few filthy degenerates giving blatant irrationality a good/bad name.

One more thing, it should be noted in passing that both 'Gummo' and 'Julien Donkey-Boy' are available on the cheap ($5.79 each) at the friendly Internet warehouse Amazon.com.


Anything crude and/or impolite that anyone would wish to add can be submitted here-killpeoplenamedrichard@yahoo.com

ROWDY LIL' DEVILS

(Print version published in the May 2014 issue of The Scene Newspaper, scenenewspaper.com)

It has come to my immediate attention that some of the more necessary recent examples of quality genre cinema appear to center the weight of their chosen plotlines around some curiously small packages. The most obvious of the commercial, mainstream representations of this can be found in the work of director James Wan, most specifically 'Insidious', but I was thinking more in terms of reduced popularity yet equal (or greater) value and I have two wholly fitting flicks that fit this criteria; 'Here Comes the Devil' and 'Knights of Badassdom'. It is with these two very differing slices of economic yet effective little big threat storytelling that this month's chapter in slightly off the radar motion picture analysis and incessant rambling is prepared to devote itself.

Here Comes the Devil.

When the comfort zone of a typical familial structure becomes uprooted, say by virtue of the mostly commonplace interferences of emotional, financial and/or fidelity issues, the chief members are left with the taxing yet inevitably surmountable task of picking up the metaphoric pieces of their given lives and continuing to soldier on. In the moody and unapologetically graphic case study of the young Mexican family unit in 'Here Comes the Devil', however, we find the main parental pairing abruptly forced to contend with the sharp and dedicated intervention of a cruelly possessive element that seeks to drain away the innocence of their two prepubescents in favor of a more malicious alternative.

The set up is simple, following a startling prologue of sorts involving a juicy lesbian tryst interrupted by a maniacal house invasion and subsequent bloodletting, the base action shifts over to a sunny Baja California vacation site being occupied by the film's protagonist foursome. While Sol (Laura Caro) and Felix (Francisco Barreiro) sun themselves with nary a care to mention, their kids, Adolfo (Alan Martinez) and Sara (Michele Garcia) are nearby dealing with the alien prospect of Sara's inaugural encounter with that strange feminine occurrence known as menstruation. A quick trip to a local convenience store to deal with the inconvenient 'girl' problem and we're back in business with the kids looking to explore some area caves and the adults just looking to further pursue their relaxation agenda, only on a more romantic level (naughty, naughty).  A couple of beats later finds them snoozing in their car, the sun has set and their children have not reported back.

Thus begins the thrust of the whole 'parent's worst nightmare' come to life (and then some) scenario that really informs this delectably demented piece of modern horror. With the local law alongside, the couple frets and scours the surroundings to no avail, only to have their babies appropriated off some remote road the very next day and delivered to their door. All is set to right, or so we are briefly mislead to believe.  The kids almost instantly begin to exhibit a notably detached, vacant quality and suspicions arise that they may have been more than just lost in the cavernous hills. At first, after some snooping in and around the area of the disappearance, a local social reject may prove to be a prime suspect and solution to the mounting mystery of what hath molded the children in such a dark and uninviting fashion. In fact, the spectre of some variant of child abduction/unspeakable contact eats at the parents to such a degree that they carry out their rabid phobia to ultraviolent ends (no direct spoilers, just know the effects crew more than earned their keep). This all leads the parents on a downward spiral of their own en route to the true source of the madness, the dread that awaits with a proper solution they could probably due without ever encountering.

'Here Comes the Devil' marks the 10th feature offering of a deft Spanish fella named Adrian Garcia Bogliano (with another feature, 'Late Phases' waiting in the wings). He infuses his weird and wonderfully creepy opus with healthy measures of the requisite horror staples of sex, gore, lingering unease and lurid personas taking the task of boundary pushing and amping the shock  and awe factor to acceptably elevated degrees. He has also made it clear in previous media coverage his love and adoration of the exploitation cinema of the 1970s and 80s and that is in blatant display care the warm, somewhat sleazy imagery and fearless employment of sharp zooming in on key moments (Bogliano has also stated his specific use of lenses based on those used in comparative old school favorites). This all combines to make for one of the more satisfying and fully unnerving horror entries in recent memory. Produced for a relative pittance by even so-called low budget standards, 'Here Comes the Devil' shines with a polished look and fitfully creepy vibe that is certain to endear it to a wealth of genre devotees.

The rich looking Blu Ray from a company called Magnet Releasing comes complete with the usual audio commentary input form the Bogliano man himself plus several bits of behind the scenes info to help flesh out the origin of this warped lil' devil. Recommended to all who still hold hope for the future of all things horrific.

For more info, check-magnetreleasing.com/herecomesthedevil

Knights of Badassdom.

Back in the summer of 2011 I was attending the enormous nerd-chic mecca known the world over as San Diego Comic Con when I found myself surrounded by a grand party of fools dolled up as some sort of medieval war party (or cast offs from a Manowar video shoot, take thy pick) and fully reveling in slapping the piss out of one another with big, realistic looking weaponry right outside of the convention's most beloved of locales, the infamous Hall H. Turns out, this was all a part of the publicity juggernaut for a charming little love letter to something dubbed 'Larping' (where participants enact a roleplaying scenario on a three dimensional scale) named 'Knights of Badassdom' that I would have to wait a further 2 1/2 years to actually witness.  The film, for one reason or another, sat dormant until being swept up by distributor eOne Entertainment for fleeting screenings and a decent home video berth.

The story involves a basic collection of boy buddies, the majority of which cling to this Larping thing as if it were a serious religion. When one of their roommates, Joe (Ryan Kwanten of 'True Blood' fame), finds himself abandoned by his true blue love of all that is worth living for the resident nerd posse takes it upon themselves to lure him into a weekend role playing getaway. The gents, made up of a fairly solid batch that includes Steve Zahn (a very accomplished thespian who saw this picture released in the near vicinity of more recognized fair that he also took part in like 'Dallas Buyers Club', now there's a strange double bill) and that mightiest of little big men, Peter ('Game of Thrones') Dinklage, see this as both a bonding ritual to help bring their bummed bro back up to par and as a method of further strengthening their dominance in this fabricated geek realm.

Complications and such arise when Zahn's character, Eric, invokes a diabolical succubus that so happens to occupy the body of Joe's former flame. Once this disturbing revelation comes to the fore, our noble lads must find a way to wrangle their fellows in geekdom to help combat the rising body count and become true, victorious...er bad asses. The guiding hand behind these ramshackle events is Joe Lynch, a director whose most noted previous credit is 'Wrong Turn 2' coupled with acting/producing chores on the late FEARnet series 'Holliston' (which also featured the equally 'late' Gwar frontman Oderus Urungus). Lynch has crafted a right serviceable mash-up of comedic shtick and blood splattering spectacle in spite of the much mumbled about budgetary short comings and debated handling of the actual final edit of the film. The pace and progression of the whole affair is adequate and the technical aspect (especially the mostly old school, hands on make up and gore effects) only aids in the cause. By the time the film rambles its imperfect way to the climactic stage and the final monster is let loose on the party, the picture will likely have endeared itself to many a game viewer (awful pun, you're welcome). The cast gives it like seasoned pros, both the above mentioned peeps as well as Summer Glau (the gal from the T.V. shows 'Firefly' and 'Terminator: The Sarah Conner Chronicles') filling out the hot babe/rebound love interest part and many, many actual dedicated Larper types (many of which were among the crowd lurking around San Diego Comic Con way back when) all do their duty at a commendable level.  

The video release of 'Knights of Badassdom' contains several interview segments with the cast members and the director along with a lengthy panel presentation from the greatly aforementioned Comic Con Hall H appearance wherein many of the players discuss the project and their approach to the material and also entertain questions from selected lucky nerds from the massive crowd. This whole thing makes me ever so eager to return to another ridiculous convention down in southern California this July. Can't wait.

Again, info.....here-knightsofbadassdom-movie.com