MORTAL PHASES

This month I am going to devote some quality time toward a surprisingly good modern day take on one of the oldest school fractions of the monster movie sub-genre. Said film, calling itself 'Late Phases' (with the subtitle, 'Night of the Lone Wolf' on the cover art but nowhere in the film) and hailing from the good folks at Glass Eye Pix (by way of Dark Sky Films) seeks to pull itself up from the oft tread conventions tied tight to the common fold of the werewolf film staple and branch off in a decidedly different, more character fueled, direction.

Situated in some far flung, small in scale New York state locale dubbed 'Crescent City', 'Late Phases' weds the viewer close to the pared down living situation of one vision free war vet name of Ambrose McKinley (realized onscreen by the ever dependable Nick Damici) with little more to yearn for but to count off the remaining days of his dwindling existence with his loyal pooch by his side. Our dutifully complacent chap has just freshly set down in these uneventful parts (with the aid of his always distracted son, played by Ethan Embry) when, from directly out of nowhere, arrives an intrusive menace of an extremely bestial nature. It would appear, as the pesky quirks of horror movie fate would have it, that the 'harmless' vibe of this community is seriously inflected by a heady dose of Lycanthropic corruption.

The first thick taste of such comes in very direct fashion one fitfully solemn evening wherein our main man cursed with the failed eyeballs must quickly acclimate to a violent, fatal attack upon, first his kindly neighbor and next his ever faithful, four legged best friend. Promptly following this unprovoked assault, Ambrose sets forth to plot a course of action that will, hopefully, locate, isolate and snuff out the savage culprit. What this will ultimately entail is the deeper delving into the predictably conservative social circles that inform the spine of this specific slice of small town Americana. Ambrose attempts (not often successfully) to win the trust of the resident old biddy greeting committee (designed, to a degree, after characters in the original 'Stepford Wives' as confessed by the director on the revelatory commentary track) as well as integrate himself into the thick of the area religious populace (which looks to be a fair chunk of the story's supporting players). This all unfolds in a fairly expected manner with a series of not-so-stable confrontations giving way to the inevitable red herring or two on the way to the customary human to were-thing transformation reveal that these kinds of pictures are cemented around.

Fortunately for us, this oh so potentially simple and cliché susceptible piece of lower budget, wolfman calamity is guided to a far nobler fruition by the totally able hand of a gent named Adrian Garcia Bogliano. Those precious few of you who actually follow my scattershot column on a constant basis may recall that name as being associated with a lively film I covered but a year ago called 'Here Comes the Devil'. That film proved itself the wealthy result of an ingenious and uber-resourceful filmmaker who could absorb and adapt his volumetric genre influences to the benefit of a work that, in itself, was wholly original and effortlessly engrossing. 'Here Comes the Devil' also marked the widest ever exposure in this America Bogliano had yet been graced with. This reasonable level of cult success on, mostly, the festival circuit served to put him in a position to take the next best step forward in his rising career, to craft a film within our lovely boarders. Thus, 'Late Phases' was born.

For this, Bogliano's official English lingo debut, the man has carted a few of his well honed directorial traits with him. Witness the soothing warmth of the often succulent cinematography that works one into a lull to pull them away from the danger you know damn well is impending. See, as well, the fetishistic dedication to utter practicality when it comes to the meat of his film's FX work. Minimal digital input was employed in the rendering of the beasties or their unsparing carnage. What you eventually lay eyes on is, for the most part, pure latex, body in suit reality (the 'from scratch to completion' details can be found in the 30 minute featurette 'Early Phases' which ventures into creature maker Robert Kurtzman's studio to casually observe the nuts and bolts behind it all). Now, while it makes for a slight case of sensory adjustment, these delightfully cheesy monstrosities actually prove to be effective throwback, shock horror material once the last stains of polished digital trickery fall from ones' psyche. They help to propel the mounting unease as generated throughout the narrative between our protagonist and a litany of set minded residents who can never really gel to Ambrose's somewhat cold, do it yourself persona.

It seems this fella's determined in-town snooping has raised up the red flag with a number of folks from the gabby spinsters to the local police and back around to the members of faith who express equal parts concern and distain at his disruptive behavior. In the end, it all must spiral back to a case of a life hardened man and his sharpened wits pairing up against a violent wall of supernatural opposition, something the film rather effectively marries to the concept of a fading mortal soul facing its' concluding moments.

'Late Phases' is, apart from being a solid genre entry occasioned by welcome bursts of quality gore, a very satisfying roll out of distinct characters and the fitting performances that breathe them to cinematic life. In addition to the fine, subtly rendered lead work by Damici (whom some may recall from his team ups with stellar director Jim Mickle, like 'Stakeland"), the picture is peppered with many a (semi) familiar mug from across the cult-pop culture entertainment landscape.

The statuesque Tom ('House of the Devil', 'Last Action Hero') Noonan takes part as a mentor like preacher with a soft spot for cigarettes, Tina Louise (Ginger from Gilligan's Island, now looking more like a Golden Girl) show up as one of the pesky neighbors, Lance Guest (the teen hero of 'The Last Starfighter') is a rather creepy hanger on at the church and former 'Twin Peaks' bad boy Dana Ashbrook cameos as an underground gun dealer. All help to fill out the background details nicely. Each piece of this decent cast works to raise the end product well above the standards long set down by one too many a slapped together, direct to the shelf, werewolf themed time killer.

'Late Phases' features the usual extra stuff (some of it mentioned above); play by play audio commentary, a pair of featurettes and the film's trailer. It comes to availability on Blu Ray and/or DVD from the aforementioned Dark Sky Films (darkskyfilms.com).

Worth a shot, I say.

Now, for a much needed passing mention to the ongoing phenomenon of the film festival in this state of ours. With many such cinema based gatherings taking place all across Wisconsin (Wildwood in Appleton, Wisconsin International Film Fest in Madison plus collectives in Green Bay, Milwaukee, Weyauwega and many, many others) I thought it only fitting to pass along a quick assemblage of my own make pretend fest line up culled from many recent finds that I just never got around to rambling about in a regular column.

1. 'Whiplash'-Call it 'Full Metal Jazz Band'. Young drummer with obvious skill set comes under the intense tutelage of a firebrand instructor (J.K. Simmons in an Oscar winning, volcano of a performance). The film charts how the poor lad must endure relentless immersion into the methods of his chosen craft (often to the sharp accompaniment of a barrage of profane insults) in order to come out the other side as one of the greats. The best I've seen, thus far, of the most recent slate of Academy Award darlings (sorry Birdman).

2. 'Under the Skin'- Scarlett Johansson is an alien newly arrived on Earth (more explicitly, Scotland) with an apparent agenda of luring suitable human males, by virtue of her foxy exterior, to her mysterious lair for abduction and...uh...processing purposes or something. Slow, spare and enigmatic, the film marks a return to filmmaking after a near decade of absence for Jonathan Glazer ('Sexy Beast', 'Birth') who takes the bare skeleton of Michel Faber's source novel and has crafted an absorbing study of a being out of place in an environment made all the more alien in itself as the whole film seems to align with Scarlett's character's somewhat abstracted point of view. Dense and challenging in its ambiguity.

3. 'The Guest'- Those clever, 'wink, wink', cats behind the home invasion splat fest 'You're Next', Adam Wingard and Simon Barrett, are back with another jumpy thriller that repeatedly nods back in time toward entries from multiple genres from the 80s and 90s. A soldier on return from the Afghan war ingratiates himself as the proposed combat pal of a naïve family's fallen son. The mystery thickens as the man (essayed by 'Downton Abby' star Dan Stevens) turns out to hold secrets that could prove quite threatening to his obliging hosts. Twisty, stylish fun in an old school, accidental video store discovery kind of way.

4. 'Starry Eyes'- Think of one of David Lynch's starlet in trouble scenarios played out on a more straight arrow path, for awhile, until the darker themes of the storyline bleed vividly to the surface. Somebody named Alex Essoe stars as Sarah, a waitress at a typically degrading Hooters knock off joint who yearns to be a star, awww. She claims she'll do anything to get the part and soon finds herself put to the test of making good on her word in the most unexpected and disturbing way. Relentless once it kicks into its' true narrative intent, with a game lead performance by Essoe that runs an emotional gauntlet that stands to gut the soul of any timid viewer.

5. 'VHS Viral'+'The ABC's of Death 2'- The latest additions to the two anthology franchises that have done all in their power to fully revitalize the format to the level once held by the likes of 'Creepshow'. They're not quite there, but not for lack of persistence and notable improvement of product (especially 'ABC's' which had a lot to make up for in relation to its inaugural entry). Segments very wildly as per usual, but there seems to be a shift in favor of craftsmanship and stronger ideas (as opposed to beat you over the head gross out/shock tactics) which gives me great hope as this whole concept continues to move foreword. Bring on the next round.  

6. 'Life Itself'- A look at the life and uneasy death (more to the point, dying days) of the most famous of all movie critics, Roger Ebert. 'Hoops Dreams' creator Steve James conducts a series of interviews with a post speech, jaw removal Ebert in his hospital room and interweaves the recollection of Roger's rise from lowly Illinois newspaper lackey to the heights of cinematic analysis as the co-host of the popular 'At The Movies' syndicated program and beyond with input from some of the man's big name pals like Martin Scorsese and Werner Herzog. We see images from Ebert's youth in Urbana, IL and hear recollections from many mouths of his tussle with serious alcohol abuse before he became the sweater sporting rival to fellow Chicago film critic Gene Siskel. Funny, revealing and a bit unsettling (James is often present for Ebert's sometimes unpleasant medical upkeep), 'Life Itself' is a fully rewarding look at one of the most unique of all modern celebrities, in this overburdened age of self indulgent blogging and social network info-overkill will there ever be elbow room enough for another like him? Me thinks not.

That's enough. Happy festing, no matter how or where you do it.

killpeoplenamedrichard@yahoo.com

ARCTIC APOCALYPSE.

http://ostromiii.tumblr.com/post/107791391209/trapped-above-ice

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.