Many Returns

Yo! Spooky Month is heading to a party.


I'm guessing you're going out tonight. If you're like me and work the traditional 40 hour, Monday to Friday week, this is your Halloween night out. Maybe not - maybe you don't wanna deal with the drunks and crowds. I hear you. Personally, I'm avoiding any bars this year, a major plus. Going to a party at a friend's house. Much more relaxed but still super fun and a social outing for a change. But maybe that's not your bag. Maybe you're somewhere in the middle, wanting to stay in a watch a movie, but not a lights off, creeper kind of movie. May I suggest the movie that got me fascinated with the undead in the first place? I submit for your consideration - Return of the Living Dead.

I caught this movie on cable back in the mid 90s without any context. Being young and naive, I thought (mistakenly, I later found out) that this insane movie was supposed to be taken at face value as a horror movie. Only when I watched it as an adult did it click with me - Return of the Living Dead is a comedy zombie movie. A Zom Com, if you want to be obnoxious. Still, there are some really messed up moments from this movie - the Tar Man in the basement. The horde of rain soaked, decomposing zombies rushing the ambulance in the dark. The torso that explains through delirious revelations that zombies eat the brains of the living to ease the pain of being dead. In fact, this little known horror comedy is almost single handedly responsible for establishing that notion in wider culture. 

It's not without its detractors, though. It has no connection with the much more revered, Romero-based continuity of Night of, Dawn of and Day of the Dead. John Russo, one of the producers who worked with Romero on the original Night of the Living Dead, held the rights to the titles, and thus established his own continuity with this vein of movies. It's more crass, vulgar and exploitative. It's more of a raucous, rollicking kind of movie in comparison to Romero's terrifying and academic canon. In Return's established universe, the original Night was a cover-by the government after a supposed real life incident in which an army chemical (fictional Trioxin) reanimated the dead. A group of young punks get caught up in the madness when one of their friends, who works at a mortuary, exposes a large quantity of the stuff to the outside world. 

Look, let's be honest here. Return's never gonna win any prestigious awards. It had a surprisingly decent reception and box office performance when it was released. What it will do is take you on an insane ride of splatter-stick comedy and gore. It's violent and over the top, but in an absolutely intentional manner. You want to spice up your night if you're staying in? Give Return of the Living Dead a shot - there is no other movie quite like it, I gurantee it.

Scary Business

Evening, one and all.


It's been a long week for me. One that finds me here, having a cocktail and waxing nostalgic about movies from 15 years ago. I'm glad it's over - Halloween is almost here! So in the interest of Spooky Month, I've been racking my brain, trying to summon the unsung, the things that deserve another day in the sun. Even if the sunlight kills them. Today, it dawned on me - a movie that is surprisingly enjoyable and criminally underrated. Do you guys remember The Frighteners?

In some ways, it's amazing this movie is as unappreciated as it is. First off, it was directed by Peter Jackson. Yes, that Peter Jackson. As a result, it was filmed in New Zealand, which gives a very distinct look to the film - it's a little Beetlejuice-esque in some of its more zany moments, but with gorgeous landscapes and vistas. You want more notoriety? Sure - how about the last major theatrical role by everyone's favorite, Michael J. Fox? We all adored him at his peak, but how many of us saw this hidden gem when it was released? Not I, sadly. Debuting in 1996, I recall seeing the trailers and thinking it looked pretty rad, if a bit off. The kind of movie that seemed too good to be true. Allow me to explain.

The Frighteners is a movie that is, in a way, the flip-side to The Ghostbusters. Fox plays an architect named Frank Bannister (puns!) who loses his wife in a mysterious car accident. Through a series of conveniently obtuse events, he gains the ability to see and commune with the dead. This ability, coupled with a small town's gossip about the mysterious death of his wife, lead him to a career stall-out. He begins to use a few ghost friends to con his fellow townsfolk with staged hauntings and fake poltergeists. It's more than a little over the top, if just a little bit bad ass. His convenient little scheme goes awry, though, when a massive black-robed...thing...begins killing people around him, setting Bannister up as the culprit. These events manage to tie back into a reclusive neighbor and the legend surrounding a long dead serial killer. Needless to say, it gets worse. A lot worse. 

If you have any interest in Spooky Month, you have to see this movie - it's an underrated gem of the horror-comedy genre. Fox is superb as the tortured but good natured con man. His undead friends, one of whom is Chi McBride, are awesomely ghoulish, playing their strange roles with aplomb. Sean Astin's father John gives one last amazing performance. Jake Busey delivers an insane performance as Starkweather, the less of whom I say, the better. It's a surprisingly strong film for a little-known mid-90s horror-comedy. Also of note - it bears more than a passing similarity to Silent Hill 4. Both center around similar antagonists and horrible things that strike from within the walls. 

I have to say, if you've never seen The Frighteners, you're missing out. It's one of Fox's great unsung roles. He has this wonderful anxiety through his whole performance that makes him so energetic and endearing, despite the trouble he causes. It's both freaky and deeky, full of laughs and gore, dancing the line in a superb manner. Check it out before Halloween hits!

Dawn of An Era

I promised myself it wouldn't come to this. 

For Movie Week during the last leg of Spooky Month, I initially thought I would do a whole week of zombie movies. While there was definitely enough fodder to give life to such an indulgent idea, I thought it would be better to cover a broader theme of horror movies than strictly the zombie sub-genre. Well, nuts to that. I'm not saying it's all Romero from here on out, I'm just saying the original 1978 version of Dawn of the Dead is sublime. 

Expanding on the premise posited in the initial Living Dead installment, Dawn of the Dead is everything a sequel ought to be. Well, it's not technically a sequel. None of the characters return, nor do the locales. Instead, it's a movie set in the same universe, the same fictional disaster as the first and following installments. Whereas Night was a claustrophobic, isolated film that ran on anxiety, Dawn is huge and sprawling, working in the notion of growing dread. It's a movie that takes the same scope from the first and opens it up. As Romero pulls the camera back we get a sense of the devastation on a wider scale. We see a clearer take on his examination of modern living as viewed through the lens of horrendous circumstances. His allegories are broader, yet more clearly delivered. The action is more spread out, as are the beats of the story. So what gives? 

Dawn of the Dead, famously filmed in 1977 Monroeville, tells the tale of four survivors as they escape the crumbling of society by seeking shelter in a shopping mall. While that sums up the plot, it's much too brief to encapsulate what happens. The movie opens on a frantic television studio, broadcasting in the last day's of humankind holding their collective crap together. Chaos begins to take over the studio. No one is in control. The government is at a loss (or has pulled back, in a pre-Redeker plan sort of way). No official word will tell anyone what to do, other than to shoot for the head. The dead are coming back to life and attacking the living, and order is breaking down on a massive level. We see a SWAT team enduring a standoff with people in a brownstone who won't obey the imposed curfew and who are also harboring their deceased relatives in the basement. A botched assault occurs and innocent people are killed. Stuff's just going wrong all over, basically. So a plucky group of people (smartly fending for themselves) pilot a stolen news chopper away from the city. After a near-fatal refueling pit stop, the band of survivors find refuge in the newest pantheon of American excess, the shopping mall. After a fantastic series of coordinated operations, they barricade the entrances and clear the mall of remaining zombies...and with that, they're trapped. 

That's what we all forget about the novelty of Dawn of the Dead - seeking shelter in a mall is great until you realize it's just a fancy prison filled with stuff. The four protagonists initially seek material thrills with their surroundings but quickly become disillusioned with the reality of their situation. A pallor falls over them as they attempt to settle in to their new lives as the last people in their own little world, but it only gets worse. I won't give away the end of a 30 year old movie, but suffice to say - it gets worse. It's Romero, so take a wild guess. But needless to say, our own inability to work together is always our own downfall, movie or not. 

The sad thing about all of this is that I shouldn't even have to tell you any of this. Dawn of the Dead wasn't just popular right out of the gate - it's become a legend in the horror field, and the alpha and omega of zombie movies. It's permeated our culture to the point that you don't even realize it until you dig it up. Countless musicians have sampled the iconic soundtrack and score, and even more have sampled audio and bits of dialogue. Entire movies have been inspired just from this film. Without Dawn of the Dead there would be no Walking Dead. Crazy amounts of video games have found inspiration from it, from Resident Evil to Dead Rising. It's become an institution of the zombie genre and is regularly included on lists of the greatest films ever made. The pacing might be a bit sluggish at times, but it's a movie that is so well crafted that a simple premise feels massive and organically hewn. The characters, while not Shakespearean, are natural and believable, enduring the end of the world and struggling to cope in any way they can. Tom Savini's effects are unparalleled, even to this day. I showed a friend of mine this movie and even though he's a horror buff (and I'd seen it several times) we both still winced at some of the more brutal encounters. That's saying something for a movie that's over 30 years old. 

So why do I preach about a movie that seems to get all the respect it deserves? Because it's just that good. I know it has deservingly received accolades for the its quality and longevity, but it still deserves more adoration. While the recent remake was close, it just doesn't hold a candle to the original. Dawn of the Dead is a masterpiece, the very definition of what a zombie movie should be. You don't want to slum it with slasher flicks this Halloween? Look no further. 

Bleak Projections

Spooky Month is about to get real, folks.


A movie like The Blair Witch Project could still scare you in the days before Google, Youtube and omnipresent irony. I remember reading bits and pieces about a supposed found-film piece of cinema that ended poorly. Being from a small town with barely functioning internet access, I only knew the essentials - college kids go wandering off in the woods, something bad finds them, they don't make it back. Only thing was, this time it wasn't so safe and fictional. The kids had been reported lost for quite some time. Their home made, hand-held shot movie was rumored to be melting faces and stopping hearts in art-house cinemas all over the country. I was totally intrigued. Then the cat got out of the bag.

The Blair Witch Project has become something of a punchline or shorthand for a common understanding of DIY aesthetic. That's really being too dismissive of a revolutionary thing, though. The truth of the matter is, even knowing that this movie was (spoilers, you dummy) a work of ingenious fiction, it was still damn scary. That seems to be the big secret that no one wants to acknowledge. We're all too cool and jaded and self-aware to be genuinely unnerved or swindled by any kind of momentum or legitimate feeling of connection. Instead we dismiss and say "Oh, that thing? Yeah, what a lame fake movie, right? Who ever bought into it?" Well, I totally did.

I only saw the bleak, doomed cinema verite affair after the fact. The summer it saw wide release was one full of movies you had to see as a teenager - South Park, The Sixth Sense, I think there was an American Pie in there, too. Maybe not. Sometimes those years blend together a bit. Anyway, the movie came and went in the theaters and I still hadn't seen it. So our local Blockbuster (back when that was a thing) had it on sale in the bargain bin (cat being out of the bag) I picked it up for less than five bones. I took the VHS (yeah, I know) home to my parent's new home in the woods, where I watched it all alone on a Sunday night, lights off, house lights outside reflecting off of the bare tree limbs of late October. I got my business thoroughly freaked out.

It may not be the coolest, most bad-ass thing to say, but I'll stand behind this weird little indie horror flick. It has this air of doom and despair permeating it. You knew going into it that the three plucky teenagers (no matter how obnoxious they could be) weren't going to come home. Something unseen was stalking them, to great affect for a solitary audience. The only way it could have gotten scarier for me was if I had to go orienteering alone in the woods that night. The manner in which the 'show-don't-tell' philosophy is employed here puts it in the same realm as Alien or Jaws. We are so much more terrified by the imagined, unperceived threat than a CGI money shot. Noises in the night stop the blood cold. Snarling beasts leaping at the screen, not so much. The cold air of fall and the empty trees create an unmistakable ambiance, the likes of which I haven't seen in any other horror flick since. 

The Blair Witch Project brought us one step farther into our modern age of in-media-res production and (ugh) "reality" TV. That's the unfortunate legacy of a game changer. This movie was a refreshing novelty, one that deserves a better reputation than we've bestowed it. Turn the lights off and pick a quiet, solitary night. Watch this ground-breaking found-footage horror movie and tell me you're not the least bit affected by it. I'll be waiting in the heart of the metropolitan area with the lights on, far from the woods.

Muffled Scream

Let's look at another old movie, but not quite as old as yesterday.

I recently re-watched the 1996 slasher movie Scream, written by Kevin Williamson and directed by Wes Craven. It was an interesting experience for more than a few reasons, but I'll admit I still found it pretty entertaining some 15 years later. It's interesting to see where we've come from and what our tastes have acclimated to in the intervening years. Scream was responsible for resuscitating the dying genre, one that had become a bad parody of itself. Fitting, then, that an intensely self aware, parodic take on the genre kick started a whole new wave of the very movies on which it was riffing. It became apparent through the modern lens, though, that what the imitators lacked in voice and vitality, Craven stacked them to the rafters in his send up. So what's the deal? What makes Scream enjoyable when it could just as easily have gone stale in the last decade and a half? Let's take a closer look.

 When it was developed and released in the late 90s, the slasher movie was a dying breed. There was little interest in the genre and little of any consequence being produced as both cause and effect of this. It took a creative pairing like Craven and Williamson to inject fresh blood into the field. Coming off the heels of his incredibly prescient meta-contextual love fest that was Wes Craven's New Nightmare, he sought to both send up and send a love letter to a genre on what was perceived to be its last legs. Writing an expanded take on a hyper-self aware script, Williamson gave the director material with which he could do his best. 

Set in the sleepy little town of Woodsboro, Scream starts with a bang. The opening scene (which also gave new life to Drew Barrymoore's stalled career) is immediately captivating. A young woman, alone in her parent's home, is quizzed via the phone about old horror movies. She realizes the person on the phone not only can see her, but is planning to do away with her after violently kill her boyfriend out in her back yard. It's a graphic and horribly flashy way to start the movie but it's also enthralling and sends the clear message that the movie won't be pulling any punches over the next two hours. After the grisly murder of the two high school students, everyone becomes suitably paranoid and a media circus begins. As more and more people meet their untimely ends at the hands of the serial killer in the now iconic Ghostface mask, suspicions grow. Everyone is a suspect. Curfews go into effect. A party is thrown. Teenagers wander off. It all sounds a bit rote, but the plot unfolds in a fairly organic (if by the numbers) manner. Craven, utilizing what was at the time a who's who of young actors, packs the movie with referential dialogue and unspoken nods to forbearance, including some of his own. 

Watching Scream now is an experience not unlike the one I wrote of when I re-watched the Matrix trilogy earlier this year. The things that made this movie fresh and novel back in 1996 were so copied and aped in every way that it's surreal to see them done well and without pretension. That a movie (a horror one, no less) would be so intensely aware of its own pop-culture existence was, at the time, almost groundbreaking. Now it's assumed that you can't make an affecting scary movie without snarky teens making constant self-referential quips in a pained attempt at relevancy. It also seems strange to have a movie in which there is no last minute pulling of the rug from under the audience's feet. Sure, the reveal of who the actual culprit was at the end is a surprise, but the surprise stems from clever misdirection and writing, not an arbitrary plot twist. Teenagers (okay, 20 somethings) giving monologues about 'rules' in a horror movie hadn't been done yet - I remember how during my first viewing of the movie the 'teenagers' and their witty dialogue seemed genuinely hip; now I watched it and  thought they still looked older than me, even though I'm clearly on the far side of college. 

It's an amazing time capsule from the 90s, when you get down to it. Guitar driven rock filling the soundtrack, awkward fashion choices and bad hairstyles, a lack of relentless shiny things to distract from the fact that you're watching a movie. The cast is nowhere near young enough for high school, but still were fun to watch - remember Neve Campbell? Matthew Lillard? Rose McGowan? Skeet Ulrich? Wow. Jaimie Kennedy. Henry Winkler in a dramatic role. This is the movie that introduced Courtney Cox and David Arquette! How weird is that? Give Scream a viewing for Halloween - it's a fun whodunit with an edge, even after all these years.

Alien Essential

It won't all be zombies and ghosts.

To prove that point, today's movie-themed Spooky Month post will focus on one of my favorite movies ever, let alone a quality scary one. It's a movie with a long and storied history, one I'll only partially be able to delve into. Regardless, let's cut right to the chase and take a look at Ridley Scott's 1979 masterpiece, Alien. 

Alien is a movie that inspires awe in me, both as an avid horror buff and as a simple audience member. I knew when I first saw it on VHS back in the mid 90s that it was a renowned piece of movie history. At the time I was just into the sci-fi and titular monsters, the design and lore of which were fascinating. The older I grew and the more I learned about the movie (and to lesser extent the diminishing sequels) the more I respected and appreciated the artistry and craft that went into making this hallmark of horror. Every little tidbit of information made it that much more impressive, in my eyes. But enough fan-boy gushing from me - let me explain what the deal is and why you should care, in case you've (sadly) missed out until now. 

Alien is a claustrophobic, dramatic science fiction movie that established one of the most subversive, original monsters in modern creation. Set aboard an interstellar mining vessel in the semi-distant future (a believable one with well-drawn human characters, not the cardboard-yet-fantastical George Lucas world), it tells the tale of a crew investigating a distress signal on a supposedly uninhabited planet. The ragtag, contentious crew accept company orders to land on the surface and venture out to see what caused the auto-pilot to wake them from their cryogenic hibernation. Among ancient wreckage awaited something...dangerous and absolutely unfamiliar. A crew member is brought back on board with something attached to him, which inevitably leads to an uncanny monster stalking the claustrophobic halls of their vessel. Already back on path to Earth, the near-defenseless crew struggles to survive against the lurking horror. This description is all in the hopes of enticing you without giving away surprises for a movie that's well over 30 years old, so if you have never had the fortune of being terrified by it, for the love of scary movies, see it now. If you already know, then you get why I have to beat around the bush on some of the more central elements. 

But let's assume you're familiar with the movie for a moment. What is it that makes it so remarkable? There are countless reasons, frankly. But is there any particular one that stands out as the backbone to the legendary status of this film? Certainly Ridley Scott's direction is integral, with his gorgeous framing and nail-biting pacing. I can include myself among the many people that swore up and down that the alien changed shape and size throughout the film, despite the concrete evidence to the contrary. His creation of enclosed sets for the mining vessel Nostromo were also a key factor, establishing a real space with palpable tight spots and a sense of being lived in. The cast did a fantastic job of portraying working class people in a future that otherwise would be cliched and hokey. They feel like a genuine band of dysfunctional coworkers with old disagreements and grievances, as well as disparate motivations. Sigourney Weaver did an impeccable job as the heroine, cementing her status as an action lead despite the dearth of women in the field. This casting choice is especially noteworthy considering that it occurred back in the ancient 1970s. 

Of course this all glosses over the most notorious element of all - H.R. Giger's unholy creation. Summoning inspiration from the most biological yet unnatural sources, Giger created a monster that unnerves us and disturbs that sense of normalcy in the mind. When seeing it for the first time, we are naturally repulsed yet intrigued by its simultaneously organic and mechanical elements. Furthermore, the manner in which it reproduces (let alone how it bursts onto the scene) are subversively abhorrent to our standards of tradition and the expected world. The idea of the creature's reproductive cycle and the parallels it possesses to rape and male pregnancy are well established, no doubt causing further unease in our subconsciousness as we watch the film. 

There are tons of little details that add to the movie, giving weight to unspoken themes or just adding to the world we're brought into. The idea of the ship waking up in the opening scenes is added to by framing shots of the monitors in reflective helmets, as though the machines were speaking. Corporate omnipresence Weyland-Yutani's motivations and questionable actions in the face of ethical dilemmas are ever the more prescient today, given the horrible repercussions depicted in the film. This is further elevated by our continuing advances in cybernetics and artificial intelligence. Unacknowledged things in the derelict spacecraft on the surface of the planet also suggest a deeper history to the movie - the Space Jockey is massive, clearly not a human. Further, what was the signal? A warning? A beacon? Attempts in recent movies are only semi-canonical and disappointing at best. The mystery here is so much more fascinating than a hard answer. 

Alien is excellent in every aspect. It is just as terrifying today as it was when it was first released. Quality presentation only adds to the experience. High resolution transfers, a widescreen TV and a dark, quiet place make it more of an immersive, unnerving experience. If you've never seen this masterpiece of science fiction horror, check it out as soon as possible. You want to see the monster? Go find it in the dark.

Hotel Horrors

I promised you this week would not be all about zombie movies.


True to my word, tonight's Spooky Month post is going to be on one of the oldest standards of scary stories, the haunted hotel room. True to form, this iteration of the classic of the genre comes to us via a cinematic adaptation from a Stephen King short story (a form in which the much-covered author excels) starring John Cusack and Samuel L. Jackson. Tonight, we're looking at the surprisingly strong 1408.

This movie's origins can be traced back to the short story collection Everything's Eventual, one of King's more recent salvos in the literary world. Written after his infamous roadside accident, the brief tale is an example of what he does best. It's succinct and to the point, a tale that gets in, gives you the willies, suggests worse things on the horizon and gets out before getting too long winded. A modern take on the old 'strange things happening in a hotel room' story, King paints a truly creepy portrait of a corner of the world that is just 'wrong' enough, just slightly off to the point that he hits all of our subconscious alarms. Reading it the first time gave me the creeps in a major way. Given his track record with TV and film adaptations of his work, though, I had justifiable trepidation over what would happen when I found out 1408 was optioned for development. To my surprise and delight, it's actually pretty damn good.

1408 is a sneaky little trickster of a horror movie. It lulls you in with trusted faces and a warm, golden-tinted cinematography that, together, lull you into a false sense of security. Soon enough, the tale of a 'haunted-attractions writer stumbles upon the real deal' stops pulling the punches and starts hitting you with legitimately scary things. Fresh takes on apparitions and psychic-imprints/haunting. Fake outs that swerve dangerously back and forth to total treachery. Tricks of the mind that make the protagonist and viewer question what they've seen. I love the idea of not just an evil presence, but an entire room being the source of trouble - the way it haunts people beyond it is ingeniously devilish. Getting cancers and terminal illnesses, years after setting foot in a forbidden room? Dastardly paranoia fuel. All of this adds up to a finale that was, to verge into hyperbole, absolutely devastating. Mostly for the protagonist, but as a viewer, man it was a crushing blow.

If you're looking for a good old scare in the classic sense using modern sensibility, look no further than 1408. Cusack is a one man show in the best sense. Sam Jackson is solid as always. The effects are well done and not distracting in the least. It's freaky, it's creepy and it's a crazy ride. Check it out, if you want to get the creeps in hotels. As if they weren't creepy enough, already. 

Dead and Living It

Spooky Month will live forever!


All right, maybe not forever. But I'm digging it, and others seem to be, too. So far I've covered my favorite spooky books, creepy music and unnerving TV specials. Now comes the bread and butter of Halloween, or perhaps the chocolate and candy corn. I'm talking about scary movies, man. So what kind of movies are we talking about? I was gonna do a straight week on zombies, but I figured others have done more of a thorough job than I could hope to as a one man operation. So we shall start this final chapter of Spooky Month by looking into my undying love of the progenitor of the modern zombie zeitgeist - Night of the Living Dead.

What could I say about this pillar of the genre that hasn't been said already? It's already been the subject of heavy critical analysis, modern remakes and art projects galore. What if I just told you that this movie, already a solid forty years old, still manages to be a gripping, harrowing tale when I watch it every Halloween?

It became a bit of a tradition by accident. I would go out gallivanting with friends on Halloween, only to retreat home at a time when I could still get a cab ride and a late night bite. Out of historical appreciation I put on Romero's debut work. Maybe it was the fact that I had been imbibing, but I was really hooked in by the old black and white staple. I was amazed at how good the film looked, having been digitally restored and then up-scaled on a widescreen TV. Lights off, widescreen on, drink in hand - I was enthralled. The next year, the same thing happened by coincidence. By the third year running it had become a bit of a private ritual of mine - I hate staying out late enough for bars to close, so I like to come home early and put on the grandfather of the modern horror flick to celebrate where I feel the roots come from. 

I could go on for days about the little things about Night of the Living Dead that make the movie hold up to this day. The stark, matter-of-fact nature of the cinematography makes the movie just as dramatic now as it was back in the late 60s. Horrible, abhorrent occurances are shot and framed with an unemotional detachment that makes them more real and affecting than hyperactive cuts and edits. There's a drama to what we as a modern audience perceive as dated and muted story-telling, even though when it was released in its initial theatrical run it was considered scandalous and offensively violent. The characters seem both amateur and over the top, but that was the acting style of the day; the fact that the lead is black is hardly remarkable in the least for our current audience, whereas at the time it was considerably forward thinking. Romero has said of his casting choice for protagonist Ben, Duane Jones, that he wasn't attempting to be progressive, the actor just had the best reading of the material. All these weird historical details make a fantastic, legendary film all the more enjoyable.

I'm telling you - watch this movie between now and Halloween. You will not regret it. If nothing else, it's a fascinating example of a landmark film and how our perceptions of taboos have changed. If, like me, you're into it - it's still a Hell of a ride, 43 years later. How many films can still be that evocative, that far after their release? Here's the kicker - due to copyright issues, you can get this movie pretty much anywhere for free. Youtube, anywhere online, at any store for like a dollar, or even as a podcast. The only reason you couldn't get it is because you won't Google it. Here, watch it for free. Just turn the lights off and have a drink while you enjoy.

Darker, Donnie

Maybe I'm full of it.


I wrote, in yesterday's post about White Zombie, that sometimes the Spooky Month music posts wouldn't all be about solitary, creeping experiences and ambient soundtracks. Today's post is absolutely that. Maybe not quite as solitary, but it definitely touches on the idea. But I'm stalling. On to business! Tonight - the soundtrack to Donnie Darko.


I, like many people, discovered Donnie Darko after the fact. Not quite as late as some, but I am pretty confident I was in that first or second wave of viewers, along with my college roommate Phil, who were tipped off about the movie. My friend Jimmy, an avid cinephile, made emphatic recommendations about it in late 2003, when it was finding its audience on DVD. We were part of the crowd that would have seen it in theaters were it not for the shelving of the film due to September 11th. When I was visiting my parents, I rented it and watched it in the dark of their quiet house, off in the woods of Wisconsin. It may have been the setting or my state of mind at the time, but I was deeply moved by the quiet little movie of mysteries. So I went back to my college apartment and made Phil watch the trailer. He was cautiously curious, having dealt with the brunt of my science-fiction and B-movie obsessions. 

Being the good sport he was, he watched it when in the right frame of mind. And again. And again. We were hooked. We discussed the movie and its many layers, the deleted scenes, the hidden meanings and unintended messages in the movie. Being fall and in a very contemplative mood, I also procured the soundtrack whilst dinking around on the internet. Thus began a long series of autumn nighttime drives up and down the Mississippi River Boulevard, debating college-y concepts while listening to the spooky sounds of the Donnie Darko Soundtrack. These cool, rainy nights approaching Halloween are just a bit spookier and more mystical when listening to the haunting chords and piano melodies that scored the other-worldly film.

Written and arranged by Michael Andrews, the soundtrack is a minimalist, ambient affair (of course) that creates an ethereal air by eschewing typical instrumental dramatics by taking a few unusual routes. No guitars, no drums. Lots of piano and organ, some mellotron. Long, drawn out ideas that create musical landscapes to play inside instead of simply echoing what happens on the screen. Little snippets of electronic sounds and bells add a scare here or there. It's serene and unnerving at once, lulling you into a bizarre dream you find yourself questioning. I love having a big old pair of headphones on and letting this soundtrack shape my thoughts while I write or take a walk through the leaves. Of course, that was less of a risk for getting mugged when I lived in residential St. Paul than the middle of Uptown. 

This soundtrack, while not specifically written with Halloween in mind, is definitely spooky in the best way possible. In my defense, the movie itself is set around Halloween and the climax occurs during a costume party. These quiet, sneaky songs give off an air of the strange and uncanny. If you're up late reading a scary book or going for a walk tonight, put on this album and see what unusual things jump out at you. 

Life Or Death

Already one post in and I'm thinking this is gonna be a long month.

I'm all about Halloween, Spooky things and the macabre. Sometimes, though, the subject matter presented in some of this freaky-deeky fiction gets the best of me. While I would love nothing more than to spend a week making emphatic recommendations about Stephen King's career, this one bums me out the more I think about it. It might have something to do with the fact that I just spent Sunday night watching a movie with my cat sleeping in my arms, but man...here we go.

Pet Semetary is some uncanny business. I mean that in the most straight-forward sense. Published back in 1983, the books is about a family in Maine (duh) who move to a rural homestead not far from the titular cemetery. Kind neighbors show them the lay of the land and get them set up in their new life as country folk, but also show them the local pet cemetery as part of the surrounding area. Louis Creed is okay with letting his children learn about the circle of life, his wife is less than okay with it. A busy county highway in front of their house forces their hand in the matter when their cat, Church, is struck down by a semi. Louis, not wanting to upset the balance of his family at a fragile time, makes the kind elderly neighbor Jud take him past a dead-fall at the border of the pet cemetery, into land that has been avoided due to its...strange properties. Known to the local Native American inhabitants as sour ground, their have been legends and tales of things being buried that come back to life. The catch is that the things that come back...come back...wrong. As the neighbor cautions "Sometimes dead is better". It only gets worse from there.

I remember seeing the movie adaptation of Pet Semetary on USA back in the mid 90s, when I was much more easily scared. I'm pretty sure it was broad daylight, but I was definitely disturbed by the images and concepts put forth. Dale Midkiff (who is somehow not Gary Sinise, despite my mind's fervent insistence) put in a great performance in the movie, particularly when a horrible tragedy befalls his family. Fred Gwynne plays Jud! How can you not enjoy that little twist of casting - it's Herman Munster! Anyway, the movie is not a bad adaptation of the book, having aged considerably well for the time and production values. I'd recommend it if you won't read the book.

Honestly, though? Read the book. You get so much more creep factor than you do with the movie. The movie is more of a drama, where as the book is out-and-out disturbingly developing horror. It builds so well. King puts you into Creed's head so well, you begin to understand his rationalization for his actions, even as you think he's off his rocker. What starts as a quiet tale of a family settling in to a new home quickly goes off the rails into a world of old gods and things in the woods that laugh at our assumptions. I still get the willies when thinking about some of what King suggests stalks the woods in Maine. All of this on top of the most repulsive ideas of the uncanny make for an unforgettably creepy tale. 

See how we do this? I might get a little squeamish at my own favorites, but as soon as I start to retread that familiar territory I remember why I get so excited and evangelical in the first place. You have to read this book if you want some horror for October. It's all about walks through the woods in the country, dead leaves and empty trees all around. Believable and relatable characters endure the worst things King can conjure. Nasty stuff. Just look both ways before crossing the street. 

Not As Great

Evening gang.


I've had an up and down weekend. Awesome night out last night with my better half, followed by seeing an amazing piece of real estate belonging to some dear friends, the kind of home you pray for an invitation to. After that, a surprisingly fun-filled trip to the grocer wherein we scrambled for ingredients for a slow-cooking black bean soup. Unfortunately  as soon as my better half finished prepping the slow cook I went for a run, wherein I found out I've been pushing my running too hard, having had an unpleasant knee condition come roaring back to life. I was good and pissed.  To distract (and exhaust) my mind from the frustration, I took in a session of hot yoga; at the end of the hour I was an imbecilic pool of sweat and loose muscles. I had a wonderful dinner with my better half and took in a doc with her. Unfortunately, the doc was a middling affair, but one that deserves a look regardless.


The doc I speak of is Morgan Spurlock's latest endeavor - Pom Wonderful Presents The Greatest Movie Ever Sold. It was, without question, an engaging and relevant film made by a charming and talented artist. Unfortunately, it was a movie that lacked any teeth or grand sense of purpose. Despite that flawed nature, I would still strongly recommend seeing the movie, if only to achieve greater understanding of the manner in which marketing impacts our lives.

To cite the example made in the doc itself, Spurlock's method of creation here is almost an Inception-level of meta-artistry - he sets about making a movie about how marketing and the demands of sponsors influences the creation of a movie while seeking sponsors and marketing for the same movie. The idea, while cheeky at first glance, is very insightful. It's quickly apparent that companies are not comfortable with the idea of the marketing machine being turned back upon itself. The desires and motivations of corporations are soon lain bare as CEO and Marketing Directors turn down their respective offers to be a part of Spurlock's latest outing. Their apprehension is understandable, given his past as a modern muckraker. Eventually, though, they acquiesce and sponsors line up to get their share of ultra-modern commercialism. This is the first movie I've ever seen where honest-to-goodness commercials actually appear in the film itself. It's an inherently bothersome concept that not only brings to light the horrible state of marketing but also furthers the evolution of the notion while bringing it to a wider audience.

Therein lies the rub, for this doc. Spurlock is such an entertaining filmmaker that one could easily make excuses for why this movie fails to deliver. It's a rare, honest glimpse into the industry; still, Spurlock pulls every damn punch possible. It's like watching him set up a fascinating, scathing doc and then saying "Well the sponsors thought I should tell more jokes". Yes, you say, but isn't that disconnect the whole point of the movie? Shouldn't we be digging farther into what drives us as a culture, or how mass marketing is quickly becoming a more ingrained, yet less acknowledged, part of our lives? What gives? Spurlock hides behind his concept as if it should excuse him from accountability. His jokes about selling out are a little too accurate, it seems. 

I know this sounds really negative and holier-than-thou. It shouldn't - I enjoyed the movie, regardless. He brought a lot of novel concepts to light and may potentially reach a wider audience by making this movie. Still, having thoroughly enjoyed his previous works, I was let down by The Greatest Movie Ever Sold. Spurlock is a whole lot easier to get on board with than Michael Moore. I'll say this - give this movie a chance, just to get a better sense of what we're up against every day and how it affects us. It may not be a game changer, but it is hands down more intelligent and engaging than your typical product-pushing blockbuster. Not a bad weekend day, but it could certainly have been better without these little quibbles and frustrations.

Sick As A Dog

I am ready for the weekend.


What's up? It's been a long week. I don't know exactly what did it, but I'm spent after the work week. Maybe it's the weather; it's so hard to get up in the morning when it's this dark out. Fall just peeks around the corner and suddenly there's no sun from 8pm to 7am. Not even October and already the ratio is dangerously close to more night than day. I've got to stay alert and ambitious if I'm to avoid a malaise.


So I took in a movie with my better half. Been a while since that's happened. I love horror flicks, she loves documentaries. While it would seem like there's little overlap, we find a common bond in the micro genre of outbreak/virus movies. I have no idea why but she gets such a thrill from society's collapse at the hands of a deadly disease. Okay, maybe I totally get it. Either way, we had a mini date night and saw Steven Soderbergh's latest offering: Contagion. It was...interesting. We might have done better taking in some popcorn flair, but it was thought provoking.

Allow me to clarify. Contagion was a well made, sobering hypothesis of what could certainly happen in the face of an unprecedented viral outbreak on a global scale. It has a cast littered with Academy Awards, from Matt Damon to Marion Cottilard to Jude Law. It has a scientifically plausible basis in reality. It also makes for a depressing Friday night, if I do say so. To summarize what trailers can break down in digestible fashion, Gwyneth Paltrow dies in the first ten minutes. I'm okay with that. She serves as a Typhoid Mary for an unidentified virus that spreads rapidly and has a high fatality rate. The CDC beings piecing things together, but not fast enough, sadly. Before the end of the movie you witness a steady and relentless breakdown of society. People's worst fears begin to come true as millions drop off, the government soon resorting to quarantines and mass graves. People panic, rioting and looting become the norm, social norms are abandoned. It's intense and unpleasant in every way possible. 

It's also a very well made film. Soderbergh has a steady and static approach that establishes scenes as reality. The writing is grounded and based in truth. Easily the best aspect to the film, though, is the cast. A number of top stars turn in great performances. Jude Law is wonderfully unbearable as a blogger who's reputation goes to his head. Matt Damon is a believable family man. Kate Winslet is passionate and throws herself into her role as a woman devoted to her career - made all the more impressive knowing her entire performance for the movie was shot in just ten days. Of particular note was Laurence Fishburne, who turns in a performance of strength and humanity I'd not seen of his previously. His role as a high ranking member of the Department of Homeland Security. He's tops in the film, a real notable performance.

As good as the movie is, there are flaws. Dramatic beats are lost to a bigger picture. Some massive gaps in logic persist. Hey, some of the riots and public reaction to the government's actions would (sadly) involve more of the (ugh) Tea Party than the movie depicted. It's not much of a fun Friday night; I came away from it thinking I need a conceal and carry permit and a better dry storage room. It might not be Soderbergh at the height of his game, but it's still a fascinating watch. Maybe you check it out on a more low key night. Just cover your mouth if you have to cough.

Monster Sounds

Evening, gang.


I've written about soundtracks and the wonderful intersection of film and music on numerous occasions. Most often it's with praise for both aspects of the concept - how the burbling techno of The Dust Brothers compliments the cold alienation of Fight Club, how noir-esqu jazz pieces and overly dramatic metal add to the gloom and doom of Lost Highway or the connections between the ambient discord of Akira Yamaoka and Silent Hill in its many forms. Unfortunately this is not always the case. Sometimes, due to a myriad of forces, a film can be an absolute stinker and still have a decent soundtrack. Take, for example, the curious case of the Godzilla soundtrack. Strap in, gang - it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

Anyone who paid attention to (or was subjected to) the marketing blitz behind the reboot of the Kaiju mainstay was aware of the bomb that was 1998's Godzilla. It was a flawed beast from the start - multiple starts, rushed shooting and not even getting a test screening were just some of the problems that led to fans of the monster movie franchise dubbing it "GINO" or Godzilla in name only. It has a lowly 26% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. The VHS was $2 when it was new, so my older brother picked it up on a whim when we were younger, just to see what the trouble was. It was pretty bad. Strangely enough, the soundtrack still sounds pretty solid in parts.

Released just prior to the horrible movie, the soundtrack is actually a pretty good time capsule of what major label acts were popular at the time. Not only that, the songs they contributed weren't the usual cannon fodder of b-sides and outtakes but strong songs that I still listen to every now and then, weird as that may be. Not everything on record was gold, but there was a lot of good stuff. Rage Against the Machine's 'No Shelter' is a scathing rocker that blasts the distractions of (ironically) of mass media. Jamiroquai turn the panic of war into a funky dance number in 'Deeper Underground'. 'Air' by Ben Folds Five is a gorgeous slice of late 90s alternative music. There are contributions from big acts like The Wallflowers and Green Day, as well as less known acts like Fuel and Days of the New.

My favorite tracks here, by far, are from Foo Fighters and Silverchair. Their respective tracks, 'A320' and 'Untitled', are both rockers that have hints of classical influences peaking through the distortion. The Foo Fighters track has a softer, more contemplative feel as Dave Grohl explores a fear of flying. Silverchair's song alternates between somber and and off-the-walls, flipping from orchestrations to super heavy distortion. They're both nuanced pieces but in different ways. 

Alright, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the real monster on the soundtrack. A great producer (but terrible rapper) took 'Kashmir' by Led Zepplin, with Jimmy Page's full consent, and turned it into a middling rap/rock...thing. It was a sad sign of things to come - more rap rock, more hits perverted, more of Sean Combs rapping. I've never liked his rapping but I always liked the source material. Oh well, I don't have to listen to it. Godzilla may have stunk, but like this song, I don't have to watch it - the soundtrack has some great stuff on it, even if one or two things stink. Listen for the good stuff. Forget the monsters.