Olive Street Cinema, no. 7 | of suicide cults, stuntmen, and supernatural widows

La Vampire Nue (1970) - For those of you whose French is creaky, the translation of this film title is, indeed, The Nude Vampire, which should be explanation enough for how it is we came to watch this.  I have aspirations to become something of a Eurohorror/Eurosleaze aficionado, but as of now, this is the first and only Jean Rollin film I've ever seen, Rollin being known for films that are stylized and elegant, but also messy and tedious.  La Vampire Nue is those things, exactly.  There didn't seem to be much by the way of plot, and continuity and logic were not of the highest importance to Rollin.  Costumes, color, and movement, there was plenty of, in a fascinating array.  The movie was riddled with striking, highly sexualized, totally superfluous scenes--scenes which stretched for minutes, or tens of minutes, without adding anything to the plot.  Really, this felt like a collection of arthouse softcore vignettes.  And though this is classified as horror, the horror element is incredibly downplayed.  Very little blood appears in thie movie, and only three deaths, all of which are at the hands of humans.  In fact, the end seems to suggest that Rollin had some metaphor to convey: the vampire isn't a vampire, but a mutant, the highest evolution, and it is mankind who are the vampires.  Nonsense, mostly, but visually effective nonsense.  Also, I like my weeknight movies to be ones I don't have to pay close attention to, which is why I love this subgenre so much, I must admit. 3/5 stars.

via Crypt of the Sorcerer

Hot Rod (2007) - I am a fan of the Lonely Island.  I feel like it's important for me to inform you of that, as a sort of disclaimer, because now I'm about to say something that could be kind of controversial.  Funniest movie I've seen in years.  In fact, I'd go so far as to say this is the funniest movie made in the last decade.  This is more consistently funny than Anchorman (which is mostly solid) and Hangover (which doesn't hold up on a second viewing, imho).  It's not just that this is funny.  I'm particular about comedies, and though in every day life I am a laugh slut (I'll give it up for just about anything), when watching films and stand-up routines meant to make me laugh, I'm a tough sell.  What makes Hot Rod so perfect a comedy is that while playing with the same old tropes--slapstick, manboy embarrassing himself in front of the object of his desire--it also has so many unexpected jokes.  There were so many moments in this movie when I thought I knew where a joke was going, only to be blindsided by something so strange, so silly, so pleasantly surprising and new.  Jorma Taccone, Bill Hader, and Danny McBride are each perfectly contained, in a way which doesn't allow for cheap laughs or caricatures.  These actors have been boiled down to the very essence of the sort of funny they can bring to the table, as are the periphery actors (Sissy Spacek, Ian McShane, Chris Parnell, Chester Tam).  I have only two complaints.  Will Arnett's part as the smarmy boyfriend is one I've seen a million times, and though Will Arnett does smarmy boyfriend well, it would've been nice to see him given something truly strange to do, to deviate from the stock character a bit (I'm thinking of his part as smarmy nemisis in 30 Rock).  And, lastly, Isla Fisher, (because she is a woman? because she is beautiful?) got stuck playing the straight character to all the silliness around her, which is such a terrible waste.  Isla Fisher is the only reason to watch Wedding Crashers, after all.  This is a funny actress, who doesn't mind doing ugly and crazy on screen.  It would've been nice if she, like Will Arnett, had been allowed to deviate a bit from the trope. 4/5 stars.



via Krystal NEFF



Dracula's Widow (1988) - Netflix sure is good at recommending some turds to we Wolfpeople.  (Can we blame Netflix, though, for not understanding the difference between B movies so-bad-they're-good and movies that are bad because they are boring and mediocre?  Perhaps the day a machine can tell the difference is a day I should fear, not look forward to.)  Written and directed by Nic Cage's brother, Christopher Coppola, this is the story of Raymond (Lenny von Dohlen--squirrely Harold of Twin Peaks), an eccentric waxworks creator in Hollywood.  Raymond receives an extra crate in a shipment of Dracula memorabilia for an upcoming exhibit, that extra crate being Vanessa (Sylvia Kristel of 70's softcore fame), the eponymous widow of Dracula.  As Raymond kicks back, creep-style, with a brandy snifter and a film reel showing Nosferatu (of course), Vanessa attacks him, telling him that now he belongs to her and feeding on him.  Raymond becomes a sort of Renfield slave, enthralled, terrified, repulsed, and giddy in turns.  I would be inclined to say that Lenny von Dohlen is a fair actor except that he portrayed all these same emotions, to the same degree, in almost the same order, in Twin Peaks.  Though Raymond is being made to witness Vanessa's slaughters and, in one scene, is relegated to feeding on a fish plucked raw from a creek, Raymond holds onto his humanity through his precious virginal girlfriend, Jenny, who still lives with her parents in a sort of baby doll bedroom and dresses like a school marm.  Though there is obviously a sexual element to Vanessa's hold over Raymond, it's not explored, which I think is a waste of casting an actress like Sylvia Kristel (and then dressing her, inexplicably, in an unflattering 80's power suit).  Coppola's focus, instead, is on the grotesque savagery of Vanessa.  This vampire is most certainly a monster, one who transforms into a creature (somewhat bat-like, and moreso later in the film when she fully transforms into a naked, stop-motion animated bat/human hybrid), which literally tears into its victims with elongated claws, leaving behind unrecognizable, pulpy messes.  This is, actually, my preferred version of vampire--the 30 Days of Night Vampire, who is animalistic and, undoubtedly, smells like rot.  (A note: it is possible for smell to be portrayed effective makeup and other effects; the effects in this movie are not quite at that standard but are decent enough.)  There's some nonsense about a hard-boiled cop and the gleeful grandson of Van Helsing; Coppola wanted this to feel like a film noir, but none of the narration amounts to much.  Really, this movie can be summed up in a series of cut-shots of body parts and a wimpering Raymond.  2/5 stars.

Olive Street Cinema, no. 6 | of aliens, vampire aliens, and murder

Super 8 (2011) - I knew this would be  the case.  I knew after viewing the trailer (I think before one of the Deathly Hallows movies?) that this was not going to be my thing.  But, Wolfman, moreso than me, is sometimes tricked into thinking children are cute.  (Whereas I tend to think of children much the way some superstitious people think of brownies or pixies or kobolds.)  The idea I'm trying to express with all this wordage is this: too many close-ups of children's faces.  This film suffers from far too many close-ups of precocious children's tear-stained faces.  I just.  Can't.  I felt as though I was being poked consistently thoughout the movie by some greasy movie exec saying, "How about that?  That's emotional, eh?  That's a real tear jerker, eh?"  Ugh, shut up, greasy exec; I'm trying to watch a fucking movie.  Unearned sentimentality: this movie has it.  Also, for a movie called "Super 8", the film making aspect of the plot wasn't utilized as much as it could've been.  While I'm just not that into precocious childrens' faces and emotional states, I wouldn't have minded watching more clips from their home-made movies.  These kids were, clearly, very clever and talented.  (Little Joe Lamb's zombie make-up effects were brilliant!)  But, I think the biggest problem with this film has nothing to do with the movie itself, but with another 2011 flick about children meeting face-to-face with alien entities: Attack the Block.  Attack the Block was challenging and surprising, and just a little gorey, and very funny. (And please trust me when I say I am not one of those people who automatically assumes or claims something is better just because it's British; I very vocally prefer the US version of The Office to the UK version.)  Super 8, on the other hand, was simply a less-good E.T.  2.5 out of 5 stars.

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Not of This Earth (1988) - Roger Croman-produced (and a remake of his own 1957 Not of This Earth), this is perhaps best known, simply, for being the first "mainstream" movie made by Traci Lords following her debacle of a porn career.  The opening credits consist of creature and gore effects clips from previous Roger Corman movies which, to my mind, is the definition of fiscal responsibility.  (There is a reason this man never lost a dime on any of his 400+ flicks.)  The story of this film is one of a sci fi vampire (they sometimes crop up to varying degrees of success; "Vampires of Venice" anyone?), yet none of the investigating police ever actually said the word "exsanguinated," which would suggest that the script might be a clunky one.  Actually, I found it to be clever and funny (even cute at moments, like when the Birthday-singing stripper-gram girl shows up at the wrong house and laments, adorably, "I can't see anything without my glasses").  Roger Corman simply knows his audience--boobs appear on screen within two minutes of the movie starting, after all.  Traci Lords also appears topless while thoughtfully (much more thoughtfully than I ever have) toweling herself dry post-shower, which is the only nude scene she's ever done post-porn.  (She apparently has tried through her career to separate her film career from her porn career, which means perhaps her appearance in Zack and Miri Make a Porno indicates a tongue-in-cheek change of heart.)  By the way, if her role as Wanda Woodward in Cry-Baby wasn't an indication, Traci Lords is a very natural actress and charming to watch.  3.5 out of 5 stars.

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Theatre of Blood (1973) - Of Vincent Price's 107 completed films, he considered Theatre of Blood a personal favorite, and I can see why.  My wish of seeing Price do Shakespeare (in the hammiest, most robust of readings) was finally fulfilled as he played a sociopathic actor seeking revenge on the theatre critics guilty of writing bad reviews of his productions--killing each individual according to the deaths in the Shakespeare plays in his repetoire.  I love the aesthetic of certain 70's horror flicks--the camera angles and choice of surrounding characters and extras (in this case a gang of murdering hobos) is always drippingly gothic and macabre, while the music, sets, and wardrobe reek of evening soap operas.  And though I would say most horror flicks made before 1975 are SFNHF (Safe For Non-Horror Fans), some of the deaths in this film may not be for the easily squeamish (though the gore is kept to a minimum, excluding an awfully funny decapitation scene in which blood sprays about a sleeping chamber in dialogue-punctuating spurts).  In fact, Theatre of Blood may include one of (if not the) first murder-by-force-feeding scenes, which always make me a bit nauseated (see also: Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child and Se7en), and  to specify, a murder-by-force-feeding-victim's-beloved-poodles scene.  Pause a moment to let that sink in.  ... Okay, still with me?  The image I'd like to leave you with, though, is that of Vincent Price saying some version of "it's cool, baby" while wearing an afro wig.  Because that happens.  4 out of 5 stars.



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Olive Street Cinema, no. 5 | Of imagination, sexual awakening, blueberry pie, and that awkward post-college disillusionment

Bridge to Terabithia (2007) – I recently read and fell in love with Katherine Paterson’s novel, Bridge to Terabithia, and went into this movie hopeful but skeptical (which, source material or no source material, is the attitude I take to every kid’s movie, honestly), and I was very pleasantly surprised.  This movie is a very loyal adaptation of the book’s theme and mood and follows the plot closely.  I was so glad, in particular, that the film did not cut out my favorite scene in the book, the conversation between Leslie, Jess, and May Belle concerning the Bible and hell—being a Disney film, I’d wrongly assumed the production team would automatically cut out any discussion of religion.  I was also very taken with the aesthetics of this film—painting walls gold to capture the late afternoon sun, keys and old discarded wine glasses hanging from trees, capturing light beams from a stained glass window in a clasp purse for later use—and the keen eye of the wardrobe department.  Jess is truly dressed like a poor kid, with frayed edges and dingy colors which are apparent but not exaggerated.  I felt a little pang of recognition early in the movie when Jess’s duct-taped tennis shoes are replaced by an image-conscious mother with hand-me-down sneakers even more embarrassing to Jess (as they belonged to an older sister and are, subsequently, the wrong color).  And the magical thinkers of the film, Leslie and Ms. Edmunds, dressed colorfully and idiosyncratically, while still staying within the realm of the believable.  No vintage Betty Draper dresses here.  In fact, Zooey Deschanel was charismatic without falling back on coyness or quirkiness; she is an adult in this film, while still carrying an air of magic.  A lot was asked of the child actors in this movie, and I thought the leads delivered, but I was particularly taken with Bailee Madison (May Belle)—her emotional range sort of blew me away.  And if we’re speaking of acting, I’d be remiss if I did not mention Robert Patrick (when is he not so good?), perfect in the role of Jess’s stern but sympathetic father.  I also loved that every time Jess’s father entered a scene, we could hear his keys jingling in his belt loop.  I was less impressed with the CGI, but I understand that to make this a viable children’s movie, that animation was necessary.  My only real problem with the film was the off-putting use of modern music (I make this complaint about every movie).  I would’ve much preferred a movie score interspersed with the interesting song choices made for Ms. Edmund’s music class, which cleverly helped move the plot along.  I don’t know why there’s such a focus on making things forcibly “hip”; this movie could very well have taken place in the 70’s, when it was written.  Only the fact that the setting is a small country town made the lack of cell phones and computers realistic.

Year of the Carnivore (2009) – While I can appreciate that there exists a movie about a young woman’s sexual awakening and coming-of-age, this was sort of painful to watch.  And, of course, it’s meant to be painfully awkward, but I don’t really enjoy these types of movies.  I’m a little bored with and exhausted by these claustrophobic, grainy, independent movies with their repressed, socially inept, mightily unlikeable characters.  I do not find it necessary to like the characters in order to like a movie or television show, but if a film or book presents a love interest who fuels our protagonist’s quest, I’ve got to believe that he’s worthwhile.  And while Mark Rendall is genuinely cute with that shock of red hair, his character, Eugene Zaslavsky, is kind of an a-hole.  My favorite parts of the movie, those scenes in which I actually enjoyed what was happening on screen and thought Cristin Milioti (our protagonist, Sammy) was at her most watchable, were Sammy’s conversations about sex, self-esteem, and what it means to be a woman with Miss Nakamura (Linda Uyrehara Hoffman).  In fact, I could have watched an entire movie of just Sammy and Miss Nakamura—ixne on Eugene’s terrible band, the horrifying sexual encounters, the wasted presence of Kevin McDonald as father in the forced subplot involving Sammy’s parents.  This could still have been a movie about Sammy’s sexual misadventures, but told through the filter of dialogue with a sage, saucy old lady mentor and confidante; then, conclude the movie with that cathartically beautiful scene of Sammy and Miss Nakamura skinny dipping in the public pool.  I would have loved that movie.

My Blueberry Nights (2007) – This is my first Wong Kar Wai experience, but I take it from commentary that he’s known for this incredibly stylized visual intrigue, which I loved for the most part.  In fact, I had a moment about three minutes into the film in which I thought to myself, “I can either love this style or hate it, and I choose to love it.”  And, for once I was actually charmed by Jude Law!  Usually, I find him creepy (I can’t explain this to people who claim he’s the sexiest man alive; sorry for talking ill of your boo).  However, he still appears to me to be the sloppiest kisser in movies.  Every time I see him kiss, all I can think is, “Too much tongue!  Too much mouth in general, geez!  Let that poor girl breathe!”  And this, of course, is unfortunate given that the plot and movement of this film center around a kiss.  Norah Jones is a quiet presence on screen, but still sort of electrifying.  Of course, for various personal and nostalgic reasons I will not get into, Norah Jones holds a special place in my heart, but I don’t think it is purely bias when I say one’s eyes gravitate to her when she’s on screen, even in favor of such charismatics as Natalie Portman and Rachel Weisz.  While I enjoyed the film scene by scene, the whole felt a little disjointed.  It made sense to me when I learned later that originally, the movie was envisioned as taking place entirely in the diner (the diner scenes were the best, incidentally), and Elizabeth’s road trip was added later on to give the movie some scope and movement.  Elizabeth’s first stop is Tennessee, and the Tennessee vignette was beautifully acted, if a little heavy and overwrought.  I did not enjoy the Nevada vignette as much—the visual style which before was so appealing was a little dizzying and cumbersome in these scenes.  Also, if the movie was to become a sort of modernized road trip saga, the film would’ve benefitted from one more stop in Elizabeth’s journey.  With just two towns (though more are implied) before Elizabeth returns to NY and Jeremy’s diner, her story felt a little incomplete, tacked on haphazardly, rather than simply loosely framed as the movie was meant to be.

Tiny Furniture (2010) – I have great hopes for Lena Dunham.  She’s got a very specific and sophisticated visual eye, and for all the messiness of characters and dialogue in Tiny Furniture, the directorial choices she makes are always clean and crisp, likely as a purposeful juxtaposition.  And, her dialogue is sharp and very smart, very funny—akin to much of what I hold dearest about Woody Allen’s films.  That said, I perhaps watched this in the wrong mood, a sort of unforgiving mood, because all the brattiness and pseudo-intellectualism (Nietzschean cowboy) and, yes, entitlement washing back and forth, over and out of, and around these characters sort of turned me off.  It’s not only that though I can imagine a world in which these characters exist, it’s not my world.  It’s that, I am socially programmed to rebel against and scoff at that world.  However, Lena Dunham is so very self-aware.  When her protagonist (whom she also plays), Aura, throws her “I’m figuring it out!  You don’t understand me!” fit, knocking magazines off a counter with lazy, Gumby arms while her sister looks on stifling a giggle, is very calculated and self-deprecatory.  So, yes, though I am aware of all this, still, what kept me from liking this movie was just that.  It can’t be helped.  But, perhaps in a few years, Lena Dunham will be done writing about the self-absorption and disappointments and confusion and incompleteness and horrifying sexual encounters that generally comprise our 20’s and move on to more palatable fare.  I believe in her.

  

   

Olive Street Cinema, no. 4 | Of Martians, Pool Boys, Co-eds, & Femme Fatales

John Carter (2012) - I am fully aware that this movie did not receive rave reviews, that this movie, in fact, received reviews far from rave.  However, I'm with Willem Dafoe, voice of Tars Tarka, who, when asked about the bad critiques in an interview, responded with a lusty growl, "Puritans!".  Yes, this is a big budget movie with big CGI landscapes and monsters, but I totally and utterly enjoyed myself.  And I was so surprised!  Because of the bad reviews, sure, but also because I the trailer made this seem like a very different movie, one I normally would categorically be bored to tears with.  But what a joy this was to watch!  What good looking characters!  What an intriguing opening scene--a Western!  A solid sci fi movie, and one that got me excited about reading the books, of which my grandmother owns a few first editions.  Oh yes, you read that right.

Poolboy: Drowning Out the Fury (2011) - Oh, man.  We are B Movie fans--we love camp and exploitation flicks.  And we love us some Kevin Sorbo and Danny Trejo.  But this was a hot hot mess.  So unfunny and unfortunate.  From here on out, I'm sticking to Hercules and Machete.

Boys & Girls (2000) - Among the oft watched high school/college romcoms of my teendom, I returned to Boys & Girls one evening when I had the house to myself.  Rewatching movies in which Freddie Prinze Jr. plays the romantic lead nowadays sort of makes me cringe a bit--he was so earnest and awkward with that aura of barely-contained nerdery!  But, in Boys & Girls, Freddie Prinze Jr. actually does play a nerd.  Somebody finally cast him correctly.  But he is not the reason to watch this movie, nor is Jason Biggs ("Hunter" is supposed to teach the audience about the importance of being oneself in the search for love, but his jokes are just poorly written and most of his scenes are uncomfortable).  No, one should watch this for Claire Forlani.  What a sexpot!  And, fun fact, Claire Forlani's wardrobe in this movie (though this is not illustrated in the movie poster) was one of my very first major fashion inspirations.  So slinky and slouchy and easy, but still crisp and sexy.  I loved it!  Also, there's a fantastic for-no-reason dancing scene in this movie.  I collect those.  Those are, perhaps, why I watch movies.

Kitten With a Whip (1964) - This movie was incomprehensible to Wolfman and me.  I can't tell you how many times we shouted at the screen for the protagonist to "Hit her in the head!" and be done with it.  Such a passive character, and one who only really gets out of his hostage predicament by accident and chance.  I suppose one should watch this as a time capsul, and one should simply soak in and appreciate the sexiness of Ann Margret.  But, Ann Margaret is a sort of terrible actress, and with none of the charisma of some of the other sexkitten leading ladies of her day.   

Olive Street Cinema, no 3 | Of musical vampires, ill-fated campers, and man-eating slugs

Jan 1st: Rockula (1990). After a failed attempt to party like the hip young couple we are, we rang in the New Year with Rockula. I am more than okay with this—not only because New Year’s Eve parties are always super overrated, but because Rockula is a super fun comedy musical with songs and choreography by Toni Basil, excellent wardrobe, and a sort of dweeby/adorable vampire who has a wise-cracking reflection as confidante. Believe it or not, Wolfman chose this movie, not me, based upon the poster image of a spiderweb-decorated Explorer (his first and favorite guitar), which, sadly, was not actually featured in the film at all. But, I think it’s safe to say that both Wolfman and I still enjoyed this. Toni Basil, in particular, stole every scene as a sort of cartoon vampire worrying mother Bette Page. Absolutely delightful.

Jan 1st: Friday the 13th, Part 3 (1982). This may be the only Friday the 13th movie I've ever seen from start to finish. (Actually, as I typed that I suddenly remembered that Wolfman and I saw the remake in the theatre on one of our first dates, but remakes don't count.) As a horror fan, I'm not sure how to explain or defend this, but Jason Voorhees never really sparked my nightmarish imagination the way Michael Myers or Freddy Kruger did. Perhaps the reason is that groups of teenagers who go out into the woods on camping trips and proceed to act like assholes don't elicit as much sympathy from me as poor teenagers hunted in their own suburb or, worse, their very dreams. But, all that aside, not only have I seen Part 3 twice now, but we own it. We bought it on a whim, because it was cheap, but also because it's in 3D, which always sounds more exciting than it actually is. And now that Wolfman's Christmas present, a movie projector, is installed in our living room, we blew the dust off the cover, got out the pork skins (true story), and dorkily pushed our paper 3D glasses up the bridge of our noses, prepared to be blown away, and instead became slightly nauseated and had to start the movie all over again without the 3D option. Other than all this, I can find nothing interesting to say about this particular installment except that the chubby kid who pulls cluelessly cruel pranks, the one nobody likes, kind of looks like Seth Rogen.

Jan. 2nd: Slugs (1988). This would, perhaps, have been a remake of 1977's Squirm if not for the environmental message, one popular in the 80's: toxic waste totally makes monsters. It's never very clear exactly what toxic waste is, or exactly what produces toxic waste except that it's some big corporation and it's freaking evil (see CHUD or any of the Toxic Avenger movies). Slugs is very much a gross little gorefest, and should be approached as such. Unless you want to see some heads exploding, don't watch this. For example: one character, having actually ingested a man-eating slug, lives for the next few scenes on borrowed time, which means Wolfman and I were taking bets on when his imminent and imminently disgusting death would happen, and how (would he projectile blood vomit against the restaurant bathroom mirror, as Wolfman predicted? Would a slug errupt out of his stomach during an important business meeting, as I predicted?) Knowing exactly what this movie was, and enjoying it for that very reason, I have only one complaint, which stems from the fact that while I, of course, don't believe that actual teenagers deserve death by crazed slasher for having sex or smoking weed or being assholes (despite what my above Friday the 13th review might suggest), I'm not particularly keen on willy nilly free-for-alls in respect to creative movie murders. I kind of expect there to be a triumphant, morally sound, badass hero or antihero. I certainly don't want to watch decent people die unnecessarily cruelly, like the chaste, studious teenage girl who rejects the clumsy, chauvinist advances of one of her classmates, only to be attacked by a masked would-be rapist, only to escape his clutches by falling into a gully and being eaten alive by the titular creepy crawlies. What a bummer. And what sort of statement was the writer or director trying to make with this sequence of events (if any)? Ladies, get your heads out of your books and start sleeping with every icky classmate who asks, whether he asks politely or not? Perhaps I'm reading too much into this.

Olive Street Cinema, no. 2 | Of Witch Hunts, Wacky Weed, & Alien Invasion

Season of the Witch (2011): I love Nic Cage. A friend of Wolfman's, during a game of Apples to Apples, once confessed that she finds Nic Cage to be the absolute worst; Nic Cage is to her as Kevin Costner is to me, i.e. an actor whose movies I will not touch with a ten foot pole. But I think Nicolas Cage is capable of amazing things. He absolutely broke my heart in Matchstick Men, and Raising Arizona is among my all-time favorite movies; there is not an actor on this planet who could do H.I. McDonnough like Nic Cage did H.I. McDonnough. Fact. Now, to Season of the Witch. As far as Plague & Witch Hunts go, this was not as good as Black Death which we watched a few months ago (and as much affection as I do have for Nic Cage, Sean Bean slays me in everything I see him in). Black Death was grittier, darker, scarier, and it left an imprint on my brain for days afterwards, its implications were so horrible. But, Season of the Witch is a truly entertaining movie. The makeup effects are squishy and cringe-worthy, the story kept me fairly riveted even while starting a knitting project, and aside from Nic Cage, the audience is granted the ever wry presence of Ron Perlman as his sidekick. Plus, I just happen to really love movies about this time period--so macabre by default. Also, one last note, every time I type "season of the witch", the Vanilla Fudge cover of that song starts roaring through my head, and that is a wonderful thing.

Smiley Face (2007): And again, I'm going to spend the first part of this review/summary discussing the lead actor and how wonderful I find him/her. I really love Anna Faris. I find her excruciatingly funny. I will watch categorically unfunny movies, movies in which the plot and writing are just terrible and cater to the lowest common denominator (House Bunny, Just Friends), because I love Anna Faris--she makes the unfunny funny. And, if you're going to make a movie based entirely around one actor's facial expressions, Anna Faris could not be a more perfect choice. She's wonderful and relateable and joyful and efforvescent and sends me into paroxysms of laughter. Directed by Gregg Araki, who's known for doing trippy, bloody little films like The Doom Generation (which I started watching once, and then had to turn off because it was making my stomach turn, but still intend on finishing one of these days); he likes to visually play with his audience and his character, producing strange, cartoonish little hallucinations, taking us on a journey with poor Jane, she of the accidental consumption of a plate full of pot cupcakes. This is funny, and fun to watch, and chock full of great cameos. Here is a list: John Krasinski, Brian Posehn, Adam Brody (with dreads), Jim Rash, Jayma Mays, Jane Lynch, Rick Hoffman, Carrot Top, and John Cho and Danny Trejo as workers at a sausage factory. The movie lost me in its very last scenes, but was still thoroughly enjoyable.

Attack the Block (2011): FROM THE PRODUCERS OF SHAUN OF THE DEAD. It's printed on the poster and in movie summaries on every website known to man, so I figured I'd put that up front. Fun Fact: I'm not a huge Shaun of the Dead fan. I'm more a Hot Fuzz kind of gal. But, I digress. I really thought in the first fifteen minutes that I was not going to enjoy this movie at all. The kids we're supposed to be routing for, the ones who are going to save their block and, probably, mankind from an invasion of ferocious, neon-toothed, black as pitch, gorilla wolf aliens, are sort of assholes. In the opening scene, they rob one of their neighbors and then push her down in the street. But, then something happens as the movie progresses. These kids, yes, are still assholes, but I kind of forgive them that because they're so stout and bold and fearless--they are boys among boys, in a world that expects them to grow up and get tough really fast. This movie is often sold to people as being Goonies-esque, and it sort of is--it tugs at the heart strings in the same way while being ten times more brutal (spoiler: not all of these boys survive). The trajectory of this movie is such that, like movies like Independence Day, by the end of it, had you been drinking quite a bit, you might want to stand up on your sofa and cheer, or at least fist pump, or, as was our case, turn to the other people in the room while you all collectively say something to the extent of, "Wow, that was really good."

Olive Street Cinema, no. 1 | Of Zombies, Witches, Pumpkin Kings, Vampires, and Lucifer in Space

Oct 23/11: The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)

I'd dug up my old VHS copy of this to watch while we carved pumpkins this year with Bobby and Sierra Dawn. Truth be known, while, yes, I am exactly the sort of woman you'd suspect of falling gaga gooey over this movie and owning at least one hair clip with Jack Skelington's face on it, I am, in fact, not such a fan of this flick. I've never been able to put my finger on exactly why this doesn't get my little fangirl heart lubdubbing. While watching it this year, I suspect that the problem may be that I've always debated whether this is a Halloween movie or a Christmas movie. A) I shouldn't have to debate that at all and B) I think my most recent viewing proves it's a Christmas movie. After that first lovely "This is Halloween" scene, this is, essentially, a Christmas movie; this is a movie about the meaning and spirit of Christmas. And, quite frankly, I'm not so much interested in Christmas, certainly not while carving pumpkins anyways. This is a Christmas movie parading as a Halloween movie, and I am not so keen. Furthermore, I don't think Danny Elfman's music is all that wonderful. True, "This is Halloween," would pop up in my head every time I felt myself getting excited about any aspect of this most wonderful of holidays. But that "What's This?" song when Jack visits Christmas land is, frankly, grating. And the rest of the songs are forgettable. And the love story, all this "You're the Jack to my Sally" Hot Topic branding business? Jack ignores Sally throughout most of the movie. That's not a love story for the ages. I'm much more a "You're the Gomez to my Morticia" type when it comes to gothic loves.

Now, all that being said, watching the making-of, I was blown away. Do you know that every second of this movie contains 24 frames--as in, the puppets had to be moved minutely 24 times for every second, and when you're clocking in at an hour and a half, the work and craftsmanship involved in creating this is mind boggling. I am still a fan of this film stylistically, though not necessarily narratively.

Oct 26/11: Countess Dracula (1971)

A take on the Elizabeth Bathory story starring sultry, divine Ingrid Pitt. Hammer films are always worth watching, so lush and entertaining, with casts as cool as cucumbers.

Oct 27/11: The Return of the Living Dead (1985)

Watched this with Metal Commander, Heather, and Selena K., and spent much time explaining to Selena the difference between the Return of the Living Dead series and Romero's Dead movies. Watching this and then watching Dawn of the Dead, though, these movies could not be more disparate--while Romero relies on social commentary and makeup effects, the Return movies are so gleeful and high energy, with ridiculous animatronic monsters. I think both series have their merits, but as Halloween approaches, the Return movies are more in the spirit of the holiday.

Oct 31/11: The Crimson Cult (1968)

The poster says it all. Boris Karloff and Christopher Lee. Bam! That is all. Oh, and a blue witch wearing an incredible horned headdress. Next year's halloween costume, perhaps.

Oct 31/11: Dark Side of the Moon (1990)

Boring, and all together forgotten, clearly, as it took me several minutes to google image some sort of visual representation that was not Pink Floyd-related. Bryan and Wolfman gave this movie 6 out of 10 stars, I'd give it more like 4 out of 10. First of all, in this posited future world not only do spaceship computers speak in sexy lady voices (like the Start Trek computers), but if you'd like to carry a conversation with the computer, you can visit a room where it's given the form of a sexy lady--a sexy, creepy lady, I should say, and I thought for sure that once El Diablo presented himself as the Big Bad, he'd somehow take advantage of the fact that there's a creepy mannequin robot computer on board, but no, alas for some reason, it was not utilized. I suppose I should give the movie props for trying to pull in the Bermuda Triangle and for putting the devil in space, but mostly this was just a yawn.