#it feels like john carpenter came up with that theme and realized it was so good that he had to play it at every chance he got

[bumpscosity]

Finally watched halloween love you michael myers shoutout to michael myers

[phantomofthepairofdice]

Double Features 2: Splatter, Splicer, Slander, Slasher

Considering the fact that we’re locked down and most folks aren’t going out much, why not settle in on a weekend with double feature. As part of a series of articles, I’ve decided to suggest some titles that would make for an interesting pair. It’s a time commitment like binging a few episodes of a TV show, and hopefully these double features are linked in interesting enough ways that it has a similar sense of cohesion. They also can be watched on separate occasions, but the lesser the distance between them, the more the similarities show. Do it however you want, really. I’m merely a guy on the internet, and that qualifies me for absolutely nothing! Enjoy at your own risk.

This template is back! I wanted to suggest a few more double features, but this time keep them in a specific genre: horror. I love horror movies, and I realized that I hadn’t really given them their due on this here blog, so I wanted to remedy that by showing a lot of love across a lot of different movies. I’ve put together some international movies, some classics, some that are silly, some that are serious, and even a bonus suggestion hidden in one of these blurbs. So without any more ramble in the preamble, here are four new suggested double features.

Note: The pairs are listed in the order I think best serves them being seen.

Hausu & Evil Dead II:

Hausu aka House (not to be confused with 1985 American horror film of the same name) has sort of transcended cult movie status to become a staple of off-center horror-comedy. Directed by recently deceased Nobuhiko Obayashi, the film shows his roots in advertisements with every shot designed for maximum effect, a (still) cutting edge approach in the edit, and a joyous, playful approach to special effects. It’s a gauzy and dreamy romp about a group of schoolgirls who head to the countryside on vacation. While staying at one of their aunts’ house, the supernatural hauntings begin, and heads start to roll (as well as bite people on the butt). It’s the type of movie where the main cast of characters are named Gorgeous, Kung Fu, Melody, Prof, Mac, Sweet, and Fantasy and they each have corresponding character traits. I was lucky enough to catch this at a rep screening at the Museum of Fine Arts a few years ago (further proof that this has gone beyond the cult curio status), and this is absolutely a movie that benefits from having a crowd cheer and laugh along - but it’s fairly easy to find and still has lots of pleasures to be enjoyed on solo watch. I’m pretty much willing to guarantee that if you enjoy it on first watch, you’ll want to share it with others. Now, where does one start when talking about Evil Dead II? Sam Raimi is rightfully as well known for his start in the hair-brained splatter genre fare as he is for his genre-defining Spider-man films. The influence of the Evil Dead movies is nearly unquantifiable, apparent in the work of directors like Edgar Wright, Peter Jackson, Quentin Tarantino, and the Korean New Wave filmmakers like Bong Joon-ho and Park Chan-wook. There’s a reason that the second film of his Evil Dead odyssey is the one that people hold in highest esteem, though. There is an overwhelming gleeful creativity, anything goes, Looney Tunes approach to it that makes the blood geysers, laughing moose heads, and chainsaw hands extend beyond gore and shock into pleasure. It’s been noted over and over by critics and Raimi himself that the Three Stooges are probably the biggest influence on the film, and by golly, it shows. Evil Dead II and Hausu are pure in a way that few other movies can be. Both of these movies are an absolute delight of knowing camp, innovative special effects, and a general attitude of excitement from the filmmakers permeating through every frame. They’re a total blast and, in my mind, stand as the standard-bearers for horror-comedy and haunted house movies.

Total Runtime: 88 minutes + 84 minutes = 172 minutes aka 2 hours and 52 minutes

The Thing (1982) & The Fly (1986):

Feel free to roll your eyes as I explain the plots of two very famous movies. The Thing is John Carpenter’s body horror reimagining of Howard Hawks’ The Thing from Another World and the story that was adapted from, “Who Goes There?” by John W. Campbell Jr. The film is centered around a group of men in an arctic outpost who welcome in a cosmic force of shape-shifting annihilation. What ensues is a terrifically scary, nihilistic, paranoid attempt to find who isn’t who they say they are before everyone is replaced with the alien’s version of them. The film is a masterpiece of tone in no small part due to Dean Cundey’s photography and Ennio Morricone’s uncharacteristically restrained score. The real showstopper here, though, is the creature effects designed by Rob Bottin with an assist from Stan Winston – two titans of their industry. There may not be a more mind-blowing practical effects sequence in all of movies than Norris’ defibrillation – which I won’t dare spoil for anyone who hasn’t seen it. The story is so much about human nature and behaviors, that it’s good news that the cast is all top-notch – anchored by Kurt Russell, Keith David, and Wilford Brimley. While The Thing is shocking and certainly not for anyone opposed to viscera, David Cronenberg’s The Fly is the best example of a movie not to watch while eating. Quite frankly, it’s got some of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen on film. Chris Walas and Stephen Dupuis’ makeup effects are shocking, but the terror is amplified because this builds such a strong foundation of romance in its opening stretch between Jeff Goldblum and Geena Davis in what might be their career-best work. The story is simple: a scientist creates a teleportation device that he tries out himself, but unknowingly does so with a fly in the chamber with him. When he reatomizes on the other end, his DNA has been integrated with the fly. Slowly his body begins to deteriorate, and he transforms into a human-fly hybrid. While this is first and foremost a science-fiction horror film, it’s truly one of the most potent love stories at its center. The tragedy is that the love, like the flesh, is mutated and disintegrated by the hubris of Goldblum’s Seth Brundle. Here are two remakes that – clutch your pearls – outdo the original. They both serve as great examples of what a great artist can bring by reinterpreting the source material to tell their version of that story. The critical respect for Carpenter and Cronenberg is undeniable now, but both of these movies make the case that there are real artists working with allegory and stunning craft in less respected genre fare. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to transpose the thematic weight of the then-new AIDS crisis onto both films, but they both have a hefty anti-authority streak running through them in a time where American Exceptionalism was at an all-time high. If you want to get a real roll going, fire up the ’78 Invasion of the Body Snatchers first to get a triple dose of auteur remakes that reflect the social anxieties of the time and chart from generalized anxiety to individualistic dread to romantic fatalism.

Total Runtime: 109 minutes + 96 minutes = 205 minutes aka 3 hours and 25 minutes

Theatre of Blood & The Abominable Dr. Phibes

That old Klingon proverb that Khan tells Kirk about revenge being a dish best served cold is challenged by these two Vincent Price tales of the macabre. They posit that revenge is best served in extremely convoluted and thematically appropriate predecessors to the Saw franchise. Where Saw trades in shock and extremity, though, these classic horror tales offer an air of panache and self-satisfied literacy. In Theatre of Blood, Price plays a disgraced and thought-dead stage actor who gets revenge on the critics who gave him negative reviews with Shakespeare-themed murder. There’s good fun in seeing how inventive the vengeful killings are (and in some cases how far the writers bend over backwards to explain and make sense of them). It’s a little rumpled and ragged in moments, but Price is, of course, a tremendous pleasure to see in action as he chews through the Shakespeare monologues. Imagine the Queen’s corgis with a chainsaw and you’re on track. Phibes came first and, frankly, is the better of the two. The story is about a musician who seeks to kill the doctors who he believes were responsible for his wife’s death during a botched surgery. The elaborate angle he takes here is to inflict the ten plagues from the Old Testament. I hesitate to use a word that will probably make me come across as an over-eager schmuck, but it really feels best described as phantasmagorical. It’s got this bright, art deco, pop art sensibility to it that’s intoxicating. It also has a terrifically dark sense of drollery - it knows that you can see the strings on the bat as it flies toward the camera. Aesthetically, it feels adjacent to the ’66 Batman show. The music is great and the indelible image of his tinker toy robot band, The Clockwork Wizards, is a personal obsession of mine. Both Theatre of Blood and The Abominable Dr. Phibes feature great supporting turns from Diana Rigg and Joseph Cotton, respectively. Settle in for a devilishly good time and enjoy one of cinema’s greatest vicarious pleasures: getting back at those of criticized or hurt you.

Total Runtime: 104 minutes + 94 minutes = 198 minutes aka 3 hours and 18 minutes

Blood and Black Lace  & The Bird with the Crystal Plumage

The final pairing comes from beyond American borders and, to some, beyond the borders of good taste. Mario Bava and Dario Argento are likely the two biggest names in Italian horror, and that’s for very good reason. Bava, who started as a cinematographer, has made loads of movies (even the film which gave Ozzy Osbourne and crew the name their band name) that have tremendous visuals and terrific sense of mood. Argento, probably most famous now for Suspiria, emerged onto the Italian film scene a handful of years later and picked up that baton from Bava to crystallize the dreamy logic puzzles cloaked in hyper-saturated colors. These two films are regarded as quintessential in the giallo genre – named for the yellow covers of the pulp crime fictions that inspired them. As someone who loves the flair that can be applied to make a slasher film stand out amongst their formulaic brethren, I found that the giallo made for a smooth transition into international horror. Blood and Black Lace is a murder mystery that’s as tawdry and titillating as its title suggests. Set in an insular world of a fashion house in Rome, models are being murdered. The plot feels like a necessity in order to create a delivery system for the stunning set pieces that revolve around a secret diary. Bava puts sex right next to violence and cranks up the saturation to create something thrillingly lurid. Six years later, Argento made his first film which has often been credited for popularizing the giallo genre and already is playing around with some of his pet themes like voyeurism and reinterpretation. Built around an early set piece (that stacks up as one of the best in thrillers) in which a man is trapped but witnesses a murder, the film sees said man trying to find the piece of evidence that will make the traumatic killing make sense. Like Bava, it blends sex and violence with tons of flair, including a score by the aforementioned Ennio Morricone. The film is absolutely on a continuum between Hitchcock and De Palma. If you’re looking for a pair of exciting horror/thrillers, or even an entry point to foreign genre cinema, this is an accessible and enjoyable place to start.

88 minutes + 96 minutes = 184 minutes aka 3 hours and 4 minutes

Well, there you have it. Eight movies, and hours of entertainment curated by some guy with no real qualifications. If you’re interested in some more suggestions (in horror and other genres), stay tuned for the next entry in this Double Features series. And if you’re looking for a way to watch these movies, I highly recommend the app/website JustWatch where you can search a title and see where it’s available for streaming or rental. Happy viewing.

Thanks for reading.

[queenbirbs]

the open door | Ethan x MC

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC

Warnings: swearing, some brief mentions of corpses and body horror, spooks and possible spectres 

Word count: 7.7k

Premise: Bryce invites Sloane, Sienna, and Aurora on a tour of a haunted estate on the night before Halloween. What could go wrong?  

Notes: I’m super bummed that we didn’t get a Halloween-themed chapter for this book, especially since it’s my favorite holiday. Takes place post chapter 11, though I’ve played with the timeline a bit to include Halloween. Re-post because it fell out of the tag, as posts seem to want to do as of late. 

Taglist: @maurine07 @caseyvalentineramsey

 ------

“You are aware there’s no such thing as witches, right?” 

“Well, yeah,” Bryce scoffs. “Maybe. Besides, I said she was rumored to be a witch. That’s a whole different thing.”

“Oh, right, of course it is.” In the backseat, Aurora rolls her eyes. “Just tell that to all the people killed during the Salem witch trials due to mass hysteria.”

“Hey, now -- it’s not like she was killed for being a witch.”

“Right. She pulled a classic Rose for Emily,” Sloane mutters while Sienna makes a gagging noise.

“What?” Bryce asks. 

“It’s a short story by Faulkner.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief pause. Sloane wonders if he even knows who that is. Then: “Is he the dude that had a hard-on for the Civil War?”

“Yeah,” Aurora snorts. “Basically.” 

“Yeah, never read any of his stuff. I think I used SparkNotes for one of his books in undergrad.”

“Same,” Sloane admits, to which Bryce shoots her a look of faux-surprise. “Yeah, yeah, we all had to skate by sometimes.” 

“Well, well, well,” he crows. “Looks like the ‘next generation of medicine’ isn’t so high and mighty after all, huh?” 

“Wait, how did you--”

“Ramsey was four drinks deep at Donahue’s the other day, and one of the interns came up and bothered him about a possible spot on the team. Which meant we all overheard the twenty-minute spiel about what a great doctor you are.” He snickers as she puts a hand over her face and groans. “Yeah, it was real sweet. Real obvious, but sweet.”

She’s saved by the GPS on her phone, cutting through the music playing over the car speakers; Bryce takes the next exit as instructed. The off-ramp spits them out onto a two-lane county road.  Posted across from the solitary stop sign, the blue services sign offers nothing but blank, white squares. 

“There’s a bathroom, right?” Sienna asks. “Because I’m not seeing a gas station.”

“It’s a house, you guys,” Bryce scoffs, “not a cave.” 

“A haunted house,” she clarifies. 

“Well, I mean, I don’t think the toilets are haunted.”

For several miles, there’s nothing but sweeping woodlands and the occasional passing car. Long squiggles of tar decorate the asphalt, snaking across the empty, leaf-strewn road. The setting sun casts a golden hue over everything, spears of light cutting through the tree trunks. It would be a nice, evening drive if it weren’t for where they were headed. 

Forty minutes north of Boston lies the small, nondescript town of Angler. Even under the cover of dusk, Sloane can tell that it’s one of those towns. Pretty Tudors line the main street, their porches decorated with smiling scarecrows sitting on bales of hay; banners along the telephone poles advertise the annual apple festival. The bank and the post office and the dry cleaners are all tucked together in the refurbished general store. It’s the stereotypical, pleasant, all-American town. Which means that it’s the perfect place to hide a dark stain of history. 

Why Bryce signed up for such a thing and how he won the tickets is beyond her. When he asked them all to join him for a haunted house, Sloane expected the typical theme: some dingy warehouse refurbished enough to meet modern building codes, full of tight mazes and masked actors with chainsaws.

“Nah, guys, this is the real deal,” he gloated over lunch the previous afternoon. “Back in the 1800s, this woman -- uhh Margaret, or Maggie, I think, yeah Maggie Angler -- she was one of the Boston Brahmins, owned this estate out in the country, blah blah blah. No one knows a whole lot about her because she was a little weird and she kept to herself. At some point, this dude woos her and they get married. But then, a few years later, he dies. Neighbors drop by to offer casseroles or whatever, but she won’t answer the door, so they give up and leave her alone. A few months go by, and suddenly this dude from town goes missing. Then a year, and another goes missing. This continues for several years and--” 

“So, what, she’s some kind of black widow?” Elijah asked. 

“No, this isn’t one of those Marvel--” Bryce’s brow furrowed and then lifted, realization striking his handsome face. “--oh, heh, yeah, sorry. But yeah, sort of. It wasn’t until word got around that the latest dude was seen talking to Maggie at the store that people got suspicious of her. So, they gather up some people and storm the house, where they find a Satanic Bible and other spooky shit. But that’s not the only thing they find.”

They all glance around at each other, waiting to see who will encourage Bryce to break his silence and finish the damn story. “They also find... the missing dudes.”

“What, buried in the backyard?” Sloane asked, and frowned when Bryce shook his head. 

“No, not buried. She killed them and then kept them in the house. Supposedly, they were posed at the table or sitting on the couch, rotting away.”

 Sienna made a show of pushing her plate away. “That’s disgusting.”

“I know there’s a group of people in Indonesia that keep their dead relatives at home,” Aurora said, “but they’re preserved and cared for. This doesn’t sound like that.”

“Nope.” Elijah shook his head. “Definitely not the same thing.”

“What happened to the woman?” Sloane asked.

“No idea -- get this: they never found her.” Bryce lifted his eyebrows for dramatic effect. “But the story goes that she still haunts the place, searching for her lost lovers, and maybe… trying to get some new ones.”  

Jackie, who had been busy scrolling away on her phone through the tale, snorted into her salad. 

“And you want us to come with you to some evil witch’s house on the night before Halloween to go ghost hunting? I may not believe in any of this shit, but no fucking way.” 

“Yeah,” Elijah sighed, cringing at the crestfallen look on Bryce’s face. “Sorry dude, but I’ll pass. My idea of fun is a John Carpenter movie marathon, not a tour around Jane the Ripper’s house.” 

“Okay, understood.” With that, Bryce looked to the remaining three and turned on the charm, draping his arm across Sloane’s shoulders. “C’mon, ladies, whaddaya say? Hard to pass up the prospect of touring a bona fide haunted mansion with one of the most handsome men you know -- second only to Elijah here.”  

Tapping at her chin, Sienna nodded and grinned. “Sounds fun. I like scary things.” 

Aurora, on the other hand, shot him a skeptical look. “Are you going to shout at the air and act like you’re possessed, like I’ve seen that one ghost hunter do on TV? The one with the spiky hair?” she demanded to know. 

“Uhhh no to all of those things, but especially to the spiky hair.”  

“Okay, then,” she shrugged, “I’ll go.” 

Every eye at the table turned to Sloane; Bryce squeezed her shoulder in encouragement. 

“Alright,” she agreed. “It’d be fun to get spooked, I guess. I’m down.”

Which is how she comes to be in the passenger seat of Bryce’s car, leaning forward onto the dashboard as they take the final turn onto a hidden lane. A thick tunnel of trees swallows them up as they drive deeper into the woods. After several miles, there’s a break in the pines, and then: sprawled atop a hill, looming above them, is the house. Even if she hadn’t heard the backstory, Sloane feels like the place would still give her the creeps. With its filmy lace curtains and its tall windows glowing yellow in the approaching darkness, the house looks like it’s been pulled from an Edward Hopper painting. Worn pavers lead from the semi-circular driveway and up to the front porch. Framing either side of the steps, thin, brittle blades of tufted hairgrass shift in the wind. Two people turn from the front door and raise a hand in greeting.

Bryce kills the engine and twists around in his seat to grin at his compatriots. 

“You guys ready to get scaaaared?”

Sienna wraps her hands around Sloane’s seat and leans forward, her eyes wide as she stares out the windshield. 

“Why does it look like The Amityville Horror house?” 

“Is this a bad time to mention that the Blair Witch Project’s producers used this place as inspiration?”

“Yeah,” she hisses, “definitely a bad time.”

Shouldering open her door, Sloane lets in the cool October air in an attempt to corral their attention. It works; the rest of them pile out of the car with her and approach the couple. 

As the current owners of the property, Jack and Nancy Bell guide them through the main floor of the house, pointing out spots of reported activity. The interior is lovely -- one of those Sloane would see in a Pictagram post of a wedding venue, with all those carved banisters and original wainscoting. Her brother, a successful carpenter in the Twin Cities, would have a field day in here. Most of the furniture is original to the house, as well, and in surprisingly good condition.  

The only aspect setting the house apart from any other on the historical registry are the props. In the front hall, a bulletin board hosts an array of newspaper clippings. The earlier articles blame a serial killer, dubbed the ‘Butcher of Angler,’ for the mens’ disappearances. Then, starting on October 28th, 1892, the headlines change to the ‘Wicked Witch of Winthrope County.’ In the drawing room sits an Ouija board, surrounded by melted candles. A cauldron and a Satanic Bible share space on the kitchen counter; corked bottles of what look like cooking spices and herbs clutter the open cabinets. Mannequins lounge at the dining table or on the sofa, dressed in dusty clothes, their jaws slack, their painted eyes still and dull. Beside them, framed in cheap plastic, are the grainy photographs of the corpses as they were found. To Sloane, it all feels hokey, like a regular haunted house with the strobe lights turned off. 

There’s something else, though, something underneath the fine layer of dust and the creaking floorboards and the shrouded furniture. It skitters across her neck and down her back, making her shiver, which she discounts as a wayward draft in the old house. 

It’s the distinct feeling of being watched.  

“Aside from the big house, there’s a carriage house to the left there. We rent it out in the summer and fall for overnight stays.” Jack gestures to the east as they step out onto the back veranda, where, just beyond the slope of lawn, a smaller house sits with a solitary porch light glowing. “And back down the path there will lead you to the lake. When we bought the place, the deed stated that there was a cabin out near the state park line, but we’ve never been able to find evidence of it.”

“Maggie’s been seen down by the lake, too,” Nancy chimes in. “People say they see her there, inside the boathouse, or walking along the shore with her head down, as if she’s searching for something.” 

“We’ve got lanterns here if you want to use them as you go about the grounds, though you’re welcome to use your flashlights.” Jack nudges a neat row of antique lanterns with his sneaker. “For the optimal experience, though, we recommend turning off all the inside lights and using secondary light sources instead.” He chuckles when Sienna makes a throaty noise of dissent. 

The couple leads them back through the house and into the front hall to finish the tour. While Jack goes over the various rules, Nancy motions for Sloane to follow her out onto the front porch. 

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of your friends,” she starts off in a whisper, “but I wanted to talk to you about our son, Ben.”

For a fleeting moment, Sloane thinks that she’s going to get questioned about his bowel movements or a mysterious rash, that Bryce must have told them he was bringing along his doctor friends. “When he was seven, he nearly--” Nancy cuts herself off, pressing a hand to her heart, “--he drowned when we were at the beach in Florida. I did CPR until the EMTs got there, and they were able to resuscitate him, thank God.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane murmurs, “that must’ve been awful.”

“It was. But I’m -- the reason I’m telling you all this is because, after that, Ben seems to be more… open. More open than the rest of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane says again, though this time out of confusion, “but I don’t--”

With a huff, Nancy shakes her head and waves her hands. “No, no, I apologize. I must sound crazy. I just wanted to warn you that, due to what happened to you, you might see things or experience things that your friends can’t. That’s all, dear.” 

Sloane opens her mouth to question her further, but they’re interrupted by the rest of the gang filing out beside them. “We’ll be back at one a.m. to lock up behind you,” Nancy says as she follows her husband down to their car. 

With a cheery honk, the little Subaru rumbles down the winding driveway and disappears. The sun having set during the tour, the landscape before them is now draped with the heavy blanket of night. The moon peeks at them from just above the treetops, as if still deciding on whether or not to come out. The only lights are far-off, unmoving: porch lights of the houses back in town; cell towers with their red stars blinking lazily against the dark. A cold wind moves through the trees, rustling the leaves and scattering them across the front walk, the dried edges hissing along the brick. 

“Can you believe he said no alcohol?” Bryce breaks the silence with a whine. “I read about this fun séance thing you do with tequila shots and--” 

“No séances!” Sienna declares. “And definitely no tequila!” 

“Can we argue about this where it’s warmer?” Aurora suggests and steps back into the house. 

As she and Sienna wander off into the drawing room, Sloane wraps a hand around Bryce’s arm and pulls him back. 

“Did you tell her about me?”

His nose scrunches up to meet his furrowed brows. “Tell who about what?” 

“The-- Nancy, did you tell her about what happened to me? With… with the senator, and…” it’s embarrassing how much of a struggle it is to get the words out, even now, even after three weeks and two therapy appointments. 

His face falls from confusion to concern. Bryce reaches up and lays his hand over her own. 

“Slo, I didn’t tell them, I swear. I would never,” he promises. “Did she say something to you?”      

She loosens her hold, frustrated at herself that she even considered he would do such a thing. He’s one of her best friends, the man who handed over the reins to a cutting-edge surgery just to be by her side. 

“Yeah, no, listen: it’s fine,” she stumbles through a paltry reassurance. “She was probably trying to scare me, that’s all.” 

He gives her a quick once-over, lips twisting into a frown as he debates on whether or not to push. She bites back a breath of relief when he relents, his hand releasing hers.

“Okay,” he says, and nudges her into the house ahead of him. “C’mon. Between the two of us, I think we can convince them to turn off the lights.”

------

Although he puts up a good fight, Bryce loses on the no-lights front. 

Which is just as well, because by the time they reach the second floor, Sloane is glad for the light from the antique lamps. To be fair, nothing actually happens: no spooks, no spectres, and no signs from the former resident. Nothing she can point to with any amount of certainty. Whatever it is hovers out of reach, just on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t seem to give it a name. Maybe it lies -- like any good, scary movie -- in the setting. For as grand as the house is, time and dereliction have taken its fine features hostage. Thick, gray dust coats the wooden spindles and curled handrails of the antique staircase. The corridors are tight, the shadows gathering in the space where the lights can’t seem to reach. Small curls of peeling wallpaper look like fingers reaching out from the wall, backlit by the sconces. The cloying scent of wood rot and mold fills the air, like a pile of papers left to curl and yellow with age. The rooms are small, cluttered with furniture and trinkets and artwork. 

Sloane stares at such a portrait in the master bedroom, where a couple stares down at her from above the fireplace. The man sits in a chair, the woman standing beside him with her hand on his shoulder. It would be any other family portrait, if it weren’t for the unsettling glaze over the man’s sunken eyes. 

“Bryce, please don’t-- aaaand he’s sitting on the bed.” 

“You do know that’s where they found her husband, right?” Sienna points out. “That’s why there’s a mannequin on it. And a picture of his dead body on the nightstand.”

“Maybe Maggie will see what a catch I am if I’m laid out for her. I’ve never met a woman over the age of sixty who could resist my charms.” Bryce waggles his eyebrows as he bounces once, then twice on the mattress before stretching out. “What’s up, bro?” he asks the mannequin beside him before doing a double-take. “Hey, it’s Annie!”

He snatches off the ugly wig and fake beard, and lo and behold, an old CPR dummy gapes up at them all. Sloane snorts and shakes her head. 

“Looks like the years haven’t been kind to her.”   

“Probably saddled with student loans just like the rest of us,” Aurora mutters as she wanders over to inspect the photograph. “Had to get a second job here.”

“Hey, that was a joke!” Bryce commends. “And a pretty good one at that.”

“I do jokes.”

“You so do not.” 

A muffled bang from somewhere in the house stops their banter. Everyone glances at each other, verifying that everyone in their group is indeed in the room. 

“What was that?” Sienna whispers. 

“Probably the pipes,” Aurora says. “It is an old house.” 

As if on cue, the lights flicker once, then switch off, sinking them into complete darkness. There’s a flurry of noise as everyone digs out their phones; the bedroom seems even creepier, now, under the white glow of their flashlights.  

“What do we do?” Sienna hisses, scurrying from the window to latch onto Aurora.  

“We could always search for the breaker,” she suggests. 

“Which would be where?”

“In the basement, most likely.”

“Um, no,” Sienna balks. “Hell no.”  

“Are you guys serious right now?” Bryce hops down from the bed and pokes his head out the open doorway. “This is so cool! Who wants to go downstairs with me and grab the Ouija board?”

“If you bring that thing near me, I will break it in half.”

He grimaces at Sienna’s threat. 

“You’re not really supposed to do that with them. It’ll keep the door open for the spirits to come in.”

“It’s a toy made by Hasbro,” Aurora scoffs. “It’s not going to ‘let in’ anything. And the planchette doesn’t actually move on its own. That’s due to the ideomotor effect.”

Moving over to the window, Sloane presses her temple against the pane’s edge and squints. Just past the eastern wing, she spots a faint halo of yellow light on the lawn. 

“Hey,” she raises her voice over their bickering. “It looks like the carriage house still has power.” 

“Great!” Sienna squeaks and pulls Aurora with her towards the door. “Let’s check it out. I… love carriage houses.” 

They push past Bryce and start back down the hall. Turning from the doorway, a coy smile spreads across his face, a single eyebrow lifting at his wordless request. 

“Oh, no.” Sloane shakes her head as she crosses the room. “I’m not staying up here so you can play Twenty Questions with a ghost.”

She ignores his good-natured grumbling and leads him to the staircase, where Aurora and Sienna are waiting on the landing. Aimed at the ground, their flashlights slice at the hand-carved walls; dustmotes dance in the twin beams, kicked up by their feet. The air feels heavier, mustier here, too, like breathing through wet wool. They tromp down the stairs and across the first floor to the kitchen. Being at the back of the group, Sloane can’t help but glance back now and again at the shadowed recesses, searching for the source of her uneasiness. That she finds nothing amiss doesn’t seem to curb her anxiety. 

The sensation wanes when she closes the door behind them, sealing up the house once more. 

“How is it warmer outside than in there?” Sienna asks as they start cutting across the lawn for the carriage house.  

Bryce zips up his coat and shrugs. “I’ve heard that ghosts tend to suck the energy out of a room, creating cold spots when they mani--”

“Please stop talking,” she begs. “At least until we’re somewhere with electricity that actually works.” 

“Aw, come on, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve seen enough scary movies in your life to know that we’re safe if we travel together. Besides, everyone knows the funny guy goes first.”  

“I think that honor belongs to people of color, now, sorry.” Aurora chuckles when he spins around to wince at her. 

“Yeah, fair point.” 

Coated in fallen leaves, the ground crunches loud underneath their shoes, blocking out the night sounds as the four of them approach the smaller house. “But for real, I don’t think we have much to worry about from Maggie here. I mean, almost all ghost stories are about little white girls from Victorian times named Sally or Sarah or Kate.”

“That’s because of the spiritualism boom in the late nineteenth century,” Aurora answers.

Bryce sighs and quickly changes the subject, uninterested in a history lesson. 

Converted into a proper guest house sometime after the turn of the twentieth century, the carriage house lacks the severe decay of the main house. Though not as grand, the wallpaper here is intact, the dust not as heavy. It might just be the comforts of amenities such as central heating and electricity, but the inside of the house feels much more benign. As they complete a loop around the building, though, Sloane realizes that the feeling of being watched still remains, growing stronger when she passes or glances out one of the windows. With the glare of the lights, though, it’s hard to see much of anything past the panes. None of the others seem to be frightened -- or if they do, they keep quiet. The same can’t be said when Sienna flips the light on in the parlor.  

Toddler-size dolls lean against the walls, their porcelain hands cupped around their faces. Each wears a pretty, pastel dress trimmed in white lace, their hair falling down their backs in long, springy ringlets of dark brown, cherry red, and honey gold. Bryce makes a noise of disgust when he spins one around, its face blank: no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Time-out dolls, Sloane tells them, remembering her grandmother’s friend who owned several back in the early nineties -- though hers were all dressed as clowns. 

“People actually rent this place out? They pay money to stay here?” Sienna shudders. “I’d rather sleep in the other house, even with all the cobwebs and mannequins.”

“And the ghosts,” Bryce adds. 

“Ghosts don’t exist,” Aurora says. 

“Okay, Scully, that’s enough out of you.”

------

As the clock ticks closer to ten, Bryce votes to go check out the lake. Aurora and Sienna, however, vote to stay in the warm, well-lit kitchen. The plan is decided to split up and then meet back at the main house in time for midnight. 

“You know,” Bryce explains as he and Sloane make their way across the lawn, “because it’s the witching hour.”

“I thought it was three a.m.” 

“It is if you’re taking into account REM cycles and all that, but I’m not. All the legends I’ve read say…” he trails off, frowning as he jogs up the main house’s back steps. “Hey, you shut the door when we left, right?”

Her phone’s flashlight sweeps up the French doors; one of them is ajar, standing open several inches. She reaches for the handle and shuts it, listening for the snick of the latch.  

“I guess I didn’t pull it closed enough.”   

“Or,” he taunts as he grabs two of the lanterns from the porch, “something else opened it.” Ignoring her scoff, he pockets his phone and hands one of the lanterns to her. “These are nice. Do you think they’re original?”

“Bryce, they bought these from a Cracker Barrel. And besides, they’re battery-powered.” 

“Oh.” 

The back of the estate has been left to run wild. Overgrown swath rolls along the ground like dunes, snagging dead leaves between the dry blades. Thickets of barren shrubs creep out from the distant tree line. The path to the lake is marked by an old fence post, tied with a tattered ribbon. They make their way across the wide expanse of lawn, the trees ahead towering higher and higher the closer they get to the forest. Sloane can’t help but check over her shoulder. The house is just as they left it, though the moonlight is too weak to see if the door is still closed. 

Gravel crunches under their feet as they step onto the trail. The quiet night is broken by a ding from her phone. 

How goes the ghost hunting? 

She hooks the lantern in the crook of her arm and taps out her reply: Fun so far, lights went off by themselves. Very spooky 10/10

Ethan: What do fractions have to do with what you’re doing?

Sloane: Nvm 

Ethan: This isn’t 2002. You do have a full keyboard under your fingertips. 

Sloane: so?

Ethan: So there’s no excuse for using T9 acronyms.       

Sloane: Never thought I’d see the day you reprimand me for texting 

Ethan: I’ll spare you the lecture and let you get back to your witch hunt. Text me when you get home, please, so I know you returned safely. 

She hits send on the next message. Several seconds later, a red bubble appears beside her will do!, informing her that it refused to send. A quick glance at the top of the screen shows the one measly bar of service her phone is clinging onto. With a sigh, she tucks it away.   

“How’s Dr. Ramsey?” Bryce asks.

“Preparing a TEDtalk on prehistoric cell phone etiquette.” 

His nose scrunches up. “What?”

“Nothing,” she chuckles, exhaling through her mouth just to see her foggy breath. 

The light from the lanterns casts an eerie, yellow glow across the tree trunks and underbrush. Creaks and knocks echo up out of the dark -- branches smacking against each other as a cold wind sweeps through the area. The last vestiges of October skitter along the ground; the leaves almost sound like footsteps, dragging across the dirt behind them. The trail tightens as it winds down a small embankment and into a hollow. Their pace seems to pick up, though neither of them mention it. Sloane burrows into her scarf at the sudden dip in temperature.   

“How’s Keiki?” she asks, more so out of need to make conversation than actual curiosity.  

“Probably eating her way into a food coma with the pizza money I left for her, and beating all my high scores on Need for Speed.” He’s grinning as he says it, though, which Sloane finds encouraging. “I invited her to go with us, but she said no.” 

She doesn’t miss the crestfallen expression that crosses his face for a moment. 

“Trust me when I say this, because I speak from the experience of having a younger sibling, but she didn’t say no because she doesn’t like you or anything. It’s because she thinks you and your friends are dorks.” 

He sputters at the insult. “I’m not a dork!”

“You so totally are.”  

“Am not.” 

“Are too!” she argues. “Ethan thinks I’m bad, but you -- you come in on your days off and you like it.”

“That’s called dedication to the craft.” 

“That’s called being a dork.” 

What little she can see of the path ahead is more winding turns, more endless seas of bark and brushwood. But just when she thinks that they’ll never reach the end, that they’ll wind up stumbling upon Elly Kedward’s house -- there’s a small dot of light and then a break in the trees, where the path spits them out onto a rocky shore. The lake glints under their lanterns, the pearlescent gleam of the moon dancing on its surface. 

“Oh, hey, that was nice of them.”

Sloane’s gaze tracks along the shore and over to where he’s gestured. A solitary lantern sits in front of an old boathouse, illuminating the weathered cedar shake.  

“Too bad they can’t install lights along the path,” she mutters as they make their way to the structure. 

“What part of ‘bona fide haunted mansion’ did you not understand? This is the thrill of it!” 

Bryce shoulders open the door to a dim room with a half-sunken rowboat in the center. 

“Thrilling,” she drones, side-stepping his attempt to whack her arm. “Right.” 

They poke through the dirty raincoats and rusted tackle boxes. The wooden planks under their feet jostle and flex. Everything smells of wet and mold, the walls slick with grime. “I can think of several better places to haunt.” 

Bryce hums his agreement as he prods at a stack of old hunting magazines, the pages sealed together. Sloane steps over to look down at the boat, where minnows dart underneath the oars to escape her light. 

“Watch where you step,” she tells him as she crosses to the starboard side. “Some of these boards are really falling apa--”

The rest is lost to her shriek as the floor underneath her snaps. Her foot goes through the wood. She drops the lantern and scrambles to stay upright. The soggy planks slip from her grasp as she falls backwards, and then: water, the icy rush of it closing over her head. 

She fights back a gasp at the sudden cold. With her knee trapped in the joists, she can’t get her feet under her to kick to the surface. Her hands sweep out, flailing desperately. Something hard slams against her neck. She twists at the waist; the sunken lantern illuminates the long shadow of the boat. She digs her fingers into the wood. The cold saps at what strength she has, her muscles refusing to work as she tries to push herself out of the water. Her lungs ache; her heartbeat thuds inside her skull. Down in the murky depths below, a long shadow reaches towards her. Fingers, then hands seize her waist; her skin hits the cold air. Sloane blinks away the muddy haze that coats her eyes and sucks in a lungful of blessed oxygen. 

“Sloane!” Bryce shouts, as if he was expecting to pull out someone else. He ropes an arm around her back and helps her up out of the water. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of--” the rest of his words are lost to an undignified oof as Sloane wraps her arms around his neck. 

“Thanks.”

His hands come up to rest along her back, gently rubbing there to warm her frozen skin.

“I would say don’t mention it, but please do. The notoriety of me saving your life needs to make its way back to the hospital, so Rahul will finally go on a date with me.” 

She fights the urge to roll her eyes. 

“You would be concerned about getting a leg over while mine is still stuck.”

“Oh, whoops. Sorry, here, I’ll...” Sitting back on his heels, he steadies her against him and helps her shimmy out of the hole she’s made. Despite how saturated the planks are, her jeans are torn along her knee, where blood wells across several scratches. “Ouch,” he hisses. 

“Nothing a few bandages and a tetanus shot won’t fix,” she assures. Wobbling as she stands, Sloane limps over to the storage chest in the corner. The blanket she finds is tattered and smells of mold, but it’s better than braving the night’s chill in just her soaked sweater. “Alright, I want out of this place like yesterday.”

Bryce picks up his lantern and nods, following her out onto the shore and back onto the path. 

------

“And, I don’t know, he’s also distant with me sometimes, ya know? He’s hot, then he’s cold. He’ll flirt with me and agree to a date, but then he bails at the last second.”

“I get you.”

“That’s why I’m coming to you, oh wise one,” Bryce says with a grin. “Teach me your ways of dealing with difficult guys.”

Sloane laughs, the sound echoing through the quiet forest. Tucking the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she shakes her head. 

“Trust me, if I knew how to, I wouldn’t have such problems with my own.”

The cell phone in her pocket burns at the reminder of Ethan -- not that she could contact him if she wanted, given that the freezing water had zapped the last of its battery. 

“Yeah, but you could at least give me some pointers on how to wear him down.”

“Oh, my god, Bryce--”

“Okay, okay, not… ‘wear him down’... more, like, encouraging than that, I guess....” he trails off with a shrug. 

Humming as she thinks over her plan of attack, Sloane slows her pace to drop behind Bryce to skirt around a fallen tree -- until she can see it no more. “Fuck!” Bryce curses from in front of her, rattling the lantern as if abuse will bring it back to life. “Batteries must be dead. Let me…” There’s a rustling of clothes, a brief, hopeful inhale, then: “Fuck. Phone’s dead too. Must be the cold or something.” 

Sloane closes her eyes and opens them again, hoping that they will have miraculously adjusted to the dark -- but no such luck. With what little moonlight seeps through the canopy and the dusting of fog that’s rolled in, it’s hard to see farther than a few feet ahead. It will make this slow-going trek of theirs even slower. She scans the woods surrounding them and stops when she sees a pinprick of light back down the trail.

“I have an idea,” she says, “but you’re not going to like it.”

He does not, in fact, like her idea. But even he can’t argue against it. Besides, they’d only made it about a half-mile up the path, and the boathouse wasn’t that far back. 

Which is how Sloane comes to be sitting on the log, trying her best to ignore the darkness pressing in on her from all sides. If Aurora were here, she would be explaining that being afraid of the dark is just a concept carried over from early hominid days. Then again, if Aurora were here, she wouldn’t have had to send Bryce back for the other lantern, and they’d be back at the house by now. Sloane knows she should keep moving to stay warm, but she’s cold and wet and her knee is throbbing something awful. 

She’s uncertain of how much time passes before that silly bundle of nerves in her stomach morphs into the proper weight of worry. Bryce should be back by now. She knows he made it to the boathouse because the light through the trees is gone now. Her eyes have since adjusted to the night, which means it’s been at least thirty minutes. Maybe that lantern died, too, she reasons. Sloane listens for his familiar cursing, or his footsteps on the path -- but there’s nothing. The nighttime noises of the forest are gone: no animals, no birds, no wind. The stillness is nothing short of eerie, especially when she feels that now-familiar sensation of being watched.   

“Bryce?” she chances. 

From out of the black, she can hear someone walking down the path.  

“Bryce!” she shouts, struggling to her feet. “Sienna? Aurora? Is that you?” 

Whoever it is doesn’t respond. She starts down the trail towards them, cursing when she nearly trips over a rock. “Seriously, guys, I’m not in the mood--”

An awful sound echoes out of the dark, like a high-pitched whistle played over radio static. 

She freezes, pebbles and twigs skidding across the dirt at her sudden halt. Every hair on her body stands on-end, her muscles locked as adrenaline races through her. Sloane swallows and clenches her blanket tighter.  

The high-low tone of the whistle sounds again. Whatever’s out there is just beyond the reach of her vision. Sloane wheels around, her gaze darting across the shadows, as if she’ll be able to even see-- a light. It’s several hundred feet out in the forest, back in the direction of the house. It’s too far away to make out who’s holding it. It has to be Bryce, though -- playing a prank on her, as if she’d find this sort of thing funny in the state she’s in. 

She bites back a curse and hurries after him as best she can, keeping low to the ground in an effort to hide from whatever animal is out here with them. The trail becomes rougher, more overgrown as she trudges through the leaves and shoves away sticker bushes. Forced to waste precious time watching where she’s going, she glances up only to keep track of the light that grows closer every second. 

The whistle comes again -- louder, closer now. Whatever it is, it’s still following her. Sloane pushes through a thicket and stumbles into a clearing. Tucked between a small grove of pines in the center is a cabin. With the caved-in roof, sagging porch, and front steps that form nothing more than a woodpile, it’s obvious the place has long stood abandoned. Sitting on the porch and casting a glow into the open doorway is a lantern -- the same make as the others. Approaching the steps, she slowly leans up and snatches the lantern from the porch.  

“No fucking way,” she mutters to herself. “I don’t care if it is a bobcat out here, I’m not hiding in the Evil-Dead-looking-ass cabin.” 

The dark silhouettes of the trees rustle under the cold wind that blows through the glade. Carried with it is a different sound: voices, all slurred together, but forming one syllable. She steps away from the cabin and back towards the forest, straining to make it out. Her name, she realizes with relief. They’re calling her name.        

She sucks in a breath to yell back when movement catches her eye. Something dark curls away from the tree line, only to dart into the tall grass when she swings the lantern in its direction. Sloane squints at the underbrush it disappeared into, waiting for it to appear again. For a few, blessed moments, she thinks it’s run off, that it’s finally given up.   

Until a black shadow crawls out of the underbrush towards her, shrieking, braying like an animal in pain. It’s an ear-splitting cry, echoing across the clearing. Sloane tightens her grip on the lantern and bolts. Ducking back into the trees, she heads in a single direction, knowing that she’ll either hit the lake or the house -- of, if she runs far enough, the town. 

Shoving through low-hanging branches, she glances over her shoulder to see the shadow chasing her, peeling itself out of the shadows as it moves between the trees, somehow darker than the black surrounding them. Her foot hits a patch of wet leaves and she slips, skidding down the hillside and tumbling out onto a stretch of asphalt. She grits her teeth against the pain in her leg and crawls forward into the middle of the road. With no time for hesitating, she pushes to her feet and runs, hoping she’s picked the right direction. 

It wails again, in the trees to her left, scurrying across the hillside after her.   

“Fuck off!” she screams.

Another noise comes roaring out of the dark, drowning out her cry. Lights -- searing, blinding -- swing around the curve. Brakes squeal as the car swerves, narrowly missing her; glass shatters as Sloane staggers to the roadside, her lantern cracking as it hits the pavement and rolls off into the grass. The guard rail is like ice beneath her palm where she clutches it, using it to stay upright as her heart threatens to vacate her body through her throat. The hillside is drenched in red from the car’s tail lights. 

“Sloane!” 

Ethan -- it’s him, his car, he’s here, but he should be in Boston, shouldn’t he? He was when he texted her and that was only an hour ago so why is he here and how did he-- all of her panicked thoughts cease when he folds her into his arms and hugs her tight. The night around them is still, save for the purr of the engine and the soft dinging of the door ajar warning. 

“What the hell were you thinking, standing in the middle of the road like that?” he hisses, pulling her back to pin her down with his glare. “You could’ve-- I could’ve killed you.”

“You’re here,” she whispers. 

Her lips are numb from the cold and shock. She reaches up for the blanket, then realizes that she must’ve lost it somewhere along the way.

“Of course I’m here. You really need to stop scaring the hell out of me, you know that.” His brow furrows as he frowns, taking in the state of her. He slips off his own coat and bundles it around her. “Honey, you’re freezing. Let me--”

“We have to go,” she urges, remembering what’s waiting for her, out in the forest. Grabbing hold of his hand, she starts tugging him towards the car. “There’s -- in the woods, there was -- I don’t know, this thing, and it kept screaming, it was horrible--”

Ethan shushes her rambling and guides her into the car, buckling her seatbelt when her hands won’t stop shaking. She tucks her nose into the collar of his coat, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he backs the car up and turns back towards the estate. With one hand on the wheel, the other finds hers and holds tight. 

“Your friends called me when they couldn’t find you, wanted to know if I’d heard from you, in case you’d made it to somewhere with a working phone. I called you-- well, more than I’d care to admit, though it was obvious your phone was dead.” 

“How did you get here so fast?” she wonders aloud. 

“I got here around twelve-thirty, did a sweep of the woods. Around one I started driving around, hoping that I’d come across you in case you made it to the road.” He gives her a worried glance before returning to the road. “The others have been out with the sheriff’s office and the owners, searching the woods.” 

“But I… that doesn’t make any sense,” she tells him with a shake of her head. “It wasn’t even midnight when me and Bryce started back, and he was gone for twenty, maybe thirty minutes. And then I saw him-- well, not him, but at the time I thought it was him being an asshole-- and then that… thing chased after me and I got turned around, sure. But it couldn’t have been more than an hour.”

“Sloane, it’s nearly three in the morning.”

Her immediate reaction is to protest, but the concern in his tone and the clock on his dash render her mute. Which is for the best, she realizes later after pulling up to the house and seeing the driveway choked with cars: Bryce’s, the Bell’s, and several police cruisers. Modern floodlights tucked below the eaves turn the dark house into a bright beacon. Blue and red lights of the cruisers swirl across the lawn. As soon as they pull up, her friends race over to the car and wrap her into a hug. One of the cops takes her statement, ignoring Ethan’s insistence about getting her home and taking it over the phone instead. 

“Must’ve been a coyote,” the cop tells her after she’s finished. “We get a lot of reports of them out here, being so close to the state park.”

“A coyote,” Sloane repeats. 

“Well, sure,” he says with a shrug. “Unless you think it was something else?” 

She doesn’t have an answer for that. Having dealt with her fair share of wildlife coming down from the mountains and into her backyard growing up, she can’t remember ever hearing anything similar. Even her grandfather’s tales about the Wampus cat, her favorite spooky story as a kid, didn’t hold a candle to… to whatever was out there. 

After the cops leave and the Bells lock up, her friends pile into Bryce’s car for the ride home. Though not before Bryce shares with her his own experience with the mysterious shadow. However, he’d gotten a good look with the lantern. 

“It wasn’t an animal,” he whispers to her. “It was her. It was Maggie, I swear it.” 

Sloane didn’t know what to say to that. So she hadn’t said anything, just squeezed his hand and hugged him goodbye. Returning to Ethan’s car, she settled into the passenger seat, thankful for the change of clothes he had in the trunk -- and the first aid kit, of course.  

With the classical music floating out of the speakers and the warmth of his hand in hers again, it would’ve been easy for Sloane to close her eyes. She can’t help it, though, when they back out of the drive. She looks up to the long row of windows. It could be a trick of the headlights, but something watches them from around the lace curtains. As they start to pull away, it slinks back into the shadows of the house. 

------   

Author’s notes and what-have-yous: 

The inspiration for the Angler Estate is the abandoned Uplands Mansion in Baltimore, MD. If you like urbex stuff, I highly recommend looking up some videos of it on YouTube. It’s a gorgeous place, despite all the vandalism. The owners’ surname being Bell is a fun nod to the Bell Witch Cave, my state’s claim to supernatural fame. The mention of The Evil Dead cabin is another poke, since the 1981 original was filmed an hour away from where I live. 

The “watch where you step” line is pulled directly from Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune. 

[rayofspades]

Everyone in the World Forgot How Remakes and Sequels Work and I Have to Talk About It Because I’m Losing My Mind

I tried very, very hard to make this a coherent and somewhat organized post, but it’s still gonna sound like the ravings of a mad woman, so...prepare yourself.

Also, this isn’t gonna be an analysis of why remakes and sequels are so popular, because it’s exactly as simple as it seems: people like things that make them feel nostalgic and creators have caught on to this and realized that by remaking a familiar property, their new product has a built in fan base.

Great.

What I want to talk about is how the concept of remakes/reboots/sequels/whatever has been kind of destroyed. Both audiences and Hollywood have created these weird perceptions that are flooding the market in a way that is exhausting to audiences and confusing to creators. 

So, I’m here to discuss all the different types of remakes and why they work or don’t work and how this culture has been conditioned to support them regardless of quality.

Alright,

let’s do this.

Part 1: Cross-Media Remakes:

I find it somewhat impossible to criticize the existence to book--> movie remakes too much because they’re a vehicle for both creativity and audience expansion, even in cases where they’re motivated by money. Harry Potter and The Hunger Games made for some pretty solid movies, and that’s largely because those books just translated well to film. Obviously some changes had to be made to account for time constraints and visual storytelling, but they can get away with having a similar structure and still feeling entirely new based on the hard shift in presentation from book to film. 

I would make a similar argument for Marvel movies. From what I understand, those movies change more from their source material, and there are a lot of them, but it makes perfect sense to adapt comic books to reach a wider audience. I feel like the main reason people are becoming tired of Marvel movies is their overwhelming quantity, not so much the fact that they’re remakes. 

I would also love to talk about the popularity of GoT and LotR, but I don’t think I’m familiar enough with those franchises to properly discuss them, so I’ll leave that to someone else.

But there is something else I want to talk about.

While Harry Potter and The Hunger Games translated really well to film, the same isn’t true for some other cross media adaptations. 

Part 2: Adapt or Die:

In the late 70s, Stephen King wrote The Shining. I’ve read the book and I really enjoyed it, largely due to King’s writing style (the prose, the internal monologues, etc.)

The thing is, The Shining doesn’t really translate well into the film format; it’s really long and a lot of what makes it good is tied to its presentation.

So when Stanley Kubrick adapted The Shining into a film in the early 80s, he changed a lot.

Like

a lot.

The setting and characters remain pretty much the same, and the story follows similar beats, but certain events and themes have been drastically altered to the point where I would consider it a different story.

(Brief aside; the three most famous/iconic scenes from the film (”Here’s Johnny!” “All work and no play”, and Jack frozen in the snow) are ALL exclusive to the film.)

Regardless, both the movie and the book have maintained their own popularity with their own audiences. Both are considered good and both are considered classics. 

Although, from what I’ve heard, The Shining film did receive criticism back in the day for being needlessly unpleasant. Interesting. 

It’s a somewhat similar story with John Carpenter. If you ask people to list good remakes, 90% of the time people will list The Thing (1982). It’s practically the poster child for “hey, not all remakes are bad, guys.” 

In this case, Carpenter was working from both a previous movie (The Thing From Another World) and the prior novella (”Who Goes There?”). Carpenter’s film definitely borrows more from the novella, but it was obviously going to be compared more to the previous film, and it is  v e r y different from the previous film. Carpenter’s film (like The Shining) received criticism for how gross and unpleasant it was, but became the definitive version of The Thing and stood the test of time to become a horror classic.

Basically, if you need to change the original product when remaking it, do it. That is the best thing you could possibly do. It gives the creator a chance to actually create their own unique product that just happens to be based on or inspired by an existing property. This is actually a legitimately cool phenomenon; taking preexisting stories and altering them to fit a new cultural context or simply expanding and improving on ideas. It’s a similar concept to “old wives tales” and fairy tales, and how those stories are constantly changed and retold and in doing so become timeless. Gee I wonder if fairy tales are going to come up later in this post.

Part 3: Bad Changes are Bad

*Strums guitar* This one goes out to all audience members out there who have convinced themselves that bad remakes are bad because they’re too different from the original. *Strums guitar*

Stop. 

Please stop.

Look, comparing a remake to an original to showcase how bad the remake is is perfectly valid criticism. It can highlight how an idea can be botched when it’s not handled properly. Sure. That’s fine. I highly encourage people to compare the dialogue, characters, and world building of Avatar: The Last Airbender and M. Night Shyamalan’s The Last Airbender. It’s important to recognize how one story is an utter fucking masterpiece and one is a poorly told train wreck.

Here’s the thing:

people seem to criticize the film on the basis of “it’s different” and, I mean, sure. But it’s not just that it’s different, it’s that it’s different and....um....

bad? 

Like, one of the “complaints” I saw about the movie was that firebenders now need actual fire in front of them in order to bend it, and I consider that to be just a neutral change. It’s not really better or worse, it’s just different. And please don’t comment on this post with “skflsfjsf NO it’s because in the original firebenders used the SUN as their source of fire” like yeah I know I get it it’s still an inconsequential change.

Now, saying that the earthbenders being held on land as opposed to the sea is a bad change? Yes, that is valid criticism because it makes no goddamn sense within the movie’s universe and just makes everyone look dumb.

That movie is an utter fucking disaster. It’s poorly directed, it’s poorly written, the casting decisions are baffling, the acting is horrible, it’s poorly paced, and it’s bad.

It’s a bad movie.

I would apply the same logic to the new Death Note live action movie (the American one). Putting aside the racial controversy for a minute, I’m fine with changing things about the plot and structure to properly adapt it into a movie. But...yeah. The plot is bad. It just comes across as really dumb and weird.

So yeah, bad remakes are bad, but it’s not as simple as just being “different.”

If y’all keep complaining about remakes making changes, then you’re only encouraging the products I’m about to talk about in the next few Parts.

Arguably the worst and most prolific products of them all...

Part 4: Sometimes, Things That Are the Same.......Are Worse

Alright, I’m gonna start with a really extreme example, but it perfectly captures the essence of what I’m trying to say.

In 1998, Gus Van Sant made the incredibly confusing and brave(?) decision to remake Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. And I do mean “remake,” as in, it is shot for shot the same movie. It’s some sort of bizarre cinematic experiment.

I really like the original movie, so you would assume that, since this movie is literally the same movie, I would like it too.

I don’t.

No one does.

It’s the same movie but with worse performances.

It’s pointless.

Its existence is both unnecessary and confusing. Watching it was a bizarre experience that just made me wish I was watching the original.

(The best part about this is that 15 years after this remake came out, Carlton Cuse and Kerry Ehrin solved remakes forever by making Bates Motel; a contemporary prequel/reimagining of Psycho (1960). This show takes the characters and key events from the Hitchcock film and puts them in a different setting with an altered version of plot points. The creators openly and repeatedly state that they did not want to just remake Psycho and instead wanted to tell a tragedy/thriller using the framework of Psycho. To me, this perfectly encapsulates what remakes are supposed to be. It’s a good show and it’s severely underrated. Please go watch it, just ignore like half of season 3 and you’re gold.)

Unfortunately, the most common and (arguably) the most frustrating type of remake/sequel/reboot/whatever is the “let’s do the same thing...but different” type.  They can be a retread of the original plot or just take the title and elements of the original and use them while adding nothing substantially new.

Independence Day: Resurgence, Alien Covenant, The Thing (2011), and proooobably most direct sequels in any popular franchise (like the Transformers movies) fall under this category. 

The most notable ones in recent years are D i s n e y  r e m a k e s, but those get their own section.

Also, I’m hesitant to talk about these because it might just be a cultural difference, but it deeply bothers me when I see Japanese live action films that are based on anime and they just...keep everything the same? 

Like, in a live action remake of FMA, why the fuck wouldn’t you make up some grotesque and upsetting monster thing for the Nina Tucker scene? Why would you just use the design from the manga/anime??? WHY WOULDN’T YOU ADAPT IT TO MAKE IT WORK FOR LIVE ACTION?????????????????????????????????????

But hey, what do I know. It might just be a culture thing.

From what I’ve gathered and experienced, people have the following problems with these types of overly-faithful and/or pointless remakes:

1) They’re boring because it’s just a retread that feels inferior. 

2) They try to replicate elements of the original without understanding the actual appeal (aka the tangible details are addressed while the underlying ideas get sidelined or misunderstood).

3) They just...don’t adapt well.

Even if we were to take The Last Airbender and give it to a competent director who has a decently written script, that’s a case where you probably should have changed a lot more to properly make the jump from animated show to live action movie. Obviously, a lot of things would need to be cut or moved around in order to properly pace it.

I’m gonna talk more about this type of movie in a different section so for now let’s move on to the most recent remake craze that’s driving me up the wall.

Part 5: “I’ve got the power of remakes and anime on my side”

Fuck.

So part of the appeal of anime for me has always been its creativity. While some of it is pretty derivative when looking at specific genres, I’ve always found there to be a significantly wider range of creative ideas and concepts in anime than in any other medium. 

But now the industry’s running on fumes and someone let it slip that you can make a quick buck by just remaking a popular IP.

Fuck.

And I don’t wanna rag on the new-ish trend of readapting old anime for the sake of following the recently completed manga. This has had unbelievably successful results with FMA:B and Hunter x Hunter (2011) becoming massive critical hits (and two of my favourite shows).

(Although it hasn’t escaped my attention that studios have, in fact, used this gimmick to make half-baked and poorly crafted products with the knowledge that the existing fan base will buy that shit anyways. I’m looking directly at Berserk (2016) and Book of the Atlantic.)

But now they’re also adapting/sequel-ing shows purely for the sake of cashing in on the original (or adapting pre-made sequel products that were already made with that mindset in the first place).

Clear Card was boring as fuck and transparently existed to sell toys. 

I dropped Steins;Gate 0 after around 8 episodes when it become abundantly clear that it took the “let’s take elements of the old plot and just....do stuff” route without keeping any of what made the original cool and unique. 

The Evangelion movies seem really antithetical to the original show, and the third one feels like it was made by someone who thought they understood Evangelion and hated it. (But luckily the original is coming to Netflix next year so who even cares. Give me that 10/10 show.)

Although I will admit, Devilman Crybaby’s existence kind of falls under what I was saying earlier in this post. It’s one of many adaptations of an old manga that is changed substantially to fit the current cultural climate, with some unique aesthetic changes thrown in there for good measure.

It’s pretty okay.

But um...

Oh boy...

We’re about to get into it lads.

Part 6: Production IG Broke My Whole Brain. Brain Broken. Dead. No Brain.

Hooooooooo boy.

So, FLCL (also known as Fooly Cooly) is one of my favourite shows. In fact, it’s the only show I’ve ever watched that I have absolutely no problems with. None. Not even nitpicks. 

I’ve watched it 6 times, including with director’s commentary. It has an utterly perfect and unique/fluid aesthetic and I wish its visuals were just playing in my brain all of the time. It’s an arthouse comedy, which is a...rare (nonexistent?) genre, and it pulls it off perfectly. Its cool, its beautiful, its silly, its poetic, its creative, it has great themes that can reach both teenagers and adults, and there is literally nothing else on the planet like it.

So when it was announced that they were making a sequel 18 years later with a different cast of characters, I was...weirdly excited. Like a pavlovian happy response. I got even more excited after seeing the trailer.

Only a short while before the show aired did it dawn on me.

Wh...what are they doing?

From the trailer, I could see that they were taking some familiar plot elements (Medical Mechanica, Haruko, N.O., Atomsk, etc.) and adding some different protagonists.

Um

who gives a single fuck about the plot of Fooly Cooly?

The plot elements...don’t matter. It’s just a vehicle for cool and amazing things to happen.

So the show came out, and I saw more clips on youtube. While it is cool that they’re using different episode directors with some different art styles, the difference in quality between the directing and overall visual presentation is shockingly noticeable. I partially blame the fact that the anime industry isn’t as financially stable as it used to be, but this is also a Production IG show that’s based on an extremely popular property, so that’s barely an excuse. 

It mostly just looks like an anime with some cool stylistic elements, whereas the original looks stunningly perfect, dynamic, unique, and beautiful in every single solitary shot. 

I’ve read and watched many reviews of the sequel, both positive and negative, and from what I can tell it’s a textbook example of a “lets take components of the original and just...use them...while kind of missing the point and appeal of the original show.” Fooly Cooly is made of 100% intangible details. That thing is lightning in a bottle, and by taking the tangible details (plot elements and callbacks) and putting them in your show, you’ve already proven that you’ve completely and 100% missed the point.

Also:

this is the new show’s MAL score. While I consider anything between a 6 and a 7 to be “okay,” MAL scores tend to be higher since people rate on separate components of the show.

Like, a 6.7 on MAL is probably a 3 for everyone else. Yikes.

But honestly, the quality of the show is completely irrelevant, because that’s not the actual problem.

The only way to make a new FLCL product would be by accident. Have a director make a deeply personal product in which they do whatever the fuck they want. Have it be stylistically wild and make it look amazing. Create some sort of arthouse comedy with resonant themes and then just get Production IG to slap the FLCL brand on it to appeal to people’s nostalgia.

And that’s when it hit me.

That’s when my whole brain broke.

That accidental, spiritual sequel product can never happen. 

Because it looks like a huge risk to producers. 

Somehow, by remaking one of the most original and generation defining pieces of media ever created, Production IG proved that we do not live in a world where that type of product is allowed to exist. It can’t exist.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Part 7: Disney and the Culture of Hype(rbole)

When I was young, my family owned two versions of Cinderella on film. The 1950 Disney animated version, and the 1997 live-action version with Brandy. 

Obviously, they’re the same story. They follow the same beats and have the same characters. However, there are some major differences in scenes, character portrayal and, most notably, the songs. Both are musicals, but with completely different soundtracks. 

If we want to go even further, we also owned Ever After, which is a completely different retelling of Cinderella with a whole new plot made for an older audience (and it’s also very good. Check it out)

In other words, I have nothing against live action Disney remakes, In fact, I think Disney movies based on fairy tales have become their own type of fairy tale; classic stories that are being constantly retold and reshaped to remain both relevant and timeless. It’s beautiful.

What the fuck is Disney doing in the 2010s?

Right now, the trend seems to be completely recreating older Disney classics, only making them live action and, um, “fixing” them.

If you want a detailed analysis of this, go watch the Lindsay Ellis video about Beauty and the Beast. I’ll briefly sum up, but you should definitely watch the video.

Look, I personally don’t hate Beauty and the Beast (2017), but once you notice that the Beast’s character arc doesn’t really exist...

and that there are a bunch of plot threads that either don’t go anywhere or are just kind of pointless...

and that there’s a weird trolley problem with Belle and the servants that completely botches the moral of the story....

and that by adding a bunch of logic to a fucking fairy tale you’re stripping it of its appeal and also just creating plot holes...

and that the singing isn’t nearly as good as the original...

and a bunch of other problems with acting and characterization....

you start to notice that “hey, they made the exact same movie....but worse.”

But, people are okay with that.

Most people didn’t even really notice. And that’s fine, like what you like. I enjoyed the movie well enough, even though I definitely prefer the original. But...I would probably also like a different retelling of Beauty and the Beast if it was a good product. Except, then it would also be...new? And potentially better? Or at least a lateral move.

I just watched the trailer for the new Lion King (2019), and it looks...kind of good. But even thinking this...I kind of long for death, because the entire trailer is just “hey, remember THIS from the original.”

I’m just...I’m just done. I’m burnt out. I’ve had it.

When are we gonna stop making the same movie over and over again?

Or when are the changes actually going to make sense? I’ve seen most of Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland and it just goes in the opposite direction of changing everything, but the changes are just.....uggggh. Not good. Bad changes are bad.

The thing with Disney is that they are also a hype generating machine, especially after purchasing both Marvel and Star Wars. I once heard someone say in a video that, back in the day, people were trying to make the best possible product so it would sell and get popular. People...don’t really need to do that anymore. If you get 304958493093 billion people excited about the next movie in their favourite 80s franchise by promoting and hyping the shit out of it, then you’ve already secured tons of butts in seats before the movie even comes out. Every movie is an event movie if it comes from Disney and is part of one of their big franchises. Every new thing based on an old thing is the new “best thing.”

Even a new sequel that I actually liked, The Incredibles 2, was weirdly hyped up. (Also, even though I liked it, it didn’t escape my notice that there were a bunch of plot problems with the villain and the script proooobably needed another draft. Just saying.)

So, the big questions are, in this current culture, are we ever going to get another original sci-fi property, like the 80s Star Wars trilogy? Are we ever going to see a boom in a genre outside of Disney owned properties? Are we ever going to get another insane, passion-project smash hit like Fooly Cooly?

No. I don’t think so.

Not in the current state of things. 10 years from now? Maybe. 20 years from now? Probably. 

Part 8: Concluding Thoughts

I don’t know, man.

People are still making original things, but they’re not as popular and/or creative as they need to be to change where we are right now.

The very existence of Get Out does lend me some hope. It was a creative and original movie and a very large audience of people (including myself) really liked it. 

Yay.

More of this please. 

So, um, yeah.

I’m going to go watch Fooly Cooly for the 7th time and scream into a void.

Mmmm bye.

[cinemasnob412]

Them There Songs Used In Movies Creating That There Perfect Moment

Music and film have had a symbiotic relationship for as long as celluloid carried sound. Often times lesser films are elevated simply by the use of the perfect song (Kenny Loggin’s “Meet Me Halfway” made the almost run of the mill OVER THE TOP memorable for more than Sylvester Stallone adjusting his hat backwards) or a somewhat forgotten tune is resurrected thanks to it’s inclusion in a hit film (think “Bohemian Rhapsody” in WAYNE’S WORLD). There are those songs that have been with us for what seems like forever, but the moment they appeared in a classic scene, their association with their moving picture counterpart shines a light on them in a completely different way then we’ve ever thought of them (”Stuck In The Middle With You” in RESERVOIR DOGS). This is the beauty of the pairing of cinema and sound. 

There’s an old tale about when John Carpenter first screened his 1978 film HALLOWEEN for some executives. Without a score present one of the female audience members attending claimed it was the least scary film she ever witnessed. That same audience, complete with that same woman was shown the same exact film a short time later, this time with Carpenter’s now iconic score attached and that same woman was astounded by how frightening the film was. She was certain changes were made in the editing process, but the truth of the matter was it was only the music that was added. Proof that music can make or break a film.

Everyone now seems to know how important a film’s score can be. Try thinking of an INDIANA JONES film without whistling or humming John Williams’ “Raiders March” theme. Nearly impossible. The same holds true for pop music when used properly in a movie. Ever heard Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” on the radio and not immediately thought of John Cusack holding that boombox above his head? Bet you at least once thought of rockin’ the Ray Bans, white socks and a button down shirt and little else when you heard Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock N Roll”. Those of us familiar with those scenes seem to forever associate those tunes with those images.

Whether a film or scene needs a boost of adrenaline (Kenny Loggin’s “Danger Zone” in TOP GUN), a rousing anthem (Survivor’s “Eye Of The Tiger” in ROCKY III), a somber dramatic gut punch (Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” from TITANIC) or a crowd pleasing showstopper (Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes’ “The Time Of My Life” in DIRTY DANCING), music, pop music specifically in film is as important a piece to a movie’s success as the actors the director or the script itself are.

What are the greatest uses of pop music in film? Here’s my definitive top 10 list of the greatest songs to appear in a film and the scene they’ll forever be linked to. Note: I’ve excluded songs that were written specifically for a particular film, so although memorable and great, tunes like Kenny Loggin’s “Footloose” or Ray Parker Jr.’s “Ghostbusters” are not addressed.

10 - Harry Belafonte - “Banana Boat Song (Day O)” - BEETLEJUICE (1988)

Director Tim Burton’s use of Belafonte’s “Banana Boat Song (Day O)” covers two attributes I spoke of earlier. It’s a song that is almost completely juxtaposed against the occurrences on screen as well as a nearly forgotten song that found new life once it appeared in the film.

9 - Dire Straits - “Romeo And Juliet - CAN’T HARDLY WAIT (1998)

Right about the time gross out comedy was about to hit big with the likes of AMERICAN PIE (1999), a throwback to the teen angst filled rom-coms of the decade prior found itself a little audience. That film, CAN’T HARDLY WAIT had an onscreen couple you couldn’t help but root for in Ethan Embry and Jennifer Love Hewitt. Throughout the film, like many in a long line before it, our love struck protagonist Preston (Embry) tries to drum up the nerve and courage to ask his longtime highschool crush (Hewitt) out, in this case before their final graduation senior party comes to an end. One of the film’s more tender moments is when Preston, contemplating his next move before time runs out, does so while the Dire Straits ‘’Romeo And Juliet” sets the scene. It’s heartwarming and perfectly timed.

8 - George Thorogood And The Destroyers - “Bad To The Bone” - CHRISTINE (1983)

Used in films quite often, George Thorogood And The Destroyers’ “Bad To The Bone” is often played for laughs (TERMINATOR 2: JUDGEMENT DAY (1991)), but for my money it’s appearance in the opening scene of John Carpenter’s CHRISTINE is it’s best use. If ever a demonic, possessed inanimate object could ever speak of it’s evils and the perils to come, this would be the song that voices those warnings of the threats ahead.

7 - Chuck Berry - “You Never Can Tell” - PULP FICTION (1994)

It’s a tricky endeavor to place an almost three minute dance scene in the middle of a hard nosed crime film. Do it wrong and you’ll almost certainly lose your audience. Do it right and you create one of the most iconic scenes in motion picture history. Quentin Tarantino’s gangster picture is full of memorable dialog and occurrences, but arguably none that encompass exactly the absurdity and attention to detail Tarantino has become known for like the Jack Rabbit Slims dance scene. For the film buffs you have John Travolta cutting a rug once again onscreen, long after his SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER (1977) days and better yet doing so to such an iconic Chuck Berry song. Classic.

6 - Whitney Houston - “I Will Always Love You” - THE BODYGUARD (1992)

It’s a common misconception that Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” was written specifically for THE BODYGUARD. The truth of the matter is it was written by Dolly Parton way back in 1972, and released in 1974 as the second single from her album “Jolene”. It’s not even the first time the song appeared on film as Parton’s version was featured in 1974′s ALICE DOESN’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE, in 1982′s BEST LITTLE WHOREHOUSE IN TEXAS and in 1996′s IT’S MY PARTY. It’s the inclusion of the song in the 1992 Houston, Kevin Costner film that launched the song into cinematic history. Houston’s powerful vocals carry the tune farther than Parton herself was ever able to. Placed perfectly within the film itself, “I Will Always Love You” sparked the right emotions the film was striving for and became one of the most popular singles of all time.

5 - Righteous Brothers - Unchained Melody” - GHOST (1990)

Who would have thought that one of the men responsible for films such as AIRPLANE! (1980) and THE NAKED GUN: FROM THE FILES OF POLICE SQUAD! (1988) would also give the world one of the most romantic films of the 1990′s? Jerry Zucker’s GHOST captured the hearts of nearly everyone when it hit theater screens in the summer of 1990. It’s “potter scene” featuring the Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody” not only launched a litany of copycat humorous (some not so funny) spoofs, but it also catapulted the duo’s song to number 13 on the Billboard charts, almost three decades after it was first released and charted for the first time back in 1965. 

4 - Sam Cooke - “Twistin’ The Night Away” - INNERSPACE (1987)

***SPOILER*** There’s something sweet when two movie characters share “their song” in a film. Often times it’s done in such a manner that it purposefully tugs at the heartstrings. Joe Dante’s INNERSPACE takes a different route. With his lead protagonist Tuck Pendleton (Dennis Quaid) trapped inside unassuming store clerk Jack Putter’s (Martin Short) body, Pendleton, with the use of the music he often shares with his lost love interest (Meg Ryan) simultaneously loosens up the hypochondriac, nervous wreck Putter and wins back his girl, all thanks to Sam Cooke and a few remade tunes by Rod Stewart. The songs still play and offer realization to the characters, but it’s Dante’s approach that sets this film apart. The “Twistin’ The Night Away” dance scene is the cherry on top. Martin doing his best, vintage Martin to a fabulous Cooke tune. You can’t help but feel good after such a scene.

3 - Eric Clapton - “Layla” - GOODFELLAS (1990)

***SPOILER*** Now the meat and potatoes of this list. These final three embody everything I love about film. Talk about juxtaposition. Martin Scorsese’s usage of the outro from Eric Clapton’s “Layla” is the perfect example of this exercise in film and music marriage. As the deadly finale to the Lufthansa Heist rears it’s ugly head, the opening piano notes play over the camera rising above the hood of a parked pink Cadillac. Inside the bodies of two of the “expendable” participants in the heist. The montage then goes on to show the discovery of the other principal cast members who met the same fate. It’s a chilling scene that reminds the viewer that all the glitz and glam of the gangster life that came before usually ends in this manner. Chilling and perfectly orchestrated filmmaking.

2 - Night Ranger - “Sister Christian” / Rick Springfield - “Jessie’s Girl” - BOOGIE NIGHTS (1997)

***SPOILER*** 1997′s BOOGIE NIGHTS already boasts one of the greatest scenes in cinematic history, the opening three minute tracking shot that rivals the one found in 1990′s GOODFELLAS, but it also features one of the most tense scenes ever to grace film stock. With life unraveling at lightning speed, Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg), coerced by his rag tag crew, agrees to try and sell baking soda in place of cocaine to local eccentric and unsuspecting dealer Rahad Jackson (Alfred Molina). As the scene unfolds, the tension and anxiety build for not only the characters, but the audience as well as Jackson, high as a kite on his product, along side a firecracker throwing Asian boy toy, insists Diggler’s gang listens to his mix tape of assorted 80′s gems. Remember, this film takes place in the Regan era, so the character’s excitement over being able to experience and share his vision on a single audio cassette makes perfect sense. As Night Ranger’s “Sister Christian” builds to a crescendo, Diggler’s discomfort with the entire ordeal becomes evident. As the song gives way to the more subtle “Jessie’s Girl” by Rick Springfield, Dirk’s right hand man Todd (Thomas Jane) grows impatient and turns the once shady deal into a full on armed robbery. Needless to say things don’t end well for nearly all involved, with Diggler barely escaping with his life intact. It’s a masterful achievement in filmmaking and one of the greatest scenes in 1990′s cinema.

1 - Grateful Dead - “Ripple” - MASK (1985)

***SPOILER*** I’ve championed this film and it’s ending on multiple occasions. For me, it’s the most emotional scene in any film I’ve ever seen. As Rusty Dennis (Cher) starts her day, California sun in full effect, she becomes unnervingly aware that her physically handicapped son Rocky (Eric Stoltz) has not gotten up and made it off to school. She cautiously enters his bedroom, knowing exactly what she’ll face, but does so with a brashness and sense of denial that sort of makes the day seem as any other. Her son is dead. We know it. She knows it. As her denial gives way to sorrow, then to frustration we overhear The Grateful Dead’s “Ripple” softly playing on the radio. Rusty completely breaks down, smashing things with reckless abandon. The song still plays. As the scene concludes her anger and denial rests into a soft acceptance. The song still plays. She reapplies her son’s pins from his dream travel map that he removed the night before, knowing it was to be his last night on earth. The song still plays. It’s gut wrenching. If you’re human with even the slightest bit of compassion for your fellow man this scene will wreck you.

HONORABLE MENTION - Stealers Wheel - “Stuck In The Middle With You” - RESERVOIR DOGS (1992)

***SPOILER*** Quentin Tarantino films could populate a list like this all on their own. Being as I went and chose his usage of Chuck Berry’s “You Never Can Tell” from 1994′s PULP FICTION for the list, I decided it would only be fair to go to the Tarantino well once. Leaving off his “Mr. Blonde torture scene” would make a list like this invalid, therefore I’ve included it as the honorable mention. No need to dig into the gruesome details of the scene, if you haven’t ever seen it for yourself you should. If you have, you know what I’m talking about. An upbeat song played over torture and murder. It doesn’t get more diverse in content than that!

[pedalfuzz]

2018 Pedal Fuzz Favorites

Contributors from Pedal Fuzz have weighed in on their favorite albums of 2018. there was (thankfully) no shortage of excellent music released this year. We hope you give these artists a listen, a share, and maybe even smash that ‘buy’ button on Bandcamp or at the counter of your local record store.

***note***these are listed in order they were sent to the editor

Dustin K. Britt

Al Riggs, WE'RE SAFE BUT FOR HOW LONG

David Byrne, AMERICAN UTOPIA

Father John Misty, GOD'S FAVORITE CUSTOMER

Florence + The Machine, HIGH AS HOPE

Gorillaz, THE NOW NOW

Janelle Monae, DIRTY COMPUTER

Mary Lattimore, HUNDREDS OF DAYS

Neko Case, HELL-ON

Sarah Shook & The Disarmers, YEARS

Troye Sivan, BLOOM

Jon Foster

The Nels Cline 4 – Currents, Constellations – Nels Cline is one of those figures that’s always been on my peripheral. His name has floated around progressive independent music for decades. His association with Wilco didn’t cause me to go through his discography. This record just popped up this year, a little promotion from a devotee helped a lot. Seeing him play at Big Ears this past year solidified my interest.

 Currents, Constellations is fascinating, the interplay between Nels and technical wizard Julian Lage keeps pushing the music forward, sometimes noisy and sometimes jazz freak-out. It’s a perfect gateway record, not all the way jazz and not all the way progressive rock. After listening to the record for a few weeks I ordered the last two Lage records and a couple Cline ones. Julian Lage’s Modern Lore is also on my best of 2018 list.

 Similar Fashion – Portrait Of – I don’t know anything about this band. I don’t know where they come from. I have no context other than a simple post from the producer, John Dietrich of Deerhoof fame. Just that last bit of information caused me to click on the link, a task any music fan can do dozens of times in a day when the music is in front of you all the time. Another Bandcamp link, nah…I’ll pass.

 Thankfully I clicked on the link and heard a record I immediately loved. It was energetic and progressive, a little silly even. How many records reference the TV show, Scandal? One thread going through the record is this quasi-Raymond Scott feel. He’s the guy who wrote a lot of music for Looney Toons, and I love him. Imagine Bugs Bunny chasing Foghorn Leghorn through a forest while a small group of music majors raised on jazz and rock and roll score it. The best songs on the record are full of exuberance and sugared up energy.

  Oh Sees – Smote Reverser – Oh Sees have a lot of records. They might have too many records. Because they have so many records it becomes difficult to get excited about a new one. Although I listen to all of their new records I don’t buy them automatically. I feel like I need to sample them. Recently they’ve been going through this tour of the outer fringes of rock and roll subgenres. You know, last year’s record was the folk record with psychedelic touches. They’ve done the garage record with psychedelic touches. Smote Reverser is their early 70’s hard rock record with psychedelic touches.

 When trying to describe the record, I feel like I have nothing positive to say about it. At the core there’s the usual really loud Dwyer leads over the top of everything. You know they’re coming, they’re always there, it should be an annoying cliché but they sound so good. His tone is delicious. Mix in dueling drums and an interest in letting songs unfold for no particular reason, and it’s a record to fall into.

Palberta – Roach Goin’ Down – This is a punk record. It’s ragged and personal and it feels like it could fall apart at any moment. Sometimes I think the musicians are superb players, while on other songs I feel like it’s the first day of them playing their instruments. The songs are short blasts of postpunk joy that could have been made in 1980.

 While I’m enthralled with this record, and enjoyed them immensely when I saw them live in Raleigh, I worry about them. I worry that this perfect moment will be ruined if they become a little more adept at their instruments. Taking away some of the passion in their playing might neuter their effectiveness. A better scenario might be for them to break up and move onto other things leaving this batch of songs as their only work.

 New Optimism – Amazon to LeFrak – New Optimism is basically Miho Hatori, most notably of Cibo Matto fame. It was a record I didn’t know existed until I started down a random google search hole. It was one of those days where think to yourself, “Oh, I wonder what they’re doing” and then six hours have past. Not setting out to find new music by her and then there it is, was like a wonderful present. Unfortunately it’s only an EP. Unfortunately I haven’t heard anyone talk about the record at all. It came out in July and I worry it’s already buried under mounds of other new releases. Googling Hatori again I realize she has produced a full length record I didn’t know anything about. This last surprise was released in October.

 The music on Amazon to LeFrak is right in line with her work in Cibo Matto and her painfully underrated Ecdysis from 2005. The music is colorful and dancey, vibrant and a little quirky. I hope this flurry of creative continues into the New Year.

Eddie Garcia

In 2018 I listened to and focused on music from films as much or more than straight-up albums. Here are my favorites, they’re all magnificent and worthy of your time.

Favorite Film Scores & Soundtracks

Hereditary - Colin Stetson

Mandy - Jóhann Jóhannsson

Suspiria - Thom Yorke

Black Panther - Kendrick Lamar

You Were Never Really Here - Johnny Greenwood

A Star Is Born - Lady Gaga, Bradley Cooper

Vox Lux - Sia / Scott Walker

Revenge - ROB

Kin - Mogwai

Thoroughbreds - Erik Friedlander

Eighth Grade - Anna Meredith

42 Grams - Takénobu

*Honorable mention* Halloween (2018) - John Carpenter. I mean, it was great to hear The Theme loud & revved up/industrialized in a theatre, but not really doing much new here if I’m being honest. Love to John Carpenter forever though!

Favorite Albums

There was much that I ‘liked’ this year in music but less that I ‘loved’ (gonna blame that partially on a shortage of deep listening time). I also had a few instances where live greatly outweighed the record, no matter how much I tried to listen. So rather than list out 40 albums, here are the ones that really affected me, so much so that I even have physical copies of 90% of these.

Sons of Kemet - Your Queen Is A Reptile

Bill Frisell - Music Is

Ohmme - Parts

The Nels Cline 4 - Currents, Constellations

The Messthetics - s/t

Mary Lattimore - Hundreds of Days - Meg Baird & Mary Lattimore - Ghost Forests

Dark Prophet Tongueless Monk - Insides

Yo La Tengo - There’s A Riot Going On

Shane Parish - Child Asleep In The Rain

Low - Double Negative

Marisa Anderson - Cloud Corner

Mind Over Mirrors - Bellowing Sun

Renata Zeiguer - Old Ghost

The Sea And Cake - Any Day

Oh Sees - Smote Reverser

Yonatan Gat - Universalists

Julian Lage - Modern Lore

***I just picked up The Hex by Richard Swift and Mattson 2 Play ‘A Love Supreme’ but as they haven’t gotten a full spin yet I can’t include but they sound mighty fine so far.

Favorite Pop Song

Kimbra - “Top Of the World”

*I don’t really listen to much modern pop music but this song slays and instantly appealed to me the first time I heard it.

Patrick Wall’s Top Ten

Knee Meets Jerk, or: In Which a Semiretired Music Critic and Journalist Offers Brief, Non-Critical and Non-Sequitur Thoughts on His Favorite Music of 2018. Because, Hey, Music Is Personal and Subjective, Right?

*Results listed in alphabetical order and subject to change.

Bad years look better when they’re gone.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more unstable — professionally, personally, psychologically — in my life than I did in 2018. In the past eighteen months, I've moved twice — from a new home to an old home to very, very far away from home. I bounced from a solid if unexciting job to no job to high-paying but infrequent freelance jobs to steady and cool but low-paying jobs to a high-paying but stressful and wholly unfulfilling job. Commutes went from long car rides to long bike rides and long walks to long train and subway rides. As summer faded to fall and turned to bitter winter, the world just felt increasingly, incontrovertibly, ineffably doomed. New homes didn’t feel as such. Old ones seemed gone, unable to be returned to — no man, Heraclitus mused, can step twice in the same stream.

If things were roiling internally, they weren’t any better externally. The planet is doomed. The authoritarians won. The world got colder. Some of my friends got cancer. Some of them, their cancers came back. Some of my friends got sad. Some of them came to the brink of death. Some of them got help, got better. Some of them didn’t make it through the year, taken either by illness or by their own hands, their voices now silhouettes, never coming back.

All this is to say: I have done far less critical listening this year than in the past. My time is more limited. My tastes are broader and more tolerant now than when I was a quote-unquote critic, but they’re harder to fathom. The things I connected with this year, I don’t know that I could explain why. I don’t know why Cave’s “San’Yago” spoke to me on the same level as Janelle Monae’s “Make Me Feel,” Jeff Parker’s “Blackman,” They Might Be Giants’ “Last Wave,” The Fearless Flyers’ “Ace of Aces,” Superchunk’s “What a Time to Be Alive,” The Messthetics’ “The Inner Ocean,” Fucked Up’s “Normal People.” I don’t know that I can qualify why none of the records those songs were on made the list below, or why I connected with those records in times of existential crisis. (Though, were I to give it some good, critical though, Monae’s Dirty Computer would probably grade out as the best of the year.)

How do we measure out our worst years? What defines them, shapes them? What do we reach for when everything feels bad? What do we reach for when we just need things to get better? The sensitive among us, we to turn art — the gear-minded among us, to music, in particular. But how do we code ourselves to forget, when the music we listened to — the music we connected with the most — brings us back to those places?

If you’re lucky, you get to close that part of yourself off and forget about it. If you’re luckier, you don’t. You recognize those sounds — those emotions — when you hear them again. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to close that part of yourself off and forget about it — but you’ll recognize those sounds when you heard it again. You just need to realize that you were lucky enough to have heard them in the first place.

So here are eleven records released in 2018 that I listened to that I enjoyed more than the other ones I listened to that were released in 2018. These are the records that provided some small comfort, and that will reinforce, in the years to come, that bad years look better when they’re gone. We hope.

Rafiq Bhatia, Breaking English [Anti-]

The Body, I Have Fought Against It, But I Can’t Any Longer [Thrill Jockey]

Khruangbin, Con Todo El Mundo [Dead Oceans]

Julian Lage, Modern Lore [Mack Avenue]

Low, Double Negative [Sub Pop]

Makaya McCraven, Universal Beings [International Anthem]

Mount Eerie, Now Only [P.W. Elverum & Sons]

Ohmme, Parts [Joyful Noise]

Miles Okazaki, Work [self-released]

Tangents, New Bodies [Temporary Residence Limited]

Ryley Walker, Deafman Glance [Dead Oceans]

Patrick Wall is an infrequent contributor to Pedal Fuzz. Sometimes, people pay him to write things. He used to live in North Carolina; he currently lives in Massachusetts. The record he actually listened to the most this year? Psychic Temple’s Plays Music for Airports.

Tom Sowders

 This year I listened to a lot of music that did not come out recently. BUT. I did have some favorites in 2018.

Eric Bachman - No Recover

The National - Cherry Tree Vol. 1

The National - Boxer Live in Brussels

Big Red Machine - S/T

Cat Power - Wanderer

The Love Language - Baby Grand

Shopping - The Official Body

Waxahatchee - Great Thunder

Speedy Ortiz - Twerp Verse

Surfbort - Friendship Music

 Lee Wallace

To make this as absolutely accurate as possible and to allow for any sudden last minute submissions, I am writing this at 8pm on New Year's Eve.

My best of 2018:

Guided By Voices - Space Gun (Rockathon Records). This has already become one of my touch stone GBV albums, in roughly the same status as Mag Earwhig! or Class Clown Spots a UFO or even Vampire on Titus. Fifteen concise psych pop rockers, not a micro second wasted.

Adrian Legg - Live (self release). Adrian is surely one of the two or three best finger style guitarists on this planet, and for nearly forty years he has been traveling and performing solo gigs at house concerts, coffee bars, pubs and anywhere ears will listen.  As wonderful as his playing and composing can be, his arduous fans know that his eloquent, story like song introductions are half of the appeal of seeing him in person. This is perhaps the first time that Legg has released a live album with these stories intact. His ruminations lately have concerned greed, materialism, racism, and the destruction of the environment, all from the perspective of a sagely septaugenarian that has traveled the world many times over, but they are as beautiful as his delicate, astounding guitar playing.

Julia Holter - Aviary (Domino Recording Co.). Holter's third album takes an extraordinary leap from the intelligent chamber pop of her previous work to spooky, other worldly avantgarde. Since so many music reviewers tend to make lazy comparisons to Kate Bush when writing about Holter, imagine if “Lionheart” had jumped straight ahead to “The Dreaming” with 21st century technology. Batshit arrangements and sonic freakouts, lysergic orchestral pile ups that come from outer space, on first listen it all sounds like a mess in places, but hang in there, your brain will thank you.

Janelle Monae - Dirty Computer (Atlantic). Composer/singer/dancer/actress/ time travel enthusiast Monae can be high on concept sometimes but she is even higher on melody, groove and astoundingly great vocal performances. I haven't yet taken the time to dissect what all of this “means” in terms of her commentary about contemporary society and what not, but it sure sounds superb. I suspect that she isn't even close to her peak yet, either.

Lilac Shadows - Brutalism (Diggup Tapes). This Durham, NC quartet has apparently done cassettes and digi downloads before but this is on a bona fide high quality vinyl LP in beautiful packaging. Flavors of “Movement”-era New Order and classic 4AD make this music nerd proud to share some geographical proximity with them. Excellent live band too.

[xtruss]

‘Muhammad Ali’ Explores the Many Layers of ‘the Greatest’

A new four-part documentary series by Ken Burns paints a sweeping portrait of a man whose life intersected with many of modern America’s most profound changes.

— September 9, 2021

FILE - Heavyweight champion Muhammad Ali stands over fallen challenger Sonny Liston, shouting and gesturing shortly after dropping Liston with a short hard right to the jaw on May 25, 1965, in Lewiston, Maine. The legendary boxer and activist gets the Ken Burns treatment in a four-part film premiering Sept. 19 on PBS. (AP Photo/John Rooney, File)

Considering the number of movies, documentaries and other entertainment vehicles made about Muhammad Ali, it would seem that — much like the former heavyweight champion at the end of his 1971 fight against Joe Frazier — there’s not much left to offer that’s fresh.

Will Smith played Ali. Ali even played Ali in “The Greatest.” The 1996 documentary ” When We Were Kings ” about Ali’s “Rumble in the Jungle” bout with George Foreman won an Oscar.

Documentary filmmaker Ken Burns knew there were more layers to reveal in Ali’s rise from his Louisville, Kentucky, roots into the source of Black pride who captivated America with his boxing braggadocio, his contentious refusal to fight in Vietnam, and all through his final years into his lengthy, heartbreaking battle with Parkinson’s disease.

Burns’ film ” Muhammad Ali ” explores the life of the boxer who floated and stung his way into greatness.

“He’s just so compelling,” Burns said. “He’s complicated, there’s undertow, there’s flaws and we don’t hesitate to remind people throughout this film that there are. At the end, he is a transcendent American character. He has so much, still today, to offer us. He was, of course, at the intersection of so many themes of race, of politics, of war, of faith, of fidelity.”

Burns began work on Ali, who died at 74 in 2016, nearly seven years ago and said the story on the boxer’s life “lifts up and we see instantly how it resonates in the moment.” Burns (who co-directed the film with his oldest daughter, Sarah, and her husband, Dave McMahon) weaves archival footage and interviews with Ali’s daughters, ex-wives, sports writers, athletes and activists to stitch together pieces of the charismatic and complicated life of the three-time heavyweight boxing champion.

“There are a lot of really, really great documentary films on Muhammad Ali. I think the opening half-hour, 20 minutes of Michael Mann’s ‘Ali’ is one of the finest openings of any film, ever,” Burns said. “Yet nobody had said, let’s try to do it comprehensively. It’s not definitive. It’s, let’s try and understand him from birth in the early 40s in segregated Louisville, Kentucky, to the death by Parkinson’s.”

Burns talked with The Associated Press by phone from his home in Walpole, New Hampshire, to discuss the four-part, eight-hour series on Ali that airs Sept. 19-22 at 8 p.m. on PBS.

AP: When you peeled back the layers, what was your biggest discovery about Ali?

Burns: I think it’s this sense of purpose. He puts on the gloves, he has a couple of fights and now declares he’s The Greatest. It’s like you’re hitting a double in tee ball and saying, “I am going to be the greatest baseball player ever.” OK, that’s good aspirations. The poise that he has at different points. The Frazier fight, he’d been bagging on Frazier, he’d been predicting, he’d been brash, he’d been bold. But then he talks about setting an example because everybody loses. In fact, everybody does lose. Nobody gets out of this alive. He gets that. He understands something really fundamental. In the midst of this loud, wonderful promoter, learning from Gorgeous George, he has this in him.

AP: What did you learn about how America’s opinion of Ali changed through the decades?

Burns: When he dies, we forget what a divisive figure he was. When he’s out lighting the torch in Atlanta, we forgot what a divisive figure he was. He was considered like a Buddha, like a religious figure. I think it’s the way that in the midst of this loud, cacophonous thing that was his life, how amazingly centered he was, how purposeful it was. (His image) is already improved after the loss to Frazier in the first of the three Frazier fights. He gets hit in the last round and he gets back up. In losing he wins. By that time, we’re beginning to realize he was right about Vietnam. He began to win people back.

AP: Did you feel Ali mirrored the Black experience decade by decade or did he set it by the nature of his celebrity and stances?

Burns: I think it’s a little bit of both. He reflected aspects of it in that he represented a new model of it that was less interested in the old tactics of the Southern, Christian civil rights movement which was about integration. His was a little bit more Northern, a little bit more adamant about separation, which has been a tradition in Black politics dating back to Marcus Garvey, certainly before that. But at the same time, as he becomes this huge symbol, and people begin to embrace the idea of a new form of Black masculinity, of the kind of confidence and willingness to say “I’m beautiful” and “Black is beautiful,” that’s part of that Black Power movement, that’s not just what the Panthers are doing, but many people are embracing a kind of sense of their own value and worth. He is both reflecting and also directing.

AP: Did you learn there were times Ali didn’t want the burden that came with who he was?

Burns: You can see in him sort of flashes of frustration, less about the burden than people getting it wrong. When he said, “I don’t have to box. It’s not about boxing.” At the very end of the film, (daughter) Rasheda (Ali) says, “Boxing is just this much” (while pinching her fingers together). I think he understood he had a bigger thing that he was about. He could have been a simple carpenter.

AP: Did you meet Ali?

Burns: I met him once. It was in LA, mid-late 90s. Definitely way into Parkinson’s. I had a cold and I had gone into a coffee shop to get some tea. I was waiting to take it out and I turned around and in a booth, there was Muhammad Ali. I had the only wordless conversation I’ve ever had with anybody. It was spectacular. It was almost a religious experience. I looked at him and without opening my mouth, I said, “You’re Muhammad Ali.” And without opening his mouth, he looked at me and said, “Yes I am.” … I never shook his hand. It was just the most spectacular thing.

AP: Are you tempted down the road to leave PBS and make films for one of the streaming services?

Burns: I could go to those premium services or the streaming services and they’d give me the budget. The budget for “Vietnam” turned out to be $30 million and they’d do it. But they’d want it in two years. We needed to do 10 1/2 years. At PBS, they give me a little bit of money and I go out and raise the rest. They just want it to be what I want it to be. Not only do I publish each time a director’s cut, I also have the ability to have creative control over it.

[legendary]

Constructing a Dystopian World

A Conversation with The Thinning Director Michael Gallagher

A Conversation with The Thinning Director Michael Gallagher

The Thinning is a new YouTube Red Original Movie from Legendary Digital Studios starring Logan Paul, Peyton List, Lia Marie Johnson, Calum Worthy and Ryan Newman. Set in a future where population control is dictated by a high school aptitude test, two students must take down the system before it takes them first. We had the chance to sit down with Michael Gallagher, director of The Thinning, to talk about how he went about creating an original dystopian world from the ground up, what it was like working with Logan Paul, and what real world elements inspired the film’s design. See what he had to say below.

Q: Legendary has a history of putting an emphasis on “world building” and The Thinning very much follows that trend. Talk about what it was like creating an entirely original dystopian world from the ground up for this. Did you pull inspiration from any other dystopian/sci-fi/young adult geared stories or worlds to help you create this one?

MG: The movie is set in a sort of not-too-distant future / bizarro version of America— an authoritarian government runs all schools like prisons. The failed students are sentenced to death and passing students are thrown lavish parties. Designing the high security school was key. We have a fictional task force called the Department of Population Control— DPC for short. Showing a high school run by militarized guards forcing students into a scary TSA-style search really helped warn the audience that this is a new America. I was heavily inspired by paranoid thrillers of the 60’s and 70’s like The Parallax View and 3 Days on the Condor. I love movies following an innocent thrown into a conspiracy plot and having to prove that nothing is as it seems or they will lose their life in the process. I am also a huge fan of the social satires of John Carpenter, who is such a master at exploring current issues in a sci-fi setting and making them edge-of-your-seat, entertaining thrill-rides.

Q: The Thinning feels timely and relevant in so many ways, even aside from any political themes. The film feels like it resonates with young people and their anxiety about school and getting into college and test-taking in particular, especially as there’s more and more focus put on learning differences and test-taking abilities. What was it like satirizing this in a way that hadn’t been done before?

MG: School always felt like it had life-or-death stakes to me. Kids are trained from literally pre-school, that they have to do well on tests, get good grades, and get accepted into the best college or your life will be a complete failure. And most of the emphasis is put on the weekly/monthly results as opposed to actually learning and retaining information. And the fact that colleges are becoming so expensive that students are taking out massive loans that they are stuck paying long after school is over. So really students are becoming imprisoned in debt by following the system. I don’t want to discourage teens from going to college, but I do think it’s important to not just follow what everyone else is doing and find your own path.

Q: Talk a little bit about finding and shooting in the high school location – that was a real school right? It looks so futuristic and cold in a way that feels like it should have been made up just for this film.

MG: We found this real, public high school called Diamond Ranch out in Pomona, California designed by Thom Mayne. I never thought we’d find a school that already looks like a high tech prison. All we had to do was add motorized metal shutters to create the lockdown effect, a few metal detectors, guards, and we were good to go! 

Q: The officers in the film definitely have some twisted Stormtrooper vibes to them and go a long way in creating the tension of the world. What was the process in designing their look?

MG: I was heavily influenced by riot police imagery, particularly in other countries like the Taiwan— we used the same ballistic face masks that they use. I think using real items in a new way can be an efficient means to stay grounded and keep costs down while building a new universe. I love the tactical feel of Sicario and how brutal the police imagery felt. But I realized that the feeling of a tough and punishing task force was achieved by just watching these soldiers waiting for something to happen. This led me to take time early on in the film and show the DPC Guards watching the students, waiting for someone to get out of line. The threat of violence is often more terrifying than showing acts of violence.

Q: : It’s not easy to make a scene of kids taking a test particularly exciting, but the film succeeds in making those sequences perhaps the most tense of any in the film. How do you go about constructing that tension in the cinematography, visual and sound design, and editing?

MG: I was so lucky to be surrounded by an incredibly talented team. Our Composer, Brandon Campbell, did a phenomenal job scoring this movie. His music creates so much heart-pounding tension. Our camera team— Greg Cotten, Director of Photography, and Arjun Prakash, Gaffer, really nailed the lighting and atmosphere of the testing sequences— we wanted an eerie blue-green glow from the tablets as the main source of light on the students faces to give them a sickly look as they nervously punch in answers. But the biggest props go to Brian Ufberg, Editor, who really built an amazing pace for the testing sequences. It was their combination of talents that made those scenes so cinematic and tense.

Q: Logan Paul is obviously a big talent but this was one of his first ventures into dramatic acting. What was that like working with him to bring Blake to life?

MG: Logan Paul is an enormous talent. He came into audition for the movie, as this role was worlds different from the type of persona he normally portrays online, and he just nailed it. I was honestly amazed at how controlled and dedicated he was to creating this character from the ground up. When he walked out of the audition room, we all knew Logan was our Blake Redding. And throughout rehearsals and production, Logan was so focused and incredibly fun to work with. He has an infectious energy and kindness that rubs off on everyone. I really can’t wait to work with him again...

Q: The film feels oddly relevant with some aspects of our current political climate. When you were developing this, were there any real-world headlines you were pulling from as inspiration or is it mostly a coincidence that the film has turned out to be a sort of satire of our current political landscape?

MG: Our running joke is that The Thinning is a vision of “post Trump” America— and that if we do a sequel it will just be a documentary. The film was meant to feel more dystopian than I think it actually does because of the recent political promises of restoring “law & order” back to America. The only person who I hope doesn’t watch this movie is President Trump. I’m afraid it might give him some ideas…  

Q: The film hints at the larger world beyond Texas and the US in the creepy video before the little kids take their test. Can you tell us what life is like in any other countries with the way they handle the need to cull the population? Any possibility of exploring other parts of the world going forward?

MG: We originally expanded on the bigger population questions in our screenplay. Because the story is so centralized to America, we felt it might be confusing to have so few mentions of other regions. The idea is that every country can choose how they will meet their quota of eliminating 5% of their population annually. Some countries would have mandatory birth control, others would eliminate 5% of the elderly— you can see how it can quickly raise so many questions. If we were to continue the story, I hope to explain that the thinning is a controversial law that some US states are attempting to replace with other solutions— which explains the Governor’s charge to run a pro-thinning platform and make it a federal law.

Q: Talk a little bit about the film’s color palette and how it changes throughout the story. I noticed early on how gray the school was before all hell breaks loose and a lot of reds and blacks obviously work their way in once the breakout begins. How did you go about mapping that out?

MG: In the script, we had a clear idea of using the red light as a sort of mood setter— to show that this world we know is being disrupted and our heroes are in immediate danger. There is a major power shift at that moment in the script so it’s nice to visually convey this to the audience with a dramatic change in color palette. Our production designer, Alec Contestabile, was really terrific in helping determine the colors and moods of various locations— we landed on cool metallic blues for the school and dry yellows for the desert to really create that desolate sand-swept Texas vibe.

Q: Without spoiling anything, the film ends with a big surprise that still leaves many things open-ended. Can you give us any hints at what’s to come next?

MG: Honestly, I am just following the political news as closely as possible to get ideas. I feel like any continuation of The Thinning will have to be more comedic since real life is basically devolving into a long, sad, episode of VEEP. But in all seriousness, any sequel would follow our characters further down the rabbit hole and show how deep the corruption goes within the government. And we will definitely add more fuel to some of the love triangles because if there is anything I love more than crazy politicians, it’s love triangles.

The Thinning is currently streaming on YouTube Red and is NOW available to rent or purchase on iTunes, Google Play, and Amazon. Storyboard art by Amy Umezu

[anythingstephenking]

Drive My Car

After months without turning a single page, I am crusin’! Man I am really on a roll! If you haven’t guessed yet, I am making car puns, as we dive (drive?) into Christine, the killer car story King promised his publishers would come after Different Seasons.

(Side note: while reading I make notes on my phone of pages to reference back to, cause only a real monster dog-ears pages. My notes on Christine read “crusin’…. on a roll… think of other car puns.” I didn’t.)

Although Wikipedia claims this book was published in ’82, it was actually released in ’83. Really letting me down Wikipedia. But happily I move into the next year of King books, and one step closer to catching them all like they were a buncha Pokemon.

This cover art is the tits. Also, the author’s photo on the back! Lastly, the inner cover with SK initialed in red and gold, like Gryffindor for serial killers.

This book has no preface or afterword, which is where I usually learn all my fun facts, so I did a bit more digging (nay, googling) for the backstory on this guy.

Well I couldn’t turn out much of interest. Sorry to disappoint. The story must have just appeared in King’s brain one day. I did love that the book was dedicated to George Romero. I have enjoyed learning all about King’s friendships, and imagine they all get together once a month in some kind of bizarro-minds-club, play cribbage and gripe about how everyone thinks they’re weirdos.

Posted without comment.

Each of the 51 chapters starts with a song lyric about cars. If you’ve ever listened to Car Talk, you know the list of songs about cars is long. I recognized the Bruce Springsteen ones. It was a throwaway device IMO, and just made me feel bad for the intern that had to work to get the rights to use 51 different song lyrics. King actually calls this out in a brief Author’s Note on the copyright page of my “Book Club” edition copy, thanking specific folks for helping him get the rights. OK, I guess I forgive you Stephen. Kisses.

On the surface, Christine is a story that is part killer car, part demon possession and part star-crossed lovers. I know, right? 

Christine tells the story of Arnie Cunningham and his car Christine. Annie is your run-of-the-mill nerd. He’s got bad skin and has never done anything his parents wouldn’t approve of. His best bud Dennis is decidedly a cooler cat - he plays football so that means he’s automatically elevated to a higher class.

One day Arnie sees Christine, sitting broken on the lawn of an equally broken house and decides he has to have her. Men (eyeroll). He buys her from the owner, Roland LeBay and off he goes to a local garage to fix her up.

Dennis is almost immediately unnerved by Christine. Rightfully so, since the car goes on to kill a bunch of people.

Then along comes Leigh Cabot, the new girl in school. All the guys have the hots for her, but she’s only got eyes for Arnie. For once, the pretty girl picks the nerd, and it doesn’t really go all that well for her. Pick the quarterback the next time honey.

So Arnie and Leigh are an item, and Leigh also hates Christine. No one can quite put their fingers on it, but a rotten smell runs through her interior and the radio seems stuck on the 50’s rock station. Dennis and Leigh are plagued by nightmares of Christine coming to life.

And suddenly the engine began to rev and fall off, rev and fall off; its a hungry sound, frightening, and each time the engine revs Christine seems to lunge forward a bit, like a mean dog on a weak leash… and I want to move… but my feet seem nailed to the cracked pavement of the driveway.

King takes his time to build the story up, as he so often does. Christine doesn’t claim her first victim until halfway through. Until then you’re stuck with this looming sense of dread, knowing terrible things are coming. Every time Christine’s headlights turned on by themselves I muttered “oh... no “ to myself.

It’s not enough that Christine comes to life and runs people over (even manages this feat on a guy who is inside his house), but Arnie begins to take on characteristics of the previous owner, Roland LeBay. Since Roland was a real grade-a asshole, this doesn’t sit well with his friend, girlfriend or family. He becomes more and more like LeBay, until there’s no nerd left. Watching Arnie fall apart is heartbreaking.

But past the surface, Christine is a story of the pains of growing up, which isn’t really a new theme for King, who came of age himself in the 50s. And so often with King’s stories of teenage agony, and even when the story takes place in 1978, the 50s are lurking.

Before Arnie’s demise, he makes off-handed comments about how his parents know that having kids remind them that they’re going to die. Pretty grim stuff.

And Dennis has this revelation while out in Christine for the first time:

I was surprised by a choking panic that climbed up in my throat like dry fire. It was the first time a feeling like that came over me that year - but not the last. Yet it’s hard for me to explain, or even define. It had something to do with realizing that it was August 11, 1978, that I was going to be a senior in high school next month, and that when school started again it meant the end of a long, quiet phase of my life. I was getting ready to be a grown-up, and I saw that somehow - saw it for sure, for the first time in that lovely but somehow ancient spill of golden light flooding the alleyway between a bowling alley and a roast beef joint. And I think I understood then that what really scares people about growing up is that you stop trying on the life-mask and start trying on another one. If being a kid is about learning how to live, then being a grown-up is about learning how to die.

And these kids learn their lesson.

In some ways, Christine felt like a stronger coming of age tale than The Body. I was really rooting for these kids.

7/10

First line: This is the story of a lover’s triangle, I suppose you’d say - Arnie Cunningham, Leigh Cabot, and, of course, Christine.

Last line: His unending fury.

Added Bonus: King said in an interview about Christine getting killed and perhaps coming back to life (35 year old spoiler, sorry!): "All I can think of would be if the parts are recycled, you'd end up with this sort of homicidal Cuisinart, or something like that!” 

Hardy Har Har! I might not be scared of cars but I am now scared of my food processor.

Adaptations:

Christine The Movie was the quickest turn-around from page to screen of any King movie, which began filming just as the book was released. The producer was a friend of King’s, and signed on before the book was published. He had his pick between Christine and Cujo, and chose Christine because Cujo seemed “too silly.” For real bro? I mean, they’re both great stories but I would tend to think of a rabid dog as a more serious threat than a sentient car that love Buddy Holly songs and blood.

1983 was a busy year for King movies. I’ve lost track since I am reading the books chronologically but not watching the movies that way. I’ve already watched some spectacularly bad King movies, but at this point in 1983, the movie-going public had only seen Carrie, Salem’s Lot and The Shining. Given the popularity of 2/3 of these movies, I bet everyone in Hollywood wanted their hands on the rights to a King story.

In 1983 Cujo, The Dead Zone and Christine all hit the big screens in August, October and December, respectively. I don’t know for sure but if I had to guess, that was too much King.

So, if you expect a whole lot of a John Carpenter movie about a killer car, well then, that’s your own fault. This movie was a lot of fun. As with so many King movies, his storytelling and character building just doesn’t translate to the big screen. The screenwriters seemed to not even care to try, boiling the main characters down to stereotypes. Arnie rocks giant glasses with tape across the arch; Dennis wears his letterman jacket; Leigh’s got great legs. Christine rolls around killing people that cross Arnie. There’s little mention of LeBay or his backstory in creating (or at least encouraging) Christine.

Instead, there’s the film’s opening sequence to explain Christine’s origin, which I just adored. Christine’s rolling along the production line in Detroit, the sole red car in a sea of white. A line worker attempts to open her hood, and it promptly clasps down on his hand. All while George Thorogood’s Bad To The Bone plays. Just on the nose, great start.

Unlike the novel with its clear themes of friendship, first love and looming adulthood, this movie is about one thing and one thing only - a killer car. Which is really ok. John Carpenter does his best and there’s some suspenseful moments with Halloween-esque sound effects. Whenever someone is pissing Christine off she locks her doors and Little Richard starts singing from her stereo "Keep a knockin' but you can't come in.” Christine catches on fire and still manages to run someone down, setting him on fire in the process. I’m not much a fan of big action sequences, but knowing they used almost 30 cars to make this and everything was filmed sans CGI made me appreciate it more.

Before I go, quick notes on the cast. Kevin Bacon was set to play Dennis, but chose to do Footloose instead. Good call, past Kevin Bacon. So they cast this guy, who is basically a poor man Kevin Bacon.

Leigh is played by Alexandra Paul, who would go on to rock a rad red swimsuit on Baywatch. Kelly Preston has a small role, and would go on to play the role of a lifetime as John Travolta’s wife. Rounding out the supporting cast was Robert Proskey (who I remember as Mr. Lundy in Mrs. Doubtfire), and Harry Dean Stanton who has basically been in everything.

Next up is Pet Semetery, which is (Chris Trager voice) literally my favorite King. My goal is to get through It before the new movie comes out in September, which means I have six books to get through in 3 months. So (spooky voice) I’ll be right back!

[aion-rsa]

How Ennio Morricone’s Sinister Score toThe Thing Earned Him Accolades and a Razzie Nomination

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Ennio Morricone composed over 500 film scores during his illustrious 70-year career but few demonstrate his brilliance better than the one created for John Carpenter’s The Thing. 

It may not have garnered the accolades of his soundtracks for The Mission or Cinema Paradiso, but the Italian’s heart-stopping synth-led score remains iconic, not least for the fact it was unlike anything he had produced before or since. 

Up until then, Carpenter had scored the music for all of his films, earning plaudits for his pioneering use of synthesizers – something he insisted was born out of practicality as it allowed his soundtracks to “sound big with just a keyboard”. 

After enjoying major hits with low budget movies like Halloween and Escape from New York, The Thing represented Carpenter’s fateful first foray into major studio filmmaking. 

Handed a $15 million budget by Universal, along with the added responsibility that came with it, Carpenter was eventually persuaded by associate producer Stuart Cohen to outsource work on the film’s soundtrack. 

It was Cohen who suggested Morricone, but Carpenter had no qualms about hiring the Italian. 

Like many filmmakers of his generation, Carpenter had devoured the Sergio Leone spaghetti westerns like The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, which the composer had made his name with. 

His appreciation of Morricone ran so deep, in fact, Carpenter even revealed to the Italian that he played his music at his wedding to actress Adrienne Barbeau. 

Eager to give his production a more European feel, Carpenter flew out to Rome to meet with the composer and somehow got him to agree to score his adaptation of the novella “Who Goes There?” 

It was a story unlike any the Italian had ever worked on before, centring on a snowbound Antarctic research outpost and a group of men going up against an alien capable of absorbing and imitating any living form, human or otherwise. 

Carpenter’s version would be made all the more distinctive for the presence of Rob Bottin and a script from Bill Lancaster, the son of legendary actor Burt Lancaster, that called for an array of grotesque special effects involving inside-out dogs and teeth-baring chest cavities. 

Morricone had established his reputation with westerns but, in the early 1980s, was beginning to make an impact in mainstream Hollywood, making the project something of a leftfield choice. 

Arguably the biggest challenge Morricone faced was Carpenter himself. 

Though not difficult to work with per se, Carpenter struggled to relinquish control of composing duties and kept Morricone on a tight leash during what proved a close collaborative process. 

Considered more of an auteur at the time, Carpenter’s films had all boasted a distinctive keyboard-and-synth-led sound that was dark, brooding and unmistakably atmospheric.  

It was something he was determined to maintain in The Thing, with Carpenter even going as far as repeatedly playing Morricone his score from Escape From New York by way of guidance. 

While that particular sound may have been classic Carpenter even then, it was a marked departure from the strings and trumpets more commonly associated with the Italian’s work. 

On top of this, Morricone was also expected to work on the soundtrack without having seen the finished film, which was still being edited at the time. 

The Maestro, to his credit, took it all in his stride, accepting that there would be some trial and error in the creative process as he attempted to replicate that signature sound. 

“He was just wonderful to work with,” Carpenter recalled to Entertainment Weekly.  “He was the kindest man, and very, very collaborative. Did not show him the film. We weren’t done yet, so I just talked to him about it. Discussed it with him. And the film came later.” 

Carpenter’s happiest memory of working with Morricone came during their collaboration on the film’s main theme – even though the Italian’s version originally struck a slightly different note. 

While replicating the dark, droning sound present in Carpenter’s previous work, the director suggested Morricone’s first attempt was “too flourishy and ornate”. 

“I said to him, ‘Ennio, use less notes,’ and he did,” Carpenter told IndieWire.  The director’s feedback appeared justified when the finished version was complete, with Morricone effectively capturing the classic, stripped back Carpenter sound while imbuing the film with a unique sense of dread. 

The theme plays over the film’s opening like a bleak warning for what lies ahead: “abandon hope, all ye who enter here”.   

The manner in which the sparse, thudding, beat gives way to droning synthesiser serves as an auditory embodiment of the ‘thing’ itself, absorbing the soundscape around the audience.  

Even the simple beat underscoring proceedings resembles something akin to a heartbeat, eventually being drowned out by something bigger and otherworldly. 

Resistance, as the cliché goes, is futile. 

Sergio Leone once described how Morricone’s music “underlines actions and feelings more than the dialogue” with The Thing’s minimalist score adding an unmistakable layer of tension that imbues even the most ordinary of shots with an unnerving sense of doom.

It wasn’t just Morricone’s work on the main theme that helped elevate The Thing, however. 

After travelling to LA to finally watch some footage of the unfinished film, Morricone recorded several additional sections of his soundtrack during a series of orchestra sessions at Universal, telling Carpenter to “use it wherever you wish”. 

Though Carpenter was eventually forced to record several simple compositions to glue the completed movie’s score together, the music created during those orchestra sessions added an extra dimension to the film that owed more to Morricone than the director. 

“He added something to it, that I didn’t realize, didn’t ask for,” Carpenter told IndieWire. 

“This deep, tragic sense that this is the end of things, of everything. Oh my god, it really worked. I was delighted with it.” 

This notion of “the end of things” is present in the score accompanying memorable scenes like the one in which Wilford Brimley’s Blair runs a series of simulations on his computer calculating the time frame before the alien achieves global assimilation. It’s also present in the stunned faces of the men after their first encounter with The Thing in the dog kennels.

In many ways, these moments represented Morricone’s greatest achievements on this particular project, having found a way to imbue Carpenter’s film with something different and more in keeping with the Italian’s own inimitable approach, while adhering to the director’s expectations. 

It should have been the score to cement Morricone’s place in mainstream Hollywood. Instead, the Maestro would have to wait another two years and another Leone collaboration in 1984’s Once Upon a Time in America, which he bagged a BAFTA for. 

A box office bomb upon release, Roger Ebert infamously called The Thing “a great barf-bag movie” while Vincent Canby in the New York Times said it was “the quintessential moron movie of the 80’s”. 

Incredibly, the film drew a raft of negative reviews (Blade Runner, which was released the same week suffered a similar fate) though none appeared to reference the score specifically. 

Morricone would, however, eventually suffer the indignity of being nominated in the Razzie Awards for Worst Musical Score for his work on the film – though he ended up having the last laugh, and then some. 

In 2016, an 87-year-old Morricone became the oldest competitive winner in Oscar history, taking home the Academy Award for Best Original Score for Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight – a score that included three unused tracks from the Italian’s original soundtrack for The Thing. 

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10 Best Horror Docs Every Horror Fan Should Watch

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There are a number of horror themed documentaries out in the wild and available for your viewing pleasure. Whether you’re in the mood for educating yourself on true crime, hoping to learn the origin of Halloween, or just want a behind-the-scenes peak at one of your favorite horror films you’re sure to find something to satisfy your thirst. Given the great abundance of titles available it would be foolish to try and narrow them down and rank a top 10. But we did it anyway. In an effort to provide FSR readers with a fun variety for this Halloween season, I, along with the assistance of the rest of the Horror Boo Crew, have dug through the pile and pulled out 10 docs we think every horror fan should watch. If you disagree with our choices, make your own list.

Keep reading for a look at 10 horror-themed docs that all horror fans should watch as voted on by Rob Hunter, Kieran Fisher, Brad Gullickson, Meg Shields, Jacob Trussell, and myself.

10. You’re So Cool, Brewster: The Story of Fright Night (2016)

If you have a question about Fright Night, this doc has answers and then some. From casting details, to the ins and outs of every single practical effect, to what the heck kind of monster Billy Cole was — this doc’s got it all. In fact, it’s so relentlessly thorough that even the biggest fan is liable to learn something. I for one get a real kick out of any and all anecdotes from the FX team, who were, at the end of the day, a gaggle of very talented and very coked out kids, “dealing with stupid chemicals in a rather stupid way.” Fright Night is so flagrantly made with love and this doc is a total testament to that. Tom Holland’s inescapably earnest final direct-to camera address is particularly moving. Though, Steve Johnson explaining how he absentmindedly melted the soles of his feet off while neutralizing an acid-soaked puppet is also…evocative. — Meg Shields

9. Why Horror? (2014)

What makes Why Horror? such a rewarding documentary is because the films subject, Tal Zimmerman, is us. He’s an actor and writer for Rue Morgue Magazine, but most prominently: he’s a horror fan. The type that will covet a Foreign Language poster for The Exorcist or search to the bottom of a bin of used VHS tapes in hopes of finding some rare, unique gem. But Why Horror? isn’t about horror films directly, but rather why we are attracted to the macabre. From the anecdotal to the scientific, Zimmerman and co-directors Rob Lindsay and Nicolas Kleiman navigate how multifaceted horror fans are. And while the film may be preaching to the choir that is the die hard horror hounds among us, the film successfully captures the essence of what being a fan of this genre really means. — Jacob Trussell

8. Nightmares in Red, White, and Blue: The Evolution of the American Horror Film (2009)

Horror has been a staple of film since the beginning of cinema. One could argue, and I would be that one, that horror is the most classic of all film genres. While horror films originate from all over the world, no country has had a larger impact or been more synonymous with the genre than America. This documentary rounds up a number of high profile horror icons — Joe Dante, John Carpenter, and George A. Romero to name a few — and provides a rundown of American horror from the earliest silent shorts all the way up to the modern day. It never dives too deep into any one film, but does a wonderful job providing a high level overview of America’s history with the genre. Die-hard horror fanatics and the casual observer are sure to get a kick out of this. — Chris Coffel

7. The Nightmare (2015)

I’ve experienced sleep paralysis before, which could make me biased when it comes to how haunting I find Rodney Ascher’s documentary, The Nightmare. But rather my own personal experiences gives the film a modicum of believability which otherwise I may not have had based on the outlandish stories at the heart of the film. Ascher’s documentary crosscuts these purported real life stories with Lynchian cinematic re-enactments. This blending of fact and fiction is a staple of Ascher’s work, which also includes the Kubrickian collage Room 237 and his television special Primal Screen. While I do think The Nightmare potentially crosses the line when it comes to exploiting some of its subjects, Ascher makes a clear line between himself and his film, actively working against the crutch of so many other documentaries: making himself the subject. — Jacob Trussell

6. Wolfman’s Got Nards (2018)

The Monster Squad was not unleashed upon this world to massive critical acclaim or box office success. In 1987, the film was a dud. Over time, thanks to cable television and VHS, Fred Dekker’s childhood saga of Universal Monster (shhhhhh, don’t tell that studio) hunting grew to vibrant cult status. Wolfman’s Got Nards not only chronicles that surprise journey for the filmmakers and cast but it explores the fans’ point of view as well. In digging into the passion that fuels fanaticism, director André Gower and producer Henry McComas elevate Wolfman’s Got Nards from your basic Blu-ray special feature and into a heartfelt celebration of pop culture. You don’t need to love The Monster Squad to appreciate this documentary, but if you do, you’re gonna deeply cherish the experience. — Brad Gullickson

5. Crystal Lake Memories: The Complete History of Friday the 13th (2013)

Any horror franchise that runs as long as Friday the 13th has is bound to be a mixed bag, but even the lesser entries are fodder for fascinating behind the scenes information. This epic doc tackles each of the films with enthusiasm, detail, and first-hand accounts, and in addition to offering up plenty of new tidbits about the talent, MPAA cuts, production snafus, and more, it’s also entertaining in its own right as an exhaustively well-crafted making-of doc. — Rob Hunter

4. The American Scream (2012)

I love Halloween and always have. It’s been my favorite holiday all my life and for a number of years my family went all out in decorating our house. It wasn’t uncommon for trick-or-treaters to end up hanging outside in our front yard taking in all the festivities. I was convinced no family was more dedicated than ours when it came to Halloween. Then I watched The American Scream and discovered that other families create full on haunted houses. This may have burst my bubble some, but at least I can live vicariously through people that are crazier than I am. For those that have an interest in extreme decorating this is a movie that is a must for every October. — Chris Coffel

3. Best Worst Movie (2009)

The only thing that’s better than Troll 2 is the documentary dedicated to the movie and its legacy. As the title suggests, the doc examines the cultural impact of a movie which many people consider to be the creme de la creme of awesome trash. Personally I think Troll 2 is too unique and weird to be called trash, but whatever. Anyway, the doc is a hilarious and heartwarming celebration of a little movie that’s genuinely beloved by fans and the cast and crew that made it. No one, besides the director, are under any illusions about the kind of movie Troll 2 is. However, this self-awareness and sense of humor is what makes them perfect subjects for a documentary. This is as good as life gets. — Kieran Fisher

2. American Movie (1999)

Small town life doesn’t always present opportunities that enable us to conquer the world, but that didn’t stop Mark Borchardt from giving up on his dreams of becoming a micro-budget horror filmmaker. American Movie follows the aspiring director and his friends as they make a horror movie and all the setbacks that come with it — like having no money or conventional talent. The beauty of the doc, however, is just seeing how these people go about their lives. They don’t seem real, but they are. And they’re hilarious. That said, American Movie is also a sad film about folks who ultimately feel destined to never realize their delusions of grandeur. At the same time, there’s inspiration to be taken from seeing them try to all the same. — Kieran Fisher

1. Never Sleep Again: The Elm Street Legacy (2010)

Wes Craven started something special with A Nightmare on Elm Street as it’s a horror film, and eventual franchise, that gives personality to both its killer and its victims (even if the killer’s charisma wears off pretty quickly through the sequels as Freddy moves from nightmare factory to joke machine). This stellar, in-depth doc explores the franchise’s highs and lows equally with input from more than a hundred people involved in the films’ production, from directors and stars to the wizards who brought the makeup effects to glorious life. It’s an epic film that will fascinate genre fans and Elm Street fans alike as it reveals details, triumphs, and failures with honesty. — Rob Hunter

Go behind the scenes and read more entries in our 31 Days of Horror Lists!

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