Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Happy Thanksgiving!

We'll be back with our regularly scheduled programming next week, but until then... happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy turkey and family and this Thanksgiving horror movie trailer from Grindhouse.



Thursday, November 19, 2015

Exploring Our Fear of the Elderly in The Visit

This post contains spoilers for The Visit.

There’s a wonderful, sad poem by Philip Larkin about our collective fear of the elderly. It’s called “The Old Fools,” and it goes like this (emphasis mine):

What do they think has happened, the old fools,
To make them like this? Do they somehow suppose
It's more grown-up when your mouth hangs open and drools,
And you keep on pissing yourself, and can't remember
Who called this morning? Or that, if they only chose,
They could alter things back to when they danced all night,
Or went to their wedding, or sloped arms some September?
Or do they fancy there's really been no change,
And they've always behaved as if they were crippled or tight,
Or sat through days of thin continuous dreaming
Watching the light move? If they don't (and they can't), it's strange;
                                    Why aren't they screaming?

At death you break up: the bits that were you
Start speeding away from each other for ever
With no one to see. It's only oblivion, true:
We had it before, but then it was going to end,
And was all the time merging with a unique endeavour
To bring to bloom the million-petalled flower
Of being here. Next time you can't pretend
There'll be anything else. And these are the first signs:
Not knowing how, not hearing who, the power
Of choosing gone. Their looks show that they're for it:
Ash hair, toad hands, prune face dried into lines -
                                    How can they ignore it?
           
Perhaps being old is having lighted rooms
Inside you head, and people in them, acting
People you know, yet can't quite name; each looms
Like a deep loss restored, from known doors turning,
Setting down a lamp, smiling from a stair, extracting
A known book from the shelves; or sometimes only
The rooms themselves, chairs and a fire burning,
The blown bush at the window, or the sun's
Faint friendliness on the wall some lonely
Rain-ceased midsummer evening. That is where they live:
Not here and now, but where all happened once.
                                    This is why they give

An air of baffled absence, trying to be there
Yet being here. For the rooms grow farther, leaving
Incompetent cold, the constant wear and tear
Of taken breath, and them crouching below
Extinction's alp, the old fools, never perceiving
How near it is. This must be what keeps them quiet:
The peak that stays in view wherever we go
For them is rising ground. Can they never tell
What is dragging them back, and how it will end? Not at night?
Not when the strangers come? Never, throughout
The whole hideous inverted childhood? Well,
                                    We shall find out.”

(I was going to just post an excerpt, but the poem is so perfect, and so true, that I had to post it all. Really, go back and read it again. Absorb it.)
The poem popped into my head as the credits rolled on The Visit, M. Night Shyamalan’s latest fairytale-cum-horror film about two children visiting their grandparents, alone, for the first time. Much like Larkin’s poem, The Visit uses the imagery of the elderly to provoke frightened and disgusted reactions. Both rely on what seems to be an almost instinctual fear of the elderly. The poem begins haughtily removed in its description of the elderly – “Do they somehow suppose/It's more grown-up when your mouth hangs open and drools”, “Why aren’t they screaming?” – and becomes more empathetic – “That is where they live:/Not here and now, but where all happened once./This is why they give/An air of baffled absence” – and finally, ends in foreboding. Those final lines, “Well, we shall find out,” are like a reprimand and portent for all. You think old people are scary? Just wait until you become one.
The Visit, on the other hand, is decidedly from a child’s perspective, and necessarily less nuanced in its portrayal of elderly characters. It's a found footage-style film, meant to be a documentary-in-progress made by Becca, one of the two grandchildren. Becca’s mother has been estranged from her parents since Becca was born, but the grandparents reach out, asking to meet their grandchildren. Eager to give their mom some alone time with her new boyfriend (the mother has had a litany of failed relationships for as long as the kids can remember), Becca and her younger brother, Tyler, head off on the train to spend a week with the grandparents they’ve never met before.
At the beginning, Nana and Pop Pop are sweet, if timid and a little odd. The kids are told under no uncertain terms to remain in their bedroom after 9:30 each night, and peculiar things begin happening in those dark hours. Time and again, the kids chalk up strange behavior to the grandparents being “old,” a seemingly innocuous word that nevertheless conjures up all manner of clich├ęs and fears. Those fears, it turns out, are not unfounded: Nana careens around the house in the middle of the night like an animal; Pop Pop forgets where he is or thinks a man on the street is following him. The Visit plays to some of our most deeply rooted phobias, from losing our minds to dealing with gross bodily functions. Things escalate over the course of the film, eventually culminating in the reveal of the Big Twist for which Shyamalan is so well known.
Until the very end, I was convinced that something supernatural was going on in The Visit, but there wasn’t. Everything I, and I’m guessing most audience members, interpreted as horrifying were merely symptoms – normal, albeit unhappy, symptoms – of aging. Everything the characters of Nana and Pop Pop did was something that could happen in real life to a person with Alzheimer’s or dementia, or merely a body ravaged by time. From incontinence, to odd behavior and “sundowning,” to accidentally flashing naked body parts – parts made disturbing only by the fact that they’re somewhat wrinklier than our own naked body parts – these are all the little indignities the elderly may experience on a regular basis. They’re things the majority of us should be used to, since we all have grandparents, aging parents, and older relatives – but we’re not, not necessarily. When you think about it, it’s almost shockingly easy to frighten us when it comes to the elderly.
Perhaps The Visit owes some of its sheer terror to the fact that the audience is seeing it through a child’s eyes. After all, who among us was never at least a little scared of that one relative as a child? You know, the one with the gaudy makeup who smelled weird and left slimy kisses on your cheek? Or the grouchy, liver-spotted grandpa who yelled and pounded his cane on the floor when he made you bring him his coffee? There certainly is a visceral aspect to our fear of the elderly, but I do think it’s more than that. Maybe it’s because we tend to hold the elderly at a distance, even as we grow up; we put them away in homes to be cared for by low-paid workers (signaling that it’s not important, worthwhile work), we don’t often ask them about their feelings or experiences, and too many of us don’t make the effort to connect with them on a meaningful level. As a society, Americans would rather ship off citizens of a certain age than face what is a consistently growing part of our population.
This is all the more troubling when you consider that other countries surpass us so completely in their respect for and treatment of older people. In Japan, there is a national holiday, “Respect for the Aged Day,” that puts America’s (largely ignored) “Grandparents Day” to shame; in Vietnam, elders are recognized as the carriers of tradition, knowledge, and wisdom. And we’re not only ignoble in how we view our elderly; Americans seem alarmingly uninterested in making sure the elderly are properly cared for, both physically and emotionally. While we often lock our aged citizens away in nursing homes with poor conditions and little mental stimulation or human companionship, other countries are searching for more humane solutions. An experimental facility for people with dementia now exists in the Netherlands, where the people living there are free to roam the self-contained, and completely safe, “village.” The residents are able to live as normally and independently as they wish while still remaining looked after. Meanwhile, we Americans struggle to meet the growing demand for caretakers, and continue to undervalue the work of the ones we have.
Maybe it is simply, as Larkin said, that we see our own lonely, addled futures in the elderly. (A recent poll showed that although 70 percent of Americans will likely need long-term care as they age, one-third of those polled said they'd rather not prepare or think about it at all.) But if so, how long can we pretend that “out of sight, out of mind” is a valid or useful response? The elderly population in the U.S. is expected to nearly double in the next 20 years, and it’s obvious we need to find better ways of dealing with that. Giving the elderly a little respect and a voice of their own would be a good start. Until then, movies like The Visit will continue to haunt us in more ways than one.


Thursday, November 12, 2015

Revisiting The Crow: Wicked Prayer

It’s funny how time works. When I picture myself in high school, I don’t think myself as being terribly young. I mean, I don’t usually feel like me ten years ago was that different from me now. I guess it’s kind of like how you don’t notice your parents aging, because you see them all the time and so the differences are really subtle, but then suddenly one day you look at a picture of your dad from fifteen years ago, and you look at the dad standing in front of you, and you’re like, “Wow. You do look a little different.” No offense, Dad. You still look great.

Anyway, my point is that I must have changed sometime in the last ten years, because apparently The Crow: Wicked Prayer came out when I was 16 or 17 years old – at an age when, before coming to this realization, I would have claimed to have had some measure of taste – and I liked it. Before rewatching this film, I was positive that I was only, like, 13 when I last saw it, and I assumed that accounted for my incomprehensible love of it. But no. It turns out I was just much, much stupider at 16 than I knew. Which doesn’t help me come to terms with the intense crush I had on Edward Furlong at the time. At all.

I never saw the original The Crow, so I have no idea how Wicked Prayer relates, aside from the makeup choices. I will say that you don’t need to have seen the original, or any of its sequels, to appreciate the fourth and final installment. This movie stands all on its own. So let’s get started.

It opens with a satanic biker gang breaking its leader, Luc “Death” Crash (David Boreanaz, yes), out of prison. Although that nickname may not seem very clever, it's made even less so by the fact that Luc’s henchmen are named “Pestilence,” “Famine,” and “War.” Get it? And they’re introduced with screenshots like this:
In a good movie, that might be a stylish choice. I won’t go into all the reasons why it’s stupid here. Luc’s girlfriend, played by early 00s queen Tara Reid, also helps, and her name is Lola Byrne, which I like. Another great little detail is that Luc was wearing his regular rave wear underneath his prison uniform:
It’s kind of perfect, since it makes no sense at all, just like the rest of this movie.

Cut to Jimmy Cuervo (his real name, I guess), played by the baggy-eyed, sideburn-toting Edward Furlong of my adolescent dreams. Jimmy was recently paroled after beating a rapist to death. Take note, because this is exactly the kind of tortured/sensitive character trait that my 16-year-old self ate up. Jimmy is in love with Lily, played by Emmanuelle Chriqui, who I also kind of had a crush on. This scene was therefore much racier in my head than in reality:
Who among us doesn't feel our hearts pounding a little harder at the thought of kissing a dirt-covered, be-mulleted Edward Furlong behind a trailer? I ask you.

Back to the satanic cult. For some reason, they decide to kill Lily and Jimmy in a satanic ritual (the word “satanic” is going to come up a lot in this post, and I refuse to cut it out, because the movie never lets you forget that these are satanists we’re dealing with here). I don’t know if it has to be Jimmy and Lily, or if they’re just unlucky, but I lost my train of thought for at least ten minutes around this part. So they hang them, then cut out Lily’s eyes (to give Lola the power to see the future) and Jimmy’s heart (to conjure up the Devil, and also give Luc super powers?). The group is really into masks, so Lola wears this one:
And Luc wears one, too, but I’m more interested in that shirt:
So they do the thing and dump the bodies in a freezer and think it’s all good now that they’ve called up the Antichrist or whatever. Little do they know, a crow is about to resurrect Jimmy from the dead. I don’t know why, but I’m not going to question a crow’s motives. Coming back from the dead is clearly a bitch, because Jimmy makes this face:
…and proceeds to freak out when he sees his dead girlfriend, understandably. He takes Lily’s body back to her trailer, and he gets real mad along the way and decides to carry out some vengeance. Then he sees this picture on the fridge (which shows the entirety of his "costume" for some local festival - some stripes on his eyes) and is like, “Imma put on some cool makeup before I do my vengeance thang.”
And this is when I fell in love with weird, skinny-sad goth guys for the first time:
Hot. (I mean… kind of. I still think so. Sort of. You can’t help who you love.)

Jimmy goes and kills Pestilence (I’m not going to delve too far into some of these plot points, as there is so much more that is ripe for delving into), then he steals Lily’s body and buries it under their special tree into which he carved their initials. Aw. Next he goes to confront Luc, who’s having a nice dinner with Lola, wearing a construction paper hat that it looks like a four-year-old made for him:
This satanist group loves feathers and shit. And Lola loves the hair pouf that I remember being really trendy at my high school around that time. A big fight between Jimmy and Luc ensues, and we’re treated to some of Tara Reid’s best acting:
I hate to mock her too mercilessly, because she is such a darling of a certain time and I loved her in Urban Legend, but... it is what it is.

Luc thinks he’s killed Jimmy, so he and Lola go off to meet some guy in a satanic church slash night club, and it turns out it’s Dennis Hopper in a fur coat.
I mean, why not. It’s not that far off from his character in Blue Velvet. Oh, and I’d be remiss not to mention that Macy Gray is in this one scene because, again, why not.

Luc needs El Nino to marry him and Lola (I don’t know why, but evidently it will bring Luc closer to Satan), so some women in lingerie and cat ears wash him…
…and put Lola in this lovely goth wedding outfit:
I really do love some of the costumes. Tara Reid looks A+ here. Though I’m less enthused about Luc’s western bolero-esque jacket, which I don’t find satanic enough.

The wedding ceremony makes Luc into a vessel for the Devil himself, and I guess they don’t need El Nino anymore, so Lola kills him. She gets real mad, too:
Meanwhile, some stuff has been going on with Lily’s brother and father, who originally thought Jimmy killed her. They find out he didn’t, so they do a weird shirtless dance to give Jimmy more power so he can defeat Luc.
Meanwhile meanwhile, Lola is trying really hard to get Luc to consummate their marriage, otherwise this whole Devil thing will go away and, in Lola’s words, “If the sun comes up and the spell isn’t done, you’ll go back to being a useless punk and I’ll go back to being white trash!” Poor Lola. If we didn’t know she had low self esteem before, we do now.

Unfortunately for her, Jimmy arrives right as she and Luc are about to get it on. Luc buttons up his pants and says my favorite line from the entire movie: “The Dark Prince was almost crowned, baby!” He says it with a lot of gusto.
Jimmy and Luc fight, yet again (action-y fights are really not my thing, so I was losing patience at this point), and Jimmy finally wins. He impales Luc on some spiky branches or fences or something, then slits his throat after saying a speech. Lola sees the sun coming up and knows it’s all white trash, all the time from here on out. She’s rightfully upset:
She puts on her sunglasses and goes to cry in a field.
Having finished up the revenge stuff, Jimmy no longer has a purpose, so he goes to sit on a swing under his special tree. This kind of wistful, pained look was all I wanted from my boyfriend back then:
Luckily, Lily’s spirit finds Jimmy and they’re reunited forever. Aw.
So yeah. You've just witnessed a little piece of my history. Of all our history, really. Because there's no erasing The Crow: Wicked Prayer from our collective cultural memory. And really, would we want to? Well.

Monday, November 2, 2015

31 Horror Films in 31 Days Challenge - Second Half Highlights


So we've come to the end of October, the end of the #31HorrorFilms31Days Challenge... and pretty much the most depressing day of my year. Christmas decorations had already begun to creep into my beloved Halloween aisle weeks ago, and now there's nothing to stop the onslaught! Ugh. At least we'll always have these memories... (scroll over the images in the slideshow to read my tweets about each movie).

Instant Classics. The second half of October was good to me - there were some really excellent new films that came out, my favorites being Deathgasm, Crimson Peak, and Bone Tomahawk. Deathgasm was fun, fast-paced, and full of gore, plus I loved the metalhead angle. It also featured some truly lovable characters; Brodie and tough-as-nails Medina are my new favorite horror couple. Crimson Peak was a good old-fashioned gothic romance with beyond gorgeous sets and buckets of atmosphere. Jessica Chastain was a revelation, and whoever said she was miscast in Mama because she can't pull off a goth(ic) chick... well, I think this proves otherwise. Finally, Bone Tomahawk was exactly the horror western I've been waiting for - gritty and gory and full of Kurt Russell. It scratched an itch that desperately needed scratching.

Top of the Barrel. There were a few others I really liked that I'd never seen before, some of which fell just short of being instant classics for me: Wyrmwood (fun and original, if a little scattered), Trouble Every Day (meandering but worthwhile), and Ravenous (I didn't love it like I hoped I would, but it was still a good watch).

Oldies But Goodies. As usual, I couldn't help but indulge in some favorites I'd already seen: Burying the Ex (dude, I like it), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (plus a bunch of extras from the 40th anniversary DVD, which were great), Super 8 (okay, not exactly a horror movie, but... it has aliens and zombies, sort of, so I'm counting it), We Are What We Are (I love this movie), and Trick 'R Treat (the ultimate Halloween movie, hands down).

The Meh. These weren't necessarily bad, they just didn't hit enough of the right notes: The Stranger (I liked how nihilistic it felt, but it was overall a little dull), Suspension (larger review here), See No Evil 2 (let's be real, I only watched it for Danielle Harris and Katherine Isabelle, so it was worth it), and Dark Was the Night (just... okay). Oh, and Dead Silence, which I've seen before and knew I didn't like much, but... that old lady really does freak me out.

The Uggggh. There was only one movie I truly hated, and that was The Gallows. It checked off every found footage cliche that I hate, so much so that I even refuse to waste my time going into detail. Just... ugh.

So that's it. We've come to the end. So sad. Do me a solid and regale me with tales of your favorite October watches so I can pretend it's not over yet! Until next year.

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