Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior (1981), directed by George Miller

The Trailer
and
The Appropriate Tune: "I Was A Kamikaze Pilot", by Hoodoo Gurus

       I don’t know if I’m just being sentimental or what, but I guess that ‘familiar faces’ label that I stuck on the last Marathon decided to stick around to see the new year as well. First it was the return of James Bond to the blogging arena, something that had been foreshadowed at the very dawn of this blog, and after a short detour to flip the bird to Billy Mitchell, we’re returning to another movie series that had seemingly fallen to the wayside: Mad Max. If I wanted to seem ominous I’d say I was tying up some loose ends, but in reality it was a spur of the moment thing. It was either going to be this or Monkeybone, to give you a sense if the high stakes gambling we were dealing with here. Sorry Brendan Fraser, you’re going to have to take a rain check.

Anyway, about five years ago (which is depressing just thinking about it) I covered the patriarch of the Mad Max series, 1979’s Mad Max, a film that I really, really did not like. For a movie that revolved around muscle cars and motorcycles the plot felt interminably slow, full of characters that I did not care about and the barest modicum of action slotted in at the very end. Then a year later I covered 2015’s Mad Max: Fury Road, a film that I really, really did like. A total dark horse champion at the time that in all honesty should have redefined the way filmmakers approach action sequences in film, while also managing to tell a coherent, entertaining narrative. With such a huge disparity between the two films I was reluctant to bring a new film into the fold, one which would tip the scales and determine whether this series was ultimately good or bad. Was Fury Road the exception to a rule, or was Mad Max just a rocky start? Well it’s right about time that we find out.

The world is fucked. Mankind just couldn’t keep their hands out of the M.A.D. jar and civilization has collapsed, along with most of the ecosystem, although that might just be what Australia looks like. What last pockets of humanity remain either try to band together into communities, or join the vicious bands of marauders that roam the wasteland, but they’re all fighting and dying for one thing: Gasoline. As automobiles have become the backbone of this society, a vital tool of trade and war, petrol has become the lifeblood allowing it to function. To have gas is to have freedom and to own it is power, and in this hell both of those options are worth killing over. Especially when everyone around you is trying to kill you first.

Max is a man racing against the demons of his past, something that’s difficult to do when you’re living in hell. While scavenging for supplies he ends up in the middle of a conflict between the tribe of Gastown, so named because it was jury-rigged from an abandoned oil well, and a gang of leather-strapped S&M bandits led by the Ayatollah of Rock ‘N’ Rolla himself, The Humungus. Humungus wants that sweet sweet guzzolene, and he and his war dogs have been making some incredibly subtle requests for it; Holding day-long battle practice outside their main gate, killing and/or raping every person who tries to leave Gastown in search of trade, using hostages as living hood ornaments, that sort of thing. Sensing an opportunity for personal gain and having previously run afoul of one of Humungus’ men, Max decides to temporarily ally himself with the people of Gastown and pick them up a transport truck so they can hail their ass and their gas out of there. Things go about as well as you’d expect whenever you throw an army of heavily-armed gimps into the mix, and Max quickly finds himself way more involved than he ever wanted.

The Road Warrior approaches being a sequel in much the same way as Fury Road would do in the future, in that it’s not really a ‘sequel’ at all. There’s some clips of of the first film as I mentioned, but aside from the setting and the character of Max Mad Max 2 doesn’t really relate to Mad Max at all. A bit odd in these days of vast overarching narratives spanning dozens of films, but in the case of Mad Max 2 I actually prefer it that way. Not just because I didn’t like the original Mad Max, but because it allows for simple, adaptable storytelling. You didn’t need the entire backstory of Akira Kurosawa’s Yojimbo, or half the film dedicated to how Clint Eastwood’s character in The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly learned to shoot a pistol, because the stories explain themselves. There’s a village plagued by a gang of thieves, a hero comes and vanquishes the thieves, and the villagers are happy. It’s a plot that could take place in the dystopian Australian outback or feudal Japan with no real issues, and I like that because it helps make that hero feel almost timeless. This is not Max, the rogue cop on the edge from the last film. This is The Road Warrior, a being more of myth than of man.

This belief is aided by the fact that George Miller had attained a far greater sense for action by his second ever feature film. The car combat that blew audiences away in Fury Road got its start here, a little less high-octane but just as technically impressive and dangerous looking as ever. It brings to mind images of privateers attacking supply ships or whaling expeditions, the target struggling for life as the pack slowly whittle it down, a slow burn kind of tension that is contrasted nicely by the general speed of the action. Getting to see some sick explosions and cars getting demolished is fun too, a couple folks getting set on fire, but it’s the vehicle battles that are the centerpiece of Mad Max 2.

As for cons, there’s not really much in the way of interesting characters. Memorable characters sure, I’d say The Humungus and his crew fit that bill, but characters that I grew attached to on an emotional level? Max is badass, yeah, but that’s primarily when he’s driving something. Everyone else feels just kind of there, you know? They throw in the Feral Child to try and soften up Max but I just really didn’t see any chemistry chemistry. The Gyro Captain, played by Bruce Spence, is pretty great though I must admit. At the very least he gives you something to focus on while looking at ol’ Mel the Bigot’s one expression through the first half of the film, and you have to credit for that.

I also wasn’t blown away by the score of the film, composed by Brian May. It’s an effective score, but I never really took notice at any point that I can remember. Which is arguably one of the major points of music in film, that it not take precedence over what’s on the screen, but I expected a bit more from a member of a rock band famous for extremely catchy, often operatic songs which sometimes involved cars. 

       Mad Max 2 is the film that made the series a household name, and it’s the film that first made you wonder why studios ended up sticking George Miller with Babe: Pig in the City rather than just dumping money on him so he could make more leather daddy apocalypse flicks. Too much of a good thing I suppose. While Fury Road is still number one in my heart, if you’re at all interested in understanding all this weirdness then this is the movie to check out. Maybe the only other movie to check out, because it’ll probably be another five years until I check out Beyond Thunderdome. Until then, make sure you stock up on guzzolene and canned dog food. For the future. 

The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters (2007), directed by Seth Gordon

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "Donkey Kong Rap", by Grant Kirkhope

       These days video games are a pretty big deal. They’ve got their own conventions and trade shows, people make thousands of dollars screaming at them on youtube, and  games like Starcraft and League of Legends are even placed on a level approaching soccer and baseball with managers and corporate sponsors (although they all seem equally tiresome to attempt watching).  Back in the day however, when games came in boxes the size of refrigerators and Super Mario Brothers: The Movie was still a twinkle in Shigeru Miyamoto’s eye, video games were the domain of hobbyists (ie nerds) and especially the concept of competitive gaming, which at the time centered around high scores. The media at the time certainly didn’t give a shit, so if you were able to get them to say you the greatest at Pac-Man or Tapper, then that was what you were. There was no proper oversight committee, no real verification process, it was a wild frontier where some could craft whatever image of themselves that they wanted. Which some did.

And then later some folks made a movie about it.

On its surface The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters is a movie about video games. The arcade classics to be precise, Galaga, Space Invaders, Centipede, and of course Donkey Kong. At its heart though, it’s about two men who play arcade games. On one side is Billy Mitchell, a man who at 17 got 825,000 points in Donkey Kong, then the world record, and transitioned it into the most minor of celebrity status. On the other is Steve Wiebe; Former student, family man, school teacher, and a man who managed to film himself not only breaking Billy’s 22 year old record but scoring over one million points in one game. This naturally draws the attention of the competitive arcade gaming community, and that of King Geek himself Billy Mitchell, who’s none too happy about it. Lies, conspiracies and controversies abound as Steve Wiebe struggles to reach the mountaintop, kept at bay at every turn by the machinations  of Billy Mitchell, for about the lowest possible stakes you can imagine. By the end of this film, you will believe a portly Italian man with a mustache can jump.

Perhaps I’ve watched too much Trailer Park Boys or Parks & Recreation in my time, but watching The King of Kong there’s this intense atmosphere of surreality that exudes from it. I mean you’ll see the constant upselling of arcade games like they’re high art, or watch people behaving like blatantly petty sycophants, hear the by 2019 standards stereotypically cheezy soundtrack (including Eye of the Tiger obviously) or just listen to Billy for about two seconds and it’s easy to forget that these are actual people and not Seth Gordon trying to rip off The Office. Even ol’ Wiebe, our audience surrogate, seems to be the universe’s punching bag in a way not entirely unlike your typical Brit-comedy protagonist. The utter lack of self-awareness brings to mind another popular documentary film of the era, Sacha Baron Cohen’s Borat, although not nearly as crude or  racist. Although the competitive arcade gaming community isn’t exactly the most diverse in the world either, going off of this film.

Of course, the primary reason one might want to watch A Fistful of Quarters is the reason why you wouldn’t bother: Billy Mitchell. Everything about this guy seems to have been constructed in a lab to be as unlikable as humanly possible. From his hang-dog cromagnon features, his tacky ties, to his tone deaf narcissism as he strokes his ego or puts down others, it goes beyond the common ‘love to hate him’ dynamic that we’re all familiar with and steps into ‘actually fuck this guy’. That it was eventually revealed years after the release of this film that Mitchell cheated should come as no surprise, because throughout the entirety of The King of Kong he is painted as a man of supreme cowardice, who has built up an army of unquestioning bootlickers in order to protect his fragile ego. That this film didn’t end with Steven Wiebe saying ‘fuck Donkey Kong’ and deciding to stomp Mitchell’s giant bearded face into the pavement after all the shit he was put through is its greatest tragedy.

If you’ve seen Borat or Waiting for Guffman and you’ve been hungry for some more of that kind of insular weirdness, of if you’ve got this sick wish to see if Billy Mitchell really is as shitty as I’m building him up to be, then The King of Kong might scratch that itch for you. With arcades being more or less nonexistent in the U.S. these days and the turn of the 21st century technology on display you could even see it as something of a nostalgia trip movie for these modern times. However it’s also on the far side of anything really dramatic, and even for a 90 minute film it feels like the filmmakers are forced to pad things out to keep you from noticing that barely anything is going on. In some ways I suppose that increases that surreal atmosphere I mentioned earlier, yet as with the other documentaries I’ve reviewed in the past I feel as if I’m at a loss for anything more to say. Avoid the barrels if you can, avoid the movie if you want.

On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969), directed by Peter Hunt

The Trailer
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The Appropriate Tune: "Cross Country Skiing", by Heidecker and Wood

       I might have mentioned it before, but I’m not exactly the biggest James Bond fan in the world. Even before I found the idea of glorifying state-sponsored murder rather distasteful, there was always something about the franchise that I found very manufactured. That Bond always had to have the fancy cars and suits, that women had to throw themselves at him at every opportunity, it all seemed rather dull to me. Laughable even, although growing up in Austin Powers might have helped that along a bit.  That James Bond was the pinnacle of manliness, the ideal male power fantasy, ultimately seemed embarrassing to me because it apparently meant that men peaked at 14 years old. Might as have the next Bond film be about 007 arguing about pewdiepie in a youtube video comment section and finally complete the cycle. Theme song by Beyonce.

Way back near the dawn of this blog I actually covered another Bond film, 1987’s The Living Daylights, starring Timothy Dalton. A rather unfortunate fate, those Dalton-Bond era films; An attempt at a darker, more serious take on the character in reaction to the goofier Roger Moore era films that was abandoned after two films for the slightly less goofy Pierce Brosnan era, and sort of forgotten afterwards. Arguably not the fate they deserve, although I recall Daylights as being rather dry, but at the end of that review I mentioned that one day I would be covering a movie that some people might wish they could forget. The black sheep of the franchise, aside from all those other shitty ones of course. I’m talking, of course, about On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.

While out on his regular international jaunt, secret agent James Bond ends up saving the life of a strange, beautiful woman who is trying to drown herself at sea. The woman as it turns out is the Contessa Theresa Di Vincenzo, the strong-willed daughter of Draco Di Vincenzo, local industry magnate/crime boss. Draco’s idea of helping his daughter’s sense of well-being is paying some dude she just met to have sex with her, and having sex with women he barely knows is Bond’s whole thing. More importantly though, 007 is looking for information on the location of one Ernst Stavro Blofeld, international criminal mastermind and known lover of white cats. Blofeld has been in hiding for a while now, but the rumblings through the underworld seem to place him getting some shenanigans in Switzerland. Shenanigans which, if successful, could spell the end for millions of lives and the global economy. Which probably isn’t good, so it’s up to James Bond to save the day in his very special way.

So let’s start with the elephant in the room: James Bond himself. After Sean Connery decided to depart the series, the powers-that-be decided to bring in former model George Lazenby to fill the role. Not a bad idea necessarily -- While he didn’t have Connery’s rugged charisma, Lazenby literally had the skills to pay the bills in the looks department, and his youthful energy (Lazenby was only 29 when this movie came out) meant that he had the physicality for the role. The money they could potentially save by slotting in a young fresh replacement for Connery in their franchise and low balling him on the contract likely also had a hand in the decision.   

Then he decides to talk.

Now you could pin the blame on inexperience (this was Lazenby’s debut film), or the fact that we was segregated from the rest of the cast during filming, leading to some onscreen and offscreen tension between him and the cast, but the fact is the moment he opens his mouth all that charisma fades away. The man has an astounding lack of range, it’s as if they had someone run through the entire film and physically mix his audio to be as passive as possible. Good enough, but still not great, when Lazenby needs to put on the Bond charm, but when he needs to have some emotional range (which this script explicitly calls for) it’s like you’re transported back to a high school drama class. When  you’ve got not only the series regulars but actors like Diana Rigg and Telly Savalas, Lazenby seems almost a second wheel in his own damn movie. He’s James Bond sure, he does all the James Bond things, but through every action sequence and every one liner you get the sense that there should be an asterisk every time his name pops up in the script. I’d almost feel bad for him if he wasn’t a millionaire actor/former model.

       Speaking of Mr. Kojak, I have to say that Blofeld might be my favorite character in the film. Clearly evil, clearly the villain, performed in a very calm, understated way. You can see why they decided to base their design of Lex Luthor on Savalas when they were working on Superman: The Animated Series. You could totally believe that this dude is bad enough and smart enough to pose a threat to the Man of Steel. That we never got Telly Savalas as Luthor in the Superman films is actually a bit of a shame, now that I've finally seen him as Blofeld.

I’m also not a huge fan of how the story is structured. The film is over two hours long in total, the first hour being dedicated to the Bond/Tracy relationship, and the second to Blofeld’s virus plot, eventually crossing by the end. It works, in the same way that a rock works as a hammer, but at the same time the two plots feel very disconnected from each other. That Tracy just so happens to be Draco’s daughter, who just so happens to be the one person who can point out the whereabouts of Blofeld seems a bit convenient even for a dumb action movie, as is Tracy’s deus ex machina return to the plot near the end, which seems to only exist in order to remind us that she still exists. Even though the last hour of the movie you just watched didn’t even acknowledge her existence until that moment and had Bond do his normal banging random women routine, and that we’re basing a ‘one true love’ relationship on about two weeks and a montage. It feels like you need more development on the romance but it’s the Blofeld section that the audience came to see, so you’ve got the odd situation of a two and a half hour movie feeling cramped and rushed at the same time.

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service does find time to squeeze in some old fashioned racism and misogyny though. Whether it’s having the only Black woman in the film eating a dinner consisting solely of bananas, or Tracy’s father basically stating that she needs to get over the death of her mother by being fucked into submissiveness (and of course both he and Bond get a chance to sucker punch her), it’s just enough to remind you that the 007 franchise has always been pretty lame. That Tracy gets one scene where barely manages to fend off a single guard doesn’t really change much. And yeah, it being ‘a different time’ doesn’t either.

If there’s one thing I’ll give the movie though, it’s in its setting. Portugal looks okay, but once the film transitions to Switzerland it gets downright lovely. The filmmakers knew it too, because we get a whole bunch of snow-related stuff. Aerial shots of the Alps, open vistas, the  skiing scenes (which feel about three hours long) and for some reason a fight scene that takes place in a bobsled. No one ever seems all that cold, despite things like being buried under snow for minutes at a time, but I guess it wouldn’t be the ultimate male power fantasy if 007’s dick fell off from frostbite. I’m not even remotely interested in skiing and it made me want to visit the Swiss Alps, which was probably the point. Even if Bond fans weren’t happy with this movie, I’m sure the Swiss Tourism Bureau was.

Lastly, the music. Not much to say on that front, except that for some reason it seems like they added a synthesizer or some kind of electric organ to the Bond theme. It ended up making it sound tinny and rather unpleasant to the ears, but it only really comes up during the beginning and the ending so it’s forgivable. Not sure why you would even want to mess around with one of the most recognizable pieces of music in Western cinema, to be honest, seems like an unnecessary risk. Just give the audience the horns and shit and you’re golden.

On Her Majesty’s Service has an easy enough story and decent action, but given what they were aiming for, the new face of the franchise, an attempt at pathos, it falls short of expectations. Certainly watchable, it’s not the worst movie I’ve ever seen by a long shot, but at the same time I’m no more a Bond fan after watching it as when I started. Give it a shot if you’re feeling so inclined, but it’s not really a priority viewing. 

James Bond Will Return 

In

Never Say Never Again

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2018: Phenomena (1985), directed by Dario Argento

And another one Bites Za Dusto. You know this blog has been around for 5 years now and every year I think that this is going to be the time when I close up shop for good, and yet I keep pressing on. I don't know if it's determination or a paralyzing fear of what I would do with my time without it, but whatever the case it does give me an excuse to try out new things, and that's a crux of the human experience, right? I dunno. Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed the list this year, I hope that I gave you an excuse to try out something new as well, and I hope you join me again next year for another 31 days of scares and spoops. See ya then!

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "Flash of the Blade" by Iron Maiden

       The last time we saw a film by Dario Argento on the Marathon (Tenebrae, back in Marathon ‘14), I started off the article by dedicating entire first paragraph to insulting the country of Italy. In retrospect this was probably not the best foot to start off on, but I suppose I did it because I feel a kinship with that Mediterranean boot. Both Italy and my country of of origin are nation stitched together by bloody conflict, after all. Both have an issues between the northern and southern halves. Both are plagued by fascists. Both love cheese. When I pointed a finger at Italy I was really pointing a finger at myself, as a first student psychology major would say. So to make it up to Italians everywhere it seems only right that 4 years after the first proper Long Dark Marathon of the Soul, 4 years after Tenebrae, that we return to the works of Mr. Agento with an older, potentially wiser eye. And yeah I could have done that with everyone on the ‘14 list but I didn’t feel like it.

       It’s once upon a time, as these stories go, and Ms. Clocktower herself Jennifer Corvino (played by Rocketeer actress Jennifer Connelly), daughter of the actor Paul Corvino, is being shipped to the Richard Wagner International School for Girls located near Zurich. This place, colloquially known as the ‘Swiss Transylvania’ for the eerie winds that come down from the Alps, has been terrorized by a mysterious serial killer who seems to only target teenage girls. Which doesn’t really bother Jennifer all that much, until during a strange sleepwalking session she happens to stumble across a murder taking place. She’s also not sure if the murderer, whoever they are, ended up seeing her that night, which isn’t the best position you want to be in when it comes to serial killers. But what can she, a young girl in a foreign land, possibly do? And where does her bizarre affinity with insects fit into it?

       Phenomena, is a giallo film, a term which in this neck of woods (ie wikipedia) refers to a particular type of thriller (with elements of horror and eroticism to taste) film that evolved out of cheap pulp magazines popular in Italy in the post-war period, much in the same way as film noir in the U.S. has its origins in the stories of Mickey Spillane and Raymond Chandler. Jumping onto the film scene as far back as 1963, giallo could be considered to be an ancestor of the slasher genre, and much like slasher movies dominated the 70s and 80s before collapsing. Much in the same way as the arc of Dario Argento’s career if we’re being brutally honest, which began in the 60s, exploded in the 70s (1970 was the year of his directorial debut, to be precise), and in modern times is commonly associated with poorly made dreck.

       By 1985 Argento was around the tail end of his Golden Age, but in Phenomena you can see the elements of what made him popular. The bizarre and grotesque imagery, clear and concise editing, the beautiful scenery, expert shots and of course all of that over-the-top violence. While not as visually impressive as his film Suspiria (from what I’ve seen of Suspiria anyway), you still see in Phenomena a film that’s a cut above many of its peers in terms of cinematography. Which may not seem all that impressive on paper, but we’ve all seen movies, especially horror movies, where much of the time is spent trying to figure out what the hell is happening on screen. Simple and clean.

       As I said Jennifer Connelly is the star, her first starring role in only her second film. She does a pretty okay job for a 15 year old, although she does seem a bit wooden at times, whether from the direction, the language barrier or her inexperience it’s hard to tell. We’ve also got Donald Pleasence to take a break from doing Halloween movies to do some stuff here. He puts on a good performance as you’d expect, although ultimately doesn’t really get to do much, which seems a bit of waste. Everyone else I can’t really speak much about, although we do have longtime Argento actress/girlfriend Daria Nicolodi as the teacher Frau Bruckner, who does so little for so long in the film that I’m almost certain you don’t actually hear her name spoken aloud until the last 25 minutes, and even then only once. When she actually gets a chance to speak she’s one of the more expressive members of the cast, and that includes the ones being stabbed by a javelin.

       The problem I arrive at, however, is the same one I faced when it came to Tenebrae: it’s too silly. Giallo, from what little I’ve been exposed to is a film style built on big emotions, but Argento here seems to have taken melodrama and pushed it into the realms of absurdity. What starts out as a relatively normal mystery-thriller with slight supernatural elements and then gets increasingly more bizarre and chaotic, to the point where the climax of the film seems feels so random that it feels like it’s from another movie. No to mention all the odd character behavior, the assistant chimpanzees, the out-of-nowhere claim that insects have ESP, it’s such an overload that a sense of drama is lost. I mean if things are just going to happen with no explanation then you can’t really invest yourself in it, you’re just kind of stuck on a haunted house ride that doesn’t quite have enough material to last the time it takes to experience. Not that I could really empathize with a 15 year old rich daughter of a movie star with psychic bug powers anyway, but you get the idea.

       The eclecticism seems to have affected the music as well. We of course have Goblin, mainstays of film soundtracks, as well as cameos by Iron Maiden and Motorhead, and despite it being good heavy stuff it also lacks nuance. That pulse-pounding, heavy prog rock is perfect during the scenes where the killer is tracking their victims, but then they also have scenes where they’ve got a blazing Iron Maiden playing over Jennifer fiddling over a doorknob. Constantly. Compare it to the soundtrack work of people like John Carpenter, subtle and yet often iconic, and Phenomena feels like the audio equivalent of a drunk bull in a china shop. Heavy, but lacks nuance.

       Generally speaking though, Phenomena does its job of keeping you more or less entertained the entire way through, so I’m going it the thumbs-up for recommendation. It’s weird and silly, but weird and silly is what 80’s horror movies were built on, and at the very least Phenomena looks good while doing it. So if you were a fan of The Believers or Sleepaway Camp that we covered previously on this list then there is probably going to be something you like here. Grab some friends, grab some snacks and the movie and have yourself a fun time.


HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2014: Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht (1979), directed by Werner Herzog

     

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "Nosferatu Man", by Slint

     Out of all the monsters on this list, all the aliens and zombies and lovecraftian horrors, there is one creature who stands above them all as the absolute king of the creeps: Dracula. Often based on the historical figure Vlad III or ‘Vlad the Impaler’, the infamously brutal ruler of Wallachia in what is now known as Romania, the king of the shadows first appeared as the antagonist in Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel Dracula. Even though Stoker’s novel was not the first to feature vampires, nor was it all that successful when it was released, Dracula has gone on to become of the most significant pieces of horror literature of all time, and the Count has been propelled into pop culture stardom. And all without sparkling in the sun like some kind of asshole.

      Although the Dracula novel is obviously quite important, there’s no doubt that a lot of the popularity for the character came through film. The 1931 Universal Dracula starring Bela Lugosi is by far the most iconic form of the famous vampire with the 1958 Hammer Films Dracula starring Christopher Lee coming close behind, and he’s been in hundreds of movies ever since, including one that came out recently known as Dracula Untold, which has been rumoured to be the beginning of a monster equivalent of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (not sure how that would work, but whatever). With all these movies, there are so many different iterations of Dracula that films that address the original story are probably in the minority. So in the spirit of Halloween, I’ve decided to honor everyone’s favorite corpse by making the last film on my Long Dark Marathon of the Soul one all about Count Dracula.  Because why the hell not?

      Directed by Werner Herzog (Fitzcarraldo, Grizzly Man), Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht comprises the entirety of Herzog’s feature-length foray into the horror genre. Though several things are altered from the original book (the film takes places in Wismar, Germany rather than London, Harker’s wife is now Lucy rather Mina and there are no ‘Brides’), the basic premise is the same: Jonathan Harker is sent by his employer to Transylvania to meet one Count Dracula (Herzog regular Klaus Kinski, whose design in the film closely resembles that of Max Schreck in the 1922 silent film Nosferatu), who is looking to purchase a house in the area. While there, Jon and Dracula have several incredibly awkward conversations about the night and the inevitable passage of time, and Jon suspects that this deathly pale man with long claws and a bat face might in fact be das vampyr. Jon’s suspicion turns to fear when Dracula discovers a picture of Lucy and becomes enraptured by her beauty, which is not the kind of attitude you want for a guy who lives next to your wife. He tries to escape but fails, and Dracula makes his way to Wismar. How will Lucy and Jon contend with the forces at the night nipping at their heels? Will Dracula feast upon the blood of the living? That’s for fate to decide.

      There are some interesting twists to the Dracula story here in Phantom der Nacht. Kinski’s portrayal of the vampire as a monstrous, miserable wretch rather than a suave seductor is a nice change of pace. Vampirism is supposed to be a horrible curse after all, not ‘free super powers and immortality at the cost of a tan’, and if people wanted to bang corpses so much they should go to the morgue. I also found that it interesting that about halfway through the movie Lucy becomes the protagonist, rather than Jon. Lucy is the one that Dracula wants to bang after all, so if anyone would have an issue here it would be her, but it’s a nice change of pace when you see the woman in a vampire movie that isn’t a damsel in distress or a vampire herself. Definitely one of the more dour movies on the list, and I can’t tell if it’s because of all the dead people or because it’s directed by Werner Herzog. Probably Herzog.

      Are you a big vampire fan? Do you have an unhealthy obsession with Germany or the German people? Then why not put on Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht on your television/computer screen this Halloween. It won’t make you scream in fright, but it will make you have long bouts of introspection on the nature of life and love, and isn’t exploring one’s feelings something which all men fear?

     There you have it, 31 movies that I watched this October, and perhaps some you might want to watch as well. For those who did read through all this crap, I hope you found some movies that you really enjoy. For those who didn’t, it’s pretty weird that you would read the last paragraph in a multi-page list and skip the list itself. But before we go, there were a couple of films I tried out for the marathon, but they were just too damn bad to go the next round:

The Hills Have Eyes (1977), directed by Wes Craven

 The Texas Chainsaw Massacre earned its place in horror movie history for its incredibly visual imagery and disturbing atmosphere, so it’s only natural that the crop of imitation films that came after it would try and copy that. Films like The Hills Have Eyes, which replaces a backwoods hick family with a backwoods hick family, essentially a lateral change, and still manages to fuck it up. No likable characters on either side, crappy story, unimpressive action, and a dog with a higher body count than the murderous hillbillies. Good thing Craven went on to do Nightmare on Elm Street, because sitting through this crap was a chore.

Godzilla vs King Ghidorah (1991), directed by Kazuki Ohmori

 I love Godzilla. I’ve loved Godzilla ever since I was a kid. I own almost every Godzilla movie (including the ‘98 Tristar film), I’ve watched the animated series, read the comics, played the video games, owned the action figures, etc. etc. I got that Godzilla shit on lock down. But HOLY SHIT is this movie a pain in the ass. Getting to see the 90’s badass Godzilla fight his greatest enemy? Awesome. Sitting through the hour or so of confusing time travel bullshit that makes no fucking sense at any point to get to that fight? Not awesome and frankly not worth the effort for those few minutes of greatness. There are better Godzilla movies out there.

Flesh for Frankenstein (1972), directed by Paul Morrissey

Produced by famous artist Andy ‘Soup Can’ Warhol, Flesh for Frankenstein is the shitty movie that high-minded art snobs have been waiting for. In the film, Baron Frankenstein is a fascistic Czech nationalist living with his sexpot sister/wife (who looks like a goddamn lizard person) and his two creepy mute kids in some castle presumably in Czechoslovakia. Frankenstein is an ardent believer in the idea that pure Czechs a descendent from the Ancient Greeks, and he plans to use his power to create a master race that will eventually dominate the world (sound familiar?). Bad acting, bad accents, unlikable characters, and Frankenstein fucks a corpse in the gallbladder. No amount of ultraviolence can stop this shambling trainwreck of a movie from pulling in to shit station, and good fucking riddance to bad rubbish.







Happy Halloween!

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2014: Videodrome (1983), directed by David Cronenberg

    The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "Static", by Beck 

     We’ve covered Terry Gilliam, and we’ve done David Lynch, so now it’s time to give a little love for one of the weirdest directors to ever have a lasting career in Hollywood: David Cronenberg. Cronenberg is of course most famous for popularizing the concept of body horror (a subgenre that involves disturbingly graphic mutations of the human body) as a film genre, in films such as his remake of 50’s cult ‘classic’ The Fly and his adaptation of William S. Burroughs’ classic novel Naked Lunch. In more modern times ol’ Dave has stepped away from the body-bending that made him famous to tackle more serious drama, A History of Violence, etc. While I’m sure those films are quite interesting (I’ve heard good things about Cosmopolis), I have to wonder whether he would ever consider dipping into the well of insanity to pull out another legit horror movie. A movie like Videodrome.

      In a world not entirely unlike our own, television is taken super serial. Max Renn (James Woods) is the owner of Channel 83 or Civic TV, a cable network that has become infamous for its risque programming, heavy emphasis on softcore porn and extreme violence. One day Max’s tv pirates intercept a strange program that features incredibly realistic scenes of torture, which goes by the name of Videodrome. Max is sure that Videodrome is going to be the next big hit for his controversial Channel 83, all he needs is to do is buy the broadcast rights from whomever owns it. The deeper down the rabbit hole Max goes, however, the more mysteries that pop up. Is Videodrome just torture porn for people like Max and his girlfriend Nicki Brand (Blondie’s Debbie Harry) to get off to, or does it carry a more sinister purpose? Who are its owners, and what is their ultimate goal? And what is the deal with the hallucinations and crazy TV cults? All this and more when you decide to watch David Cronenberg’s Videodrome. Just don’t stand so close to the screen, okay? 

      In this brave new world of the 21st century, where endless violence and sex is a google search away, Videodrome might not as relatable to movie audiences as it was in the early 80s. Still, it has all the ultraviolence, deviant sexuality and disgusting mutations  that I’ve come to expect from Cronenberg’s body horror films, and seeing all the crazy shit that special effects could do back then is fascinating to me. The major thing that Videodrome lacks in my opinion is coherency, which was also a problem for Tetsuo: The Iron Man. After a certain point, all attempts at narrative seem to been pushed aside in favour of gross gun hands and sticking hands in James Wood’s hole. Which is fine, I love gross gun hands, but the ending was one of those ‘that was the ending?’ type of thing, and I don’t know if I would have had that same reaction if I knew what the fuck was going on or why people were doing the things they were. If your tastes in horror lean towards the weird and inexplicable, you might want to try out some Videodrome this Halloween.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2014: Cube (1997), directed by Vincenzo Natali

     The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "Trapped In A Box", by No Doubt

     Yeah, vampires are scary, and zombies aren’t very nice, but there’s one thing that puts every movie monster in the world to shame: humans. As scary as those monsters can be, they are still fictional after all, and humans are more or less real. The fear of our fellow man has guided the development of the whole of civilization, caused wars, lead to racism, classism and has shaped our pop culture accordingly. Look at how money money has been made on the true crime and slasher genres, which is based entirely around the premise of people killing other people. Sure, if you go around thinking everyone around is trying to murder you at all times you’re either a severe paranoiac or a Republican, but if the idea wasn’t at least somewhat believable than it wouldn’t be successful. Who knows what people are capable of when pushed to their limits?

      The premise of Cube is a simplistic but highly effective one. 7 people awake to find themselves in strange color coded rooms, with no memory of how they ended up there. Each wall of each room has hatches that enter into other rooms, which also open into other rooms, forming a gigantic, constantly shifting cube. Not only that, but some of the rooms are rigged with various deadly traps, which ensure an instant and painful death for whatever poor bastard happens to stumble into it. Who put these people in this fantastical death trap? What horrible crime could they have done that would warrant such a punishment? None of that matters. The only hope these prisoners have to avoid a slow, painful death by starvation and dehydration is to band together and escape the cube, and they’ll soon find out that this is going to be harder than anyone ever thought.

      I don’t want to seem like I’m blowing smoke up Vincenzo Natali’s ass, but Cube is an amazingly effective horror/thriller film. The atmosphere of this film is fantastic, with a level of tension that builds and builds until it becomes almost suffocating. There is no outside force, no Jason Voorhees or Freddy Krueger waiting to kill everyone except the hot chick so that we as an audience can direct our fear towards some monstrous creature. It’s a couple of people locked in a room (in a sense) , and it’s one of the most of the most suspenseful films I’ve seen in a while. If that’s not a recommendation to place Cube in your Halloween watch queue, I don’t know what is.