IGLOO OF THE UNCANNY

Horror scenes way too good for the actual film they're in #289 - Night of the Demons

2011-11-25T22:06:00.011Z

The minutes are ticking by in Night of the Demons and nothing much has happened...

In fact, all we've seen so far is a group of unlikeable teens who can't act convincingly end up in a suspiciously well-lit haunted house.

But then - just as we're about to give up hope - this happens. Like, this shit just got real. Especially when the strobe kicks in at 2:49...

FROZEN (2010)

2011-07-29T13:49:00.015+01:00

If you like the idea of watching a girl pissing herself - set to an uplifting string symphony - then ‘Frozen’ is the film for you.

If you like spotting plot-holes and rushing onto IMDB to write 500 words on how stupid it was that jumping off the chair-lift would be the VERY FIRST THING Dan tried... then ‘Frozen’ is also the film for you.

And why not? The acting in ‘Frozen’ is good. And the story is admirable. Admirable in the way that it happily traps itself in a ridiculous, terrifying-but-boring situation, then gamely tries to make a film out of it. Someone once said the secret of film-making was to "Get your man up a tree. Throw rocks at him. Get him down.” And ‘Frozen’ is the most literal interpretation of this that I have ever seen. Only the tree is a chairlift. And the rocks are wolves. And they’re not thrown. But it’s still quite close.

‘Frozen’, or ‘Chairlift!’ as I would prefer it to be called, starts off with three teens arguing, joking, laughing and generally just wasting screen-time until they pull themselves together and get stuck up the Chairlift! But who will survive and what will become of them?

So – what would you do if you were stuck in a chair-lift? That’s the question we all ask when we watch ‘Chairlift!’. If you’d just jump into a pack of wolves without discussing any options then you’ve got a lot in common with Dan, the first of the chairliftees to (spoiler) die in the most hilarious death I think I’ve ever scene. Apart from Nicolas Cage in The Wicker Man remake obviously.

... and Jon Voight in The Champ.

It’s worth watching the film purely for Dan's death throes alone, as the poor swine howls at the sight of his broken bone protruding from his leg, and then howls even more at the sight of howling wolves turning up and looking a bit peckish. Then, as he's being eaten, he howls.

The laughs even keep coming after Dan dies, as Parker (the girl) recreates the scene from Dumb & Dumber when Jim Carey licks a frozen pole and gets stuck to it.

Then we’ve got the aforementioned pissing scene and some more incredibly exciting stuff as our hapless heroes come up with some innovative-yet-dumb ways of escaping with varying degrees of success. I won’t spoil it for you, but let’s just say the ending is... not all that exciting.

All in all then, fair play to the film-makers in getting themselves stuck up a metaphorical tree and managing to make it laugh out loud funny. If they make a sequel where 3 teenagers take a wrong turning and somehow manage to get themselves stuck up an actual real tree, getting rocks thrown at them, count me in!

If you enjoyed Frozen then you'll also like:

Dumb & Dumber

Alive

Where Eagles Dare

Golden Shower Girls #4

A SERBIAN FILM (2010)

2011-04-15T13:43:00.008+01:00

You wake up with no memory. On the TV there is a video of a burly man having rough sex with your prone body. When you go to the toilet, you find yourself pissing blood!!

Yawn - honestly, what’s the big deal? This sounds like a fairly typical Wednesday morning for me, after a Tuesday night out with Big Al from the Accounts Department at work.

It's also one of the many amusing scenes from A Serbian Film, the most shocking film ever made. I can handle watching it because I'm an experienced horror blogger but you, you've got no chance. You'll probably die of shock during the baby shagging scene.

Oh yeah, there's a baby shagging scene where a guy shags a new born baby. Not in real life though, obviously.

But A Serbian Film does have a point. Compare the family at the start of the film - dysfunctional, but happy - with the final scene where they're traumatised, catatonic and have had their lives ripped apart. This is what war does to a family, a country. The message isn't too hard to grasp (like Milo's cock) and what's more the film also looks like it has used the notorious Milgram Experiment as a source of inspiration. So lots of genuine food for thought if you can stop masturbating and/or proclaiming your disgust long enough to think about it.

If you want to watch A Serbian Film, then please do. It’s a full on, unforgettable and blackly (with a capital 'B) humorous cinematic experience. But please don’t blog about it afterwards warning people against seeing it and telling us all how you wish you could wind the clock back and not have to put yourself through it – for our behalf – again. It’s not that bad. Well, it is, but still a lot less painful than watching Mona Lisa Smile for example. All this furore reminds me of the film ‘Funny People’ where a bunch of mental patients end up working in advertising and come up with some fabulous slogans. Their strap-line for the (sadly fictional) horror film ‘The Freak’ goes, “The Freak will fuck you up for the rest of your life!”.

Put it this way, if you’re shocked by the sight of a guy getting killed by an erect penis being thrust into his ocular cavity then A Serbian Film might not be for you. But if this is the case then be warned - you have no sense of fun. And you’ve obviously not been out with me on a Friday night either.

Required further reading to discuss A Serbian Film at dinner parties:

The Milgram Experiment

Serbian War Crimes

Horse Viagra

This trailer will fuck you up for the rest of your life:

Heroes of Horror #133

2011-02-07T20:41:00.005Z

I'll wager that not many of us horror fans would be prepared to go to prison for our love of the genre, but it looks like this is what might be facing John Powell and his lovely fiance Lucy Watson...

"Mad Axeman" faces court over "Shining" prank

And with photos...

John Powell, yesterday

Kids today need to toughen up and get a sense of humour. Free the Windermere Two!

28 DAYS LATER IN 60 SECONDS IN ONE TAKE

2010-06-12T01:01:00.002+01:00

Family Ties

2010-04-29T10:28:00.016+01:00

I slip bitterly back into consciousness.

Blood is running from my mouth to the top of my head and dripping up to the ceiling, where all the igloo furniture has somehow been attached. Weird. Hang on…

I’m hanging upside down. Blood is running from my mouth down to the top of my head and dripping down to the floor, where all the igloo furniture is in its rightful place.

My twin brother appears.

“How’s it hanging?” He says.

“Fine, fine.” I reply. “Any plans for today?”

“Oh, let’s see now… killing you and reclaiming my rightful inheritance?”

“Your rightful inheritance?”

“You really don’t remember? Right, listen carefully to this valuable piece of exposition because I’m going to at quite a pace and I don’t like repeating myself. Ready?”

“I can’t think of anything that will make me any more ready than this, so yes.”

“Okay. You and I are twin brothers. I’m Sean Berman and you’re Basil Berman. Daddy is Daddy Berman, founder of Berman Confectionaries and inventor of the Berman Permachoc, remember? Chocolate that doesn’t melt?”

“What’s the point of that?”

“Does there need to be a point? Was there a point in the telephone? The aeroplane? The stylophone? Anyway, it turned out that there was a point because the African and Indian sub-continent loved the stuff. People without fridges, you know?”

“Why didn’t they just buy normal chocolate and eat it before it melted?”

“Here’s why, Basil.” My brother said with a frown (sorry, a sinister smile) as he produced a cattle prod and zapped me between the legs.

“Ow, that smarts!”

“It’s a delayed reaction. Just wait a…”

“FRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARKK!!!!!” I responded.

“Right then, so if there are no more questions I’ll continue. No? Good. Anyway, poor Daddy died last week in a freak accident involving a vat of chocolate and a psychopathic serial killer son."

"Daddy died a rich man with a large will. A large will that leaves none of his money to his psychopathic serial killer son – me, and all of his money to his goody two shoes can’t-put-a-foot-wrong famous doctor son, Basil…”

“I’m a doctor?” I interrupted, forgetting myself in the excitement. “Of course! I always kneFRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARKK!!!!!”

“Don't interrupt... so to claim my rightful inheritance all I need to is kill you and steal your identity.”

“It’s not really your rightful inheritance in that case is it?” I thought, rather than spoke.

“You may speak.”

“But everyone thinks I’m you. Plus, I don't know if you realise this, but this place - the igloo, everything - is just a figment of my imagination.”

“You been having dreams about cops and doctors again Basil? This place is real alright. Does this feel real to you?”

“FRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARKK!!!!!”

“You see despite my many faults, Daddy still had a soft spot for me and pulled a few strings to arrange for my exile here in Igloo Land rather than a trip to Old Sparky. When you came to visit me in prison I borrowed your identity with the help of a cup of tea laced with LSD-25 and a large fist. It’s a pretty straightforward, easy to understand and not at all far-fetched story really.”

“But why bother coming back here? If everyone thinks you're me you could just claim the inheritance anyway? And the horror films? What do they all mean?”

“ Okay, number one, quit looking for plot-holes, and two, I like horror films. Horror, Sci-Fi, you name it, I'll watch any old shit. Have you ever seen The Deadly Mantis from 1957? It’ll be on in a minute.”

“Can you turn me the right way up to watch it? FRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARKK!!!!!
I'll be fine like this."

THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME (1932)

2010-04-19T09:46:00.031+01:00

Day #I've stopped counting to be honest.

Whilst whistling a jaunty yet unfamiliar tune as I shaved myself in the igloo mirror this morning, I couldn't help feeling a sense of foreboding, a sense that something just... wasn't quite right. I looked at my reflection peering out at me through the grubby glass and noticed a small cut on my upper lip. Carefully, I dabbed it with my handkerchief. My reflection didn't, and continued to whistle that unfamiliar tune. Then I realised why the tune was so unfamiliar and I had that sense of foreboding - I can't whistle!

I was given no opportunity to ponder this fact however, as my reflection stuck a fist out of the mirror and punched me square in the face, round about where my nose used to be. "Here's something that doesn't happen every day." I remember thinking to myself as I collapsed unconscious on the floor.

When I came to I was strapped to my bed with my assailant standing over me.

"Dammit, he's good looking!" I thought to myself as I asked him "Who the hell are you?"

"You really don't remember, Basil?" replied my attractive attacker. "What on earth have they done to you? I'm Sean Berman. Your twin brother."

This place gets more like a far-fetched pulp horror novel every day...

And... Basil? What kind of name is that?

"Hey, this TV actually works!" I heard my stunningly handsome twin say as I slipped back into sweet unconsciousness...

THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME (1932)

The Most Dangerous Game is the first ever celluloid example of one of my favourite horror sub-genres - humans hunting humans!

However, I don't think that the title is particularly apt when you consider that:

A) Humans aren't as dangerous as leopards or tigers really, are they? Oh, I know that humans have greater intelligence and have done more damage to the planet than any other living creature, but If I was walking through the jungle with a hunting rifle I'd rather come face-to-face with, say, Billy Ray Cyrus than a pissed off panther. But that's probably just me...

and

B) Is hunting humans really 'The Most Dangerous Game'? What about Snakes & Ladders with real snakes and rickety ladders that have random rungs missing? What about Hungry Hippos with real Hippos? I'm sure there are many other examples.

But I digress. We're in a small passenger ship traversing through dangerous waters as we meet our hero Bob Rainsford, a hunter by trade. One of Bob's chums engages him in a philosophical discussion along the lines of, "Who is the real savage, man who hunts for pleasure or the beast who hunts for necessity? What would you do if the roles were reversed?"

Bob laughs this off with a "Ha, that'll never happen to me! Never happen! Why, what possible set of circumstances could ever..." CRASH!!!! "What was that noise?"

It was the ship crashing. It sinks.

Bob and the captain are the only survivors!

A shark eats the captain.

Bob is the only survivor!

Somehow he manages to swim ashore unharmed. After wandering around for a bit he spots civilisation in the shape of a large, forbidding looking mansion.

The door creaks open and Bob steps inside. A hairy, scary man appears from behind the door. Bob tries to engage him in polite conversation but gets blanked, much to his annoyance. It never seems to register with Bob that this guy might not actually speak English, so thank goodness for the appearance of Count Zaroff to explain that Bob is speaking to Ivan who not only can't speak English but can't speak, being as he is that classic horror film staple, a mute man-servant.

Ivan is actually played by the African-American actor Noble Johnson - making this the earliest known example of a black actor play a Caucasian character.

Count Zaroff cuts a fine figure, I must say. Perfectly groomed facial hair, elegantly tailored suit and with a cigarette holder held just so.

He's foppish and he's fey and has impeccable manners, as he cordially welcomes Bob to his humble abode and has Ivan show him to a room, explaining that he has other guests who have also been shipwrecked. It would appear that Bob has had a stroke of luck finding the mansion. Count Zaroff seems like a really nice guy.

He's quite insane, of course.

Bob freshens himself up (luckily this was the 1930s, in the days before people got traumatised by being in disasters and getting chased by sharks) and meets his fellow shipwreckees; an annoying drunk called Martin Towbridge and his distinctly unannoying sister Eve Towbridge, played by the stunning Fay Wray.

Naturally, Bob makes a beeline for Eve.

Eve seems somewhat unhappy with the situation, and we see Bob surreptitiously sniff his armpit. But it turns out that it's Count Zaroff that is worrying Eve. "Two of our party have gone missing! They were last seen entering Count Zaroff's trophy room!"

"Hic! I'm going with Count Zaroff to his trophy room!" shouts her drunken brother, cheerily.

"Stop bothering me Martin, I'm trying to explain to Bob about people going missing!" she replies.

Anyway, Martin is never seen again. Bob and Eve search for him later that night, and creep into the trophy room. It's full of heads. Human heads!

"Something's not quite right here..." thinks Bob, but he has no time to piece the clues together as Zaroff and Ivan burst in and tie Bob and Eve up.

Zaroff helpfully explains the situation which we knew anyway - Zaroff likes hunting humans. But he recognises Bob as a fellow hunter and asks him if he'd like to join him in his horrifying human hunting hobby. Bob says no, one thing leads to another and before you know it Bob and Eve are running for their lives through the jungle (which you'll recognise as being the same jungle used in King Kong. You may also have recognised the screams of the shipwrecked sailors being the same as the screams of the equally unlucky sailors shaken off a log by Kong).

I almost forgot the rules - If Bob and Eve last until dawn, they're free to go. And Bob's been given a knife. That's all.

"Oh I'm slowing you up I shouldn't have came!" shouts Eve as they come to the edge of a cliff. You can see that Bob is thinking that she's right and he'd have been better off without her, but being a gentleman he keeps quiet about it.

Bob sets a couple of clever traps but Zaroff equally cleverly evades them, the clever count!

He's right behind Bob and Eve now and sets his dogs on Bob! Bob manages to fight one off, but here comes another one! And it's a big bitch!

The remaining few minutes of the film are pretty damn exciting and full of incident. Perhaps I'm being over-cautious in not wishing to give away spoilers for a film that's over 80-years old, but look, it's only an hour long. You should really watch it. And because it's Public Domain I can post a link to the full version here (I think) for your viewing pleasure. So here it is. Enjoy:

Watch The Most Dangerous Game

Human Centipede Trailer

2010-04-09T16:58:00.004+01:00

If you're looking forward to this as much as I am you're sick.

Inside The Slaughtered Lamb 2010

2010-03-28T23:57:00.013+01:00

Much excitement was had over the weekend when, on a rare trip from Igloo-Land, I went for a rather nice meal in a country pub. I opted for Pork Belly on stir-fried Cabbage, topped with Mustard Mash and washed down with a light and fruity Beaujolais. It was fantastic, it really was:

PS I almost forgot, the pub in question was The Black Swan in Effingham, Surrey, a key landmark in horror film history as it was the interior of The Slaughtered Lamb pub which Jack and David had the misfortune to stumble into in, of course, An American Werewolf in London.

It's now almost unrecognisable unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately come to think of it) and there were no weird goings-on to be reported. Although at one point, I could have sworn my Guinness magically refilled itself...

Also rather aptly, the nearby hotel I stayed in was called The Talbot Inn.

Here's some professionally taken photographs:

A shot of the bar itself

The door where Jack and David walked in (and out) and sat down to the left of. It's no longer a functioning entrance (or exit) to the pub, so go round the back.

Excuse me but what's that star on the... oh, it's gone...

Bit of history to finish with.

Bras of Horror #12

2010-03-25T16:39:00.003Z

Claire Gordon as Sandra Banks in Konga (1961). Hands off you beast!

Becoming...

2010-03-25T09:16:00.003Z

“Enjoy your exile, murderer!” shouted the pilot and co-pilot in unison as they threw me out the plane. “Don’t I get a parachute?” I replied, not unreasonably I thought. But it was too late, and I was already plummeting to the icy wastes below...

Luckily I landed on some soft snow and some talking penguins sheltered and fed me. Until I realised I was hallucinating, and they left on a magic carpet.

And so I found myself wandering. Lost, half-mad and half-dead, all hope gone. Then I saw the igloo.

Something uncanny about it, I remember thinking. Maybe it was the supernatural glow that seemed to emanate deep from within it. Maybe it was the sense of destiny that I felt as I stumbled towards it. Maybe it was the large wooden sign saying ‘Igloo of the Uncanny’ nailed above the door…

It was warm inside. The old man said nothing as he handed me a hot drink. I gulped it down greedily and fell into a deep sleep. Such strange dreams… glaring hospital lights... blue pills and bibles... and when I awoke the old man had gone. But when my eyes fell upon his dirty old shaving mirror, I saw his face staring back at me.

Maybe I’ve always been him.

Maybe I’ve always been here.

Illumination

2010-03-24T15:16:00.006Z

"Wakey, wakey asshole!" a voice says.

I slowly open my eyes to glaring light that makes me wince.

Two people I don't recognise are seated on either side of my bed. On the left, a young skinny guy with a white coat and a name badge. The guy on the right isn't young or skinny (he's old and chubby) and is looking at me - glaring really - with pure hate. There's so much hate in his eyes that I almost want to laugh.

"Piece of shit." he says almost inaudibly, as if to himself.

"I'm Doctor Mark Howard, Sean." Says the white coat on the left.

"Sean?" I say, "I'm not Sean..."

"Oh well you got nothin' to worry about then, eh Seany?" says the chubby guy, with a cruel smile that shows too many teeth.

"Where's Doctor Carlyle?" I ask.

Doctor Howard (If he is who he says he is) ignores this question and asks, "Do you know what year it is?"

"Sure..." I say. But I need a moment to think. "It's... 1920."

"And can I ask you how you reached that conclusion?"

"Well... I met Doctor Carlyle in 1912, spent 6 years training under him in college... then I must have been in the igloo for a year or so? Which would make it 1920. Or 1920-ish, look is this is some kind of joke?"

This too gets ignored by Doctor Howard. "Let's just talk about the films. These horror films that you watch in the igloo."

"Well, they come up on a TV. In the corner..." I can feel myself getting tired now. I don't want to speak to Doctor Howard any more. I'm starting to feel that it might not be a good idea.

"Okay. It's 1920, and you're watching these films. Let me just name a few just to make sure we're on the same wavelength, right? So we've got... let's see now..." he looks down at a clipboard resting on his knee, "Piranha. Horror Express. Duel. Black Christmas. It's Alive. Twins of Evil... and quite a few more. These ARE some of the films that you've seen right?"

"Sure..."

"So let's just think about this for a second... because all these films are from the 70's. The 1970s. Which means that your story of watching TV in this igloo, and it being the 1920's simply does not make any sense. You do see that now don't you? I mean, colour TV wasn't even invented until the 1940's..."

"Okay. I mean, I suppose so. I just never thought..."

"And the less said about the force-field the better... listen to me very carefully now, I need to be sure that you understand exactly what I'm saying. Your name is Sean Berman and you are a patient - my patient - here in Boston Memorial Hospital."

"It is March 2010. You've been in a coma for six months. And it appears you've spent this time constructing an elaborate... well, perhaps not quite elaborate, perhaps more of a lazily, ill thought out... fantasy of being an igloo-keeper in a place called, believe it or not, Igloo-Land."

I look at Doctor Howard's face. It's not unkind. Like he's almost sympathising.

"Sean, this er, this gentleman beside me is Detective Stark Bellows of the Boston Police Department. When you're feeling better he'll be asking you some questions, but only under my supervision and only when you're quite, quite well, okay."

"What questions? What for?" I ask Dr Howard.

"Allow me to answer this one Doc." Says the Detective, sounding like a man used to getting his own way.

He leans forward, looks me directly in the eyes and lowers his voice to a mean growl, "Because I want to see you die, asshole. I want to see you fry on the chair, okay? I want to see your brain melt and your eyeballs pop. You can cry all you want to, to doctor bleeding heart here, or you can confess everything to the local neighbourhood priest, telling them all about the terrible upbringing you had and how daddy used to beat mommy until mommy killed daddy... but let me assure you that you are going to pay for what you did. And it will be soon, and I will be there enjoying every all-too-brief minute of your agonising death."

He looks as if he's going to continue for a second, but just turns to Doctor Howard and says, "Now if you'll excuse me doc, I must go and let some interested parties know that our friend Sean Berman is fit and healthy and back with us again. Don't leave town will you Seany, huh?" he finishes with a final glance in my direction. The same cruel smile as before showing the same teeth.

Doctor Armstrong speaks as soon as the Detective has left the room. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that Sean, but Detective Bellows seems to have been given certain ah... privileges that I'm none too happy with. Old friends with the Mayor you know. Probably brothers in some secret cult I shouldn't imagine..."

"He really does hate me, doesn't he? What did I ever do to him?"

"Well, you have had several run-ins with him in the past..."

"Like what?"

"Well, with his wife..."

"I had an affair with his wife?"

"Ah, not quite, no..."

"Thank God for that."

"...you killed her..."

"...?"

"...and his two young children. Tortured them beforehand by all accounts..."

"Jesus..."

"And you also killed his partner, a Detective Greenly..."

"I did all this? Me?"

"Oh absolutely. Then you kidnapped the Lieutenant himself, tortured him for 12 days and castrated him. Somehow he escaped. Shot you twice, once in the back and once in the head. It's a miracle you survived actually."

"I still don't see..."

"Enough small-talk, Ben, there's not much time. Lieutenant Bellows is at this very moment making his way to City Hall to speak to his friend the Mayor, who will overturn a State Collateral Review which postponed your Death Sentence due to you being in a permanent vegetative state. As soon as he does this he'll set the wheels of justice in motion and as long as you're conscious and fit to plead, your execution will go ahead. This could happen as early as tomorrow."

"Did I really do all those things you just said, Doc? I thought I was dreaming about being a psychopath, a madman... "

"If you were dreaming about such things, then those dreams were based very much in reality. Have you ever heard of The Tennessee Torturer? The Ramsgate Ripper? The Sidwell Strangler? The Manhattan Mincer?"

"No, can't say I have..."

"The Sadistic Surgeon of South Swindon? The Butcher of Boston? They're all YOU, Ben. All nicknames that the press have given to your various killing sprees through the years. Apart from the last one, when you really were just a butcher... oh, and The Cop Castrator, I almost forgot that one.I wouldn't mention in front of Detective Bellows If I were you."

"So what you're saying is... maybe Detective Bellows has a point?"

"Well, he did have until you chopped it off..."

"No, I mean maybe... was that meant to be a joke? I mean maybe... maybe it's time for me to face up to whatever I've done. If I'm guilty of all these horrible things then maybe I should admit to everything and get it over with..."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps there is another way. You won't remember this Ben but we go back, you and I. We were best buddies as kids. Let' see, you were 6 and fearless, I was 5 but small for my age. You saved me from drowning once. We'd built a raft and took it out on the Charles River one summer's day... I lost my balance and fell in... couldn't swim of course, and just when I was beginning to lose hope you dragged me out. You used every bit of strength in your 6-year old arms to haul me out and save my life. And now I can repay the favour. It's not much, but..."

It's a little blue pill. He hands it to me.

"It's called an Aput Nootropic..."

"A what?"

"An Aput Nootropic..."

"Shit name for a drug."

"Well, I didn't make it up Ben. It's a cognitive enhancer..."

"A what?"

"Look, let's not get hung up on names, okay? It's just a very clever way of protecting you and your brain. All you need to do is swallow it, and within a matter of minutes your coma will be re-triggered. Your memory will revert to its previous state within that coma, and you will return to the fantasy land you created. You'll go back to the very first day in Igloo-Land. You can spend another 6 months or so there, until the Mayor gets replaced or the Lieutenant has that coronary he's been heading for... 6 months, 6 years, who knows? It beats the Electric Chair though, surely..."

"You know, I've just had a strange thought, Doc. What if YOU'RE the fantasy and the Igloo-Land is real? What if I've slipped and fell down a crevasse, knocked myself out and I'm in a coma now?"

Doctor Howard thinks about this for a moment then gives me a strange half-smile.

"It's possible I suppose, Ben. But if I am your fantasy, then I'm probably not the best person to ask whether I'm a fantasy or not, am I? You're going to have to decide for yourself. You have the pill, it's up to you. I'll say good night now. Press your buzzer if you need anything."

The little blue pill. I place it gently on the bedside table next to a book. It's a Bible. A Bible with a bookmark. I pick it up and open it at the marked page. There's an underlined passage, Job 37: 9-10. I start reading it, but find myself unable to keep my eyes open. God I'm tired...

Women of Horror that we need to see more of #23 - Lisa Houle

2010-03-24T13:43:00.006Z

If you’ve seen Pontypool – and you really must – then you’ll be in love with Lisa Houle and her beautifully judged, multi-layered performance which manages to be incredibly moving yet bloody funny at the same time.

And you’ll probably be in love with her as a person too. Which I hope co-star Stephen McHattie is, because he’s married to her. Here's a pic from their wedding day album:

Incredibly she’s hardly acted on-screen if those reliable people at IMDB are to be trusted:

# "Pontypool" .... Sydney Briar (2008)
# "Emily of New Moon" .... Eve Kinch / ... (7 episodes, 1998-2000)
# "Due South" .... Madeline Carnes (1 episode, 1996)
# "Seinfeld" .... Cheryl (1 episode, 1993)
# "Scene of the Crime" (1991) TV series (various episodes)

Of course, it may be that she doesn’t particularly want to act and has other things going on in her life, which is fine. Except it’s not because it affects me. Let’s see Lori in lot’s more films from now on - McHattie, do some house-sitting!

EVIL DEAD - REMAKE

2010-03-12T14:08:00.004Z

In Claymation. In 60 seconds.

Evil Dead done in 60 seconds with CLAY - 2010 from Lee Hardcastle on Vimeo.

... just one of the nominations for the Jameson Empire 'Done in 60 Seconds 'Awards 2010. You can view the rest of the nominations here, including Avatar, Predator and Nightmare on Elm Street...

ZOLTAN, HOUND OF DRACULA (1978)

2010-03-11T10:38:00.005Z

There doesn't seem to be much love around for Zoltan, Hound of Dracula (US title 'Dracula's Dog'). It's always held fond memories for me though, and I remember being genuinely spooked by it as youngster.

I like Zoltan. Okay, so he’s a horrifying hellish hound and a vicious bugger, but he is obedient, faithful and a bit of a cutie.

I can’t help but feel if he attacked me all I’d need to do was give his chin a stroke and we’d be best friends forever.

Not the ideal way to think about the main villain when settling down to watch a horror film you might think. But Zoltan isn’t the scariest dude in this film. Here's Reggie Nalder as the diabolical Veidt Smith:

Here's a quick shot of Reggie without any make-up:

Veidt Smith then, is Dracula's recently resurrected henchman who, with the help of his beloved Zoltan, goes off in search of his dead master's descendant; family man Michael Drake, happily residing in the good old US of A and about to set off on his yearly camping trip with his sickeningly nice wife and kids. He's also bringing along Samson and Annie, his two cute dogs, and their little puppies. Something's going to happen to the puppies, isn't it?

Yes. One mysteriously drowns. Then that night, the family is attacked by Zoltan and a couple of his newly vamped-up canine accomplices. Shaken and upset, the family decide to head off home the next day.

Until up drives the wonderful Jose Ferrer...

... playing Inspector Branco, the Van Helsing-like character who has followed Schmidt all the way from Romania and has a plan to stop him! He explains everything to Michael Drake and quickly wins his trust.

"You leave in the caravan with the kids love, I'm going to stay in a fisherman's hut for the rest of the weekend with this old guy who I've just met." Michael explains to his strangely understanding wife, who packs up and drives off with the kids, never to reappear. This is unfair - I don’t think you should be allowed to just leave and head off home half way through a horror film. How disappointing would 'The Hills Have Eyes' or 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre' have been if the potential victims were allowed to say "Sod this, I'm going home. This place is beginning to annoy me"...?

Anyway, the Inspector's plan is for Michael to be 'bait', and for the two of them to hole up in a nearby fisherman's hut and await the attack. The rest of the plan is unclear...in fact, I’m going to stop even referring to it as a ‘plan’ because it patently wasn’t. Making someone ‘bait’ to lure attackers is only PART of a plan. The bit that happens when the attackers attack is the OTHER part - most would say the most important part.

But when the Zoltan and co. attack that night what does the Inspector do? Basically just shrugs his shoulders and gives Michael a look that says ‘sorry, I didn’t actually expect them to attack.' Thanks Inspector, thanks a lot. So the pair simply wait in the shack, huddling together while the three dogs try and make their way in. Eventually Zoltan comes crashing through the roof and lands on top of the planless pair, knocking them both unconscious.

Zoltan couldn’t have aimed better if he’d tried, although they did make it a bit easy for him, huddled together in the dead centre of the shack like that.

Zoltan's about to vamp up Drake but would you believe it - here comes dawn! And so the devilish dobermann is forced to beat a hasty retreat.

For some strange reason it appears not to have dawned (no pun intended) on the Inspector or Michael that the dogs have anything to do with Veidt Smith. The fact that there were 'two coffins' though is beginning to register with the Inspector but bloody hell it's not difficult is it?

The Inspector's next 'plan' is to head back to the original camping ground. "I have a feeling that something will happen there." He says, which once again, isn't a plan in my book. Nevertheless, Michael agrees, and the two head back.

Not long left to the film now, which Veidt Smith underlines by reminding Zoltan that they "cannot survive without a master another night". This leads to a rather rushed and unsatisfying ending and it's over all too soon - an extra ten or fifteen minutes running time and another plot twist could have made all the difference. What about 'turns out that the wife and kids didn’t manage to escape but have been kidnapped by Smith, who has them holed up in a nearby abandoned spooky old house?'. That would have worked for me. “I don’t remember this abandoned spooky old house being here before.” Michael could say to the Inspector as they enter for an exciting final showdown.

But no, all that happens is that the Inspector finds Smith and after a quick fight, gives him a good staking. In the meantime Zoltan and his doggy disciples attack Michael, who takes refuge in the Inspector's car. But damn! It's a convertible, so the roof has to shut before he's safe. The fact that it's the slowest closing roof that I've ever seen in a car really racks up the tension. Maybe they could have made it even slower and added ten minutes to the film that way.

Michael notices his beloved dog Samson rushing to rescue him and lets him into the car. Big mistake, as Samson's eyes glow a hellish vampiric glow and he attacks!

All this is happening as the inspector and a couple of friendly hunters reappear. Much dog-fighting and dog-staking ensues. Michael kills Zoltan by flashing at him (with his crucifix). Zoltan backs off and falls over a cliff that appears from nowhere behind him. He lands on a fence spike. Game over.

It's the end to another successful night's dog killing, and everyone laughs, slaps each other's backs, packs up and heads off home. We just have time for the camera to pan slowly across the ground... to eventually reach Michael's lost pup, alone in the middle of the forest... with fangs and glowing eyes!

Zoiks! THE END. Or is it?

LOST BOYS (1987)

2010-03-10T15:22:00.001Z

A classic clip:

Intermission

2010-03-08T13:57:00.010Z

Day #477

Same old routine today, no doubt. Same cold, same ice, same snow…

Same surgery lights buzzing noisily. Same wires sticking out of my head and chest, connected to a shiny yet strangely antiquated looking machine with numerous dials and flashing buttons… hang on, this isn’t part of the usual igloo routine?

A familiar looking face appeared. “Morning, Carlisle.” It said.

Memories. So far away. Memories surfacing slowly and hazily, as if through a sheet of Arctic ice…

“Dr. Bertorelli?” I heard myself ask. And yes, I remembered. Dr. Bertorelli was my tutor. More of a father figure actually because my own father was… and I am… was… am… Edmund Carlisle! That’s my name! Edmund Carlisle, Medical Student in the Royal College of Surgery, Pall Mall! Yes, it’s all coming back to me…

“Good lad, ” Dr. Bertorelli replied “still got control of all your faculties, eh? I suppose you’re curious about how you got here?”

“I dreamt of an igloo,” I started “and of falling down a long flight…”

“No dream, lad. No dream.” Interjected Dr. Bertorelli. “Let me start at the very beginning. You came to me in the Summer of 1912, remember? Keen as mustard, you were. Eager to learn. And my instincts about you were for the most part correct, as you became one of my best students. Quite brilliant, with a mind as razor sharp as your scalpel. What a disappointment when I discovered that some of your ah, extra-curricular activities involved…”

“Why am I here, doctor?”

“Buggery, ma boy! Buggery most horrid! Bestiality to boot. More arson than you could shake a match at. Rape. Murder. More Buggery. And the drugs! Lithium, Opium, Laudanum, Cocaine, Hashish... oh, and all manner of strange and outlandish concoctions... you and that equally no good friend of yours Henry Jekyll (despite him having every guarantee of an honourable and distinguished future) constantly trying to outdo each other in your potion-making...”

“I prefer the term cocktails, actually Doctor. But...”

“Hush, Edmund!" Said Dr. Bertorelli. "Look at the time! I’ve conversed for far too long already. You need to rest and I need to partake of lunch - it’s twenty past the hour and Mrs. Braithwaite is very particular about punctuality. But not for you ma boy, not yet! You’ve got a 24-inch rod stuck in your spine and an even longer tube up your old chap, so no moving from your bed today! I’ll try and return for a chin wag later, what? If you get bored, we’ve got your old TV in the corner. I’ll switch it on for you now if you want…”

COMING SOON: ZOLTAN, HOUND OF DRACULA (1978)

BEST WORST MOVIE (2010)

2010-03-07T17:59:00.008Z

Best Worst Movie, the feature-length documentary about the legendary Troll 2, now has a theatrical release! Check out their website www.bestworstmovie.com for details.

Here's the trailer:

And here's a reminder of how great Troll 2 and indeed, Justin Timberlake, are:

THE ORPHAN (2009)

2010-03-05T10:26:00.018Z

Day #445

Today brought a stark reminder that this place can be truly treacherous. Got carried away with excitement, I did, by a rare successful spell of herring fishing at one of my favourite ice holes - blissfully unaware that the weather had turned until an icy blast hit my gonads and I discovered that my visibility was less than 6 foot in front of me.

How I managed to get back to the igloo, god or The Devil only knows, but it was only after many hours of fruitless searching and stumbling into crevasses that I saw the neon flashing sign saying 'Igloo of the Uncanny - 100 yards on the left!' that I knew I was safe.

In the warmth and light of the igloo, I took stock of my faculties and noticed that my left snow shoe had gone missing. This discovery led me to take to my bed for 3 days, howling and screaming in anguish and misery. If you think that was an over-reaction let me explain - my foot was inside that snow shoe, and is also missing. This place really is beginning to annoy me.

The Orphan (2009)

I’ve read some really good reviews of this film (they were delivered to me anonymously down the igloo chimney one night). I can’t quite agree with them though. The Orphans is a very average, very cliché-ridden horror thriller. Compared with all the other really bad modern horror films that are around, I guess that makes it a good horror film hence the favourable reviews. I think.

Put it this way, you can probably guess the plot from the title. And if you haven’t guessed the plot from the title, within 2 minutes of watching the film, when you discover the mother is a recovering alcoholic, you’ve got all the information you need.

The Omen (45%) + The Shining (15%) + The Hand That Rocks The Cradle (40%) = The Orphan

Kate Coleman, played by Vera Farmiga who has a face that really annoys me...

... is a recovering alcoholic and grieving mom who adopts an orphan from an orphanage (it’s the best place to find orphans apparently) run by nuns who obviously have no interest in paperwork or background checks.

Horror Hints #45 – Never adopt a child from a nun.

Oh, but she’s a lovely child! Bright, intelligent and courteous! A delight!

The End

Hang on, I forgot a bit – it turns out that the orphan (they call her Esther rather than ‘the orphan’ in the film, which I think makes sense) can be a right little madam at times.

A right little madam that uses hammers, guns, knives and whatever else she can get her strangely aged looking hands on to murder, maim and cause general mayhem.

Horror Hints #36 – Never become a recovering alcoholic. When someone tries to kill you, nobody will believe you.

All this murderous behaviour means that Lee Remick, sorry, Kate Coleman soon grows to hate and fear Esther. But because she’s a recovering alcoholic nobody believes her. When she speaks about her fears with her husband and psychiatrist they basically just laugh, pull faces and mimic someone swigging from a bottle behind her back.

Thank god then that a bit of internet research by Kate (she Googled 'horror film plot evil children') uncovers a phone number for an Estonian mental hospital...

... resulting in a phone conversation with a nice Estonian with a beard who reveals an okay-ish plot twist along with the information that Esther is a psycho killer. To be fair, the film from this point on does get quite exciting in an obvious sort of way, as Kate rushes back to the family home in a bid to save her husband and daughter from the malevolent mock-minor.

Horror Hints #34 – If you manage to knock out a psycho killer with a gun, take the gun and shoot them in the head. Just to make sure.

And that’s it. Go in with low expectations and you might just find that The Orphan is worth it. And to end on a positive note, the performance by young Isabelle Fuhrman is very, very good. Oh, I almost forgot one...

Horror Hints #82 – If you have children, don’t live in a house right next to an icy lake.

Actually, that probably is genuinely good advice. Take it from me, ice can be dangerous... (hops off into the sunset)

THE WICKER MAN (2006)

2010-03-03T11:46:00.010Z

You know, here in the Igloo I have gradually grown to have a genuine love of horror films. And I know how easy it is to mock bad examples of the genre. It’s not big and it’s not clever so from now on, I'm refusing to do it.

Anyway, here’s some selected quotes from other people who have watched The Wicker Man:

1. “The minute your hero comes to the rescue dressed as a bear, you should know something has gone horribly awry."

2. “I found the fictional island of Summerisle quite similar to certain parts of North Norfolk, particularly that every thing you ask is received with a blank expression.”

3. “Nicholas cage is just so funny! He should do more comedy!”

4. “He punched 3 females, so what? It was required for the scene. Get over it.”

For some reason this one is my favourite, because a) it’s not trying to be funny and b) the image it manages to create:

5. “After the cinema, my boyfriend was so mad he couldn’t speak about it”

Here are some more words of wisdom:

And finally, "Judo Chop!"

THE BEGINNING OF THE END (1957)

2010-02-15T14:56:00.010Z

Day #769

Where did all the time go? How long has it been since I last spoke? Am I nearer to finding a way out of here? Will I ever be able to find an answer? Do these films hold a clue? Why can't I stop asking questions? And who am I asking, anyway?

But good news! I have the answer! for the last month and a half, the lack of films has given me the chance to take stock of my situation. I have been making incredibly detailed notes of my life before and after entering the igloo. Of my friends and family, work colleagues and enemies. My thoughts, my dreams, my hopes, my killing sprees, all lovingly recorded. And lo! There is a pattern! And within that pattern lies the reason I am here! And within that reason lies a way out! Let me just gather my notes to explain to you... let me just sit down beside the fire and grab my notes...beside the fire. The roaring fire. The roaring paper-fuelled fire...

... bollocks.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END (1957)

The Beginning of the End is a terrible yet great 50's big-bug flick, and comes courtesy of legendary sci-fi director Bert I. Gordon, aka 'Mr Big', 'Big Bug Bert', 'The Notorious B.I.G', 'The Bugman', 'Mr.Big Bug', 'The Biggster' or 'Bert' to name but a few of his aliases.

With a name like Mr. Big, I always imagined that Bert I. Gordon would be... a big guy. A huge, cigar chomping figure, when in fact it turns out that he was in fact young, slim and nothing at all like the picture below. However - I do like the idea of someone searching for a picture of Bert I. Gordon and cutting and pasting this one without reading the review so...

Bert I. Gordon, yesterday.

Bert I. Gordon (AKA Monsieur Grande) didn't make movies that were (or are) considered 'good'. But he did know how to make a profit - by giving the drive-in going public what they want. And if the public want big bug and monster movies, then hell, he'd give them one! Using the scariest insect possible! In other words, the scariest insect that hadn't been previously used in a big bug or monster movie.

Which, in this case, ruled out ants (see 'Them') dammit! Scorpions are scary but I'm almost certain that 'The Black Scorpion' featured one... same goes for spiders, wasps, flies, even... hmmm, we seem to be running out of ideas... unless... grasshoppers! They can be pretty frightening!

And so we come to the beginning of The Beginning of The End, where we meet the fabulous Peggy Castle playing Audrey Ames, a stunningly attractive yet feisty reporter whose seen a lot of action. No, not that sort of action - I mean military action. World War 2, Korea, Vietnam, Cambodia, Kuwait, Northern Ireland, Iraq and all sorts of Black Ops shit. Here, she's on the trail of a story that centres around the small town of Ludlow. Because sometime during the night the town of Ludlow was completely demolished, and the town's population of 150 people vanished into thin air! And a town of 150 people can't just vanish into thin air!!

She soon teams up with Ed Wainwright, an Entomologist working in a nearby Agricultural Experimental Station. Ed is experimenting - or perhaps 'messing about' would be more accurate - with radioactive plant food to make them larger and cure world hunger etc. etc. Unfortunately Ed's lack of adherence to stringent Health & Safety guidelines which, to be fair to him, probably hadn't been invented in 1957, has led to some grasshoppers breaking in and eating the radioactive foodstuffs, becoming gigantic and going on a rampage.

Peggy, Ed, and Ed's deaf mute assistant (who became a deaf mute after some sort of radiation accident at the station. Probably Ed's fault) head off on the trail of the giant grasshopers. Ed's deaf-mute assistant soon meets a grisly end at the hands of a giant grasshopper. Ed's fault again, if you ask me.

"The time will come when the beasts will inherit the earth."

Peggy and Ed go to Army HQ to grass up the grasshoppers. "Giant grasshoppers! Pah!" says the Colonel but decides to take 10 men to investigate anyway. The grasshoppers attack, the Colonel shouts "Giant grasshoppers! Run!", and beats a hasty retreat as his men get stomped left right and centre despite firing about 1000 rounds of ammunition each... Ed's fault again? It's not for me to say.

Another Army attack proves disastrous, and it quickly becomes obvious that if humanity is to survive a better plan is needed

"We may be witnessing the beginning of an era that'll mean the complete annihilation of man. "

"Annihilation?"

"Annihilation. The Beginning of the End."

Sci-Fi stalwart Morris Ankrum shows up as General Hanson, whose solution to save Chicago is to blow it up with a nuclear bomb. It sounds like a fine plan, but he gives Ed and his team of scientists a few hours to create another, less 'atomic bomby' solution to the giant grasshopper crisis.

Just in the nick of time Ed comes up with a plan. Something to do with using sound to lure the grasshoppers into the ocean and blow them up. At last he redeems himself, and he and Audrey fall into each other's arms and live happily after, ending The Beginning of the End...

I wish the same could be said for Peggie Castle herself, but it seems like she found living in this world more trouble than it was worth. She retired from acting in 1962, succumbed to alcoholism and died of cirrhosis of the liver in 1973 at the way too young age of 45. Here's looking at you kid:

Happy New Year!

2009-12-31T11:48:00.002Z

Wish you were here! And easily overpowered. I need fresh meat.

I wonder if Stoneground managed to split?

2009-12-20T00:21:00.002Z

Non-Horror Movie People Who Scare Me #2 - Private Leonard 'Gomer Pyle' Lawrence, Platoon 3092

2009-12-01T12:06:00.006Z

Oh dear. It would be very unwise to provoke this man.

Non-Horror Movie People Who Scare Me #1 - A New Series (Alternate Title 'People Who I'm Glad Are Looking At Mick Jagger Like That And Not Me")

2009-11-29T21:34:00.014Z

Unknown Hell's Angel, Altamont Speedway 1969.

More footage between 4:00-4:18 just after the dog walks across the stage (yes, you read that right). If you know him (the Hell's Angel, not the dog) please don't tell him I've posted this...

Actually, he's probably a really nice guy.

THE BODY SNATCHER (1945)

2009-11-26T01:12:00.033Z

DAY #398

Another white-out. A white-out out. I mean outside, its a white-out. An out and out white-out in fact.

It's completely white is what I'm trying to say (outside).

So lots of time to sit here and think... to reflect on my life before the igloo...

God, I loved women. Loved them so much that I wanted to hold them, squeeze them and never let go. This led to all sorts of lawsuits involving complicated legal jargon such as 'strangulation' and 'murder', and at one stage I was even accused of being sexist!

"What's wrong with being sexy, love?" I replied to the female lawyer, pretending to have misheard her.

But she didn't see the joke, and went on to cite the fact that most of my 12 marriages had ended acrimoniously. She even had the gall to suggest that the only reason some of the marriages hadn't ended acrimoniously was because the bodies were never recovered from the reservoir*.

In my defence, I tried reminding her of the time I judged a beauty competition. But in response, all that this efficient, well-prepared and sexy lawyer did was quote my beauty competition judging notes back at me - in particular the page where I'd scrawled "All whores must die!" across the page in a mixture of my blood and semen.

I said no more on the subject, but to this day I still regret judging that beauty competition. It caused me no end of bother, especially when the winner went missing after an evening stroll with me.

But all this happened long ago, and beauty competitions are probably a lot less controversial these days. So! Enough attempts at reminiscing - here comes a film!

THE BODY SNATCHER (1945)

Misleading Poster Alert...

The Body Snatcher is one of three horror films in which Boris Karloff starred for producer Val Lewton (the others being ISLE OF THE DEAD & BEDLAM). Tis based on a Robert Louis Stevenson story, set in his home-town of olde Edinburgh around the 1820s. The tale centres around an idealistic young medical student Fettes (played by Russell Wade who pronounces Edinburgh as Edin-bow-row in his first scene which, as a Scot myself, is pretty unforgivable so I won't be mentioning him again), who gets taken on as an apprentice by the renowned Dr. MacFarlane. Now all we need are specimens to examine so we can work out how to save a young girl's life...

Although this film reunites Lugosi and Karloff, the main action is between Henry Daniell as Dr. Macfarlane and Karloff as his nemesis, Cabman and part-time Graverobber and Murderer John Gray.

Both actors play their parts superbly, no doubt helped by the beautifully written dialogue. Daniell manages to elicit real sympathy for his character even though he's a humourless and highly-strung arse, and Karloff gives a wonderfully sinister yet intelligent performance as the mocking Gray, who seems to have an uncanny hold over the doctor. Maybe they share a secret past?

The relationship between these two characters is what makes The Body Snatcher so compelling, locked as they are in some sort of death-embrace just like a pair of... I can't remember exactly. But I do seem to recall watching a nature show with two insects fighting which resulted in a ghastly stale-mate, where the next move would mean instant death for both of them. Anyway, that's Gray and Macfarlane.

Has anyone compared this film to Cape Fear before? I'd certainly do an in-depth study of the themes shared between the two If I wasn't restricted to watching random films in this bloody igloo. For a start, there are some obvious similarities in the storyline of both films, with the not-so-innocent protagonist coming up against a less than welcome reminder from their past. In both films, its the 'good guys' who seem less comfortable in their own skin, whereas Gray and Cady seem to have no such problems with what they are. They have come to terms with the evil that men (usually themselves) do. Also, in a touch which I particularly enjoy, throughout both films our flawed heroes are saddled with something of a pet-name by their nemesises - Gray enjoys referring to Macfarlane as 'Toddy' with the same evident relish that Max Cady greets Sam Bowden as 'Counselor'.

As I alluded to earlier, the relationship between Macfarlane and Gray surely can't end well for either of them. And it doesn't. No one here gets out alive, yet even in death the two can't be separated it would seem...

The Body Snatcher is a true horror classic which has stood the test of time remarkably well. It explores ethical issues regarding our quest of knowledge that are still relevant today, and offers a stark warning of what happens when good men allow bad things to happen to achieve their own goals. And for many, it's Karloff's finest performance.

"I am a small man, a humble man. Being poor I have had to do much that I did not want to do. But so long as the great Dr McFarlane comes to my whistle, that long am I a man. If I have not that then I have nothing. Then I am only a cabman and a grave robber. You'll never get rid of me, Toddy."

MORE KARLOFF AT THE BORIS KARLOFF BLOGATHON

* Reservoir is just a complete guess of course.

Would you buy a lighter from this man?

2009-11-24T14:24:00.001Z

It's Day 2 of the Karloff Blogathon. But first, a word from our sponsors...

Happy Birthday William Henry Pratt (1887-1969)

2009-11-23T09:21:00.010Z

Here's a Google Map View of a nice little Turkish restaurant in 36 Forest Hill Road, Camberwell, Sarf London:

View Larger Map

And here's a close-up of that blue plaque on the wall...

Yes, what better way to start the Boris Karloff Blogathon with a small piece on his early life?

William Henry Pratt was born on this day, the 23rd November, in 1887 at the address above (not a Turkish restaurant back then as my extensive research has revealed).

The family moved to Enfield in 1892, and stayed at several addresses, one of them being 38 Uplands Park Road.

View Larger Map

William's first performance - as a monster - was at St. Magdalene's Church, probably in December 1896, playing the Demon King in a production of Cinderella.

"When I was nine I played the Demon King in Cinderella and it launched me on a long and happy life of being a monster."

Here's a pic of Reverend George Turner (St. Magdalene's 1885-1910), who would have given William that first big break:

Unfortunately Reverend Turner passed away in 1929, a couple of years before Frankenstein and The Mummy were launched onto an unsuspecting public. I wonder what he'd have thought?

Hammer Horror Movie Posters That Make Dracula Look Constipated #5 - Scars of Dracula

2009-11-20T11:10:00.006Z

5 lines that would have ruined the flow of Quint’s ‘Indianapolis’ speech in Jaws

2009-11-19T16:04:00.008Z

Quint’s Indianapolis speech in Jaws has rightly gone down in movie history.

Forget about Brando’s incomprehensible mumbling in the shadows at the end of Apocalypse Now, THIS is real Horror…

"Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes into our side, Chief. We was comin' back from the island of Tinian to Leyte... just delivered the bomb. The Hiroshima bomb. Eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in 12 minutes.

Didn't see the first shark for about a half an hour. Tiger. 13-footer. You know how you know that when you're in the water, Chief? You tell by looking from the dorsal to the tail.

What we didn't know, was our bomb mission had been so secret, no distress signal had been sent. They didn't even list us overdue for a week.

Very first light, Chief, sharks come cruisin', so we formed ourselves into tight groups. You know, it was kinda like old squares in the battle like you see in the calendar named "The Battle of Waterloo" and the idea was: shark comes to the nearest man, that man he starts poundin' and hollerin' and screamin' and sometimes the shark go away... but sometimes he wouldn't go away. Sometimes that shark he looks right into ya. Right into your eyes. And, you know, the thing about a shark... he's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll's eyes. When he comes at ya, doesn't seem to be living... until he bites ya, and those black eyes roll over white and then... ah then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin'. The ocean turns red, and despite all the poundin' and the hollerin', they all come in and they... rip you to pieces.

You know by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men. I don't know how many sharks, maybe a thousand. I know how many men, they averaged six an hour. On Thursday morning, Chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player. Boatswain's mate. I thought he was asleep. I reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up, down in the water just like a kinda top. Upended. Well, he'd been bitten in half below the waist.

Noon, the fifth day, Mr. Hooper, a Lockheed Ventura saw us. He swung in low and he saw us... he was a young pilot, a lot younger than Mr. Hooper. Anyway, he saw us and he come in low and three hours later a big fat PBY comes down and starts to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened... waitin' for my turn. I'll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred men went in the water; 316 men come out and the sharks took the rest, June the 29th, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the bomb."

As great as it reads, Robert Shaw then manages to transform it into something unforgettable (in one take apparently, after a disastrous drunken attempt during the previous day's shoot).

Thank God then, that Spielberg ditched plans to have Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) interrupt Quint with a selection of wisecracks. These would have completely ruined the flow, and in my humble opinion would have made the speech less impactful:

1. “They never sent a distress message out? You can sue for them that you know.”

2. “Shut up and look over here, I forgot about this conger eel bite mark on my cock!”

3. “1000 sharks my arse! What, did someone actually count them?”

4. “Hang on, do shark’s eyes really roll over white when they eat something? Does that actually happen?”

5. “How come you won’t wear a life-jacket again, though? That’s just stupid.”

SHOCK WAVES (1977)

2009-11-15T21:55:00.023Z

Day #397

Back in the days before I became The Igloo Keeper, I was a bit of a hooligan - especially when I was with the lads and we had a few beers in us!

I remember one trip we took to the Munich Beer Festival, when we all ended up on stage, shouting “Enger-land! Enger-land!” while we were simulating sex with each other. While we were dressed as prominent members of the Third Reich. If memory serves me right I was Hitler, Fat Daz was dressed up as Goering and Joey the Limp was Goebbels.

It was a great night but we were lucky not to get arrested, in hindsight. Especially as the night in question was 4th September 1939, the day after Great Britain declared war on Germany! Luckily I had incriminating photographs of Karl Fiehler the Mayor of Munich (having group sex with Goering, Goebbels and Hitler at the Munich Beer Festival, coincidentally) and he was able to spirit us away from the enraged crowd so that were all safely back in blighty in time for a spot of breakfast at The Criterion.

But that was a long time ago, and that silly nazi party full of drug addicts, sexual deviants and unhinged twats, has surely long since vanished from our collective memory. Here's a film...

SHOCKWAVES (1977)

Don't believe anyone that tells you Shock Waves is an under-rated classic. It's not.

In fact, it's the worst type of bad film - one that ruins a promising idea. That decent idea is having Nazi Zombies attack a group of holidaymakers shipwrecked on a near-deserted island. But Shock Waves is so disjointed and barely coherent that by the end of the film I was no longer interested, and had drifted away into that land of make believe where Quentin and Eli regularly commission me to re-make under-rated horror classics (that aren't actually under-rated) based on 5 key points. And here they are:

1 More Blood

Shock Waves is a zombie flick without any blood. There should be a law against this, surely? All zombie flicks should have gallons of blood, and a few kilos of entrails thrown in for good measure. Shock Waves has neither. When the zombies attack they grab their victim like they're asking for a dance and slip back underwater with them. How disappointingly unhorrific of them. I understand the film-makers were on a tight budget but come-on, how much does red food-colouring and some cheap sausages cost?

2 Less Daylight

Again, for budgetary reasons I understand most of the filming was done in the day-time. A big mistake, as the zombie nazis lack of decent make-up soon become clear. Get them out of the daylight and make them lurk in the dark and creep around in the shadows like any zombie worth their salt, and we've got a scare factor of x5.5 or even more. It's not rocket science.

3 Less Hyperspace

The piss-poor plotting of Shock Waves means that characters routinely split up from each other without warning and turned up in completely different locations in the next scene with no explanation. This is pretty elementary stuff. So let's just sit down, take a few deep breaths and try to make it clear where the characters are going and why they're going there, rather than flitting about like your last man on 'Asteroids' with a stuck 'Hyperspace' button.

4 Less Waste, More Class

If you're lucky enough to get 2 of the finest ever Horror actors to appear in your film, namely John Carradine and Peter Cushing, write a scene for them! Carradine dies before Cushing even appears in Shock Waves, a great waste. Alternatively, if you're lucky enough to have Peter Cushing in your Horror film with one of the finest speaking voices in the English language, write some dialogue that fills his screen-time (believe me, he'll make your shit sound convincing) rather than have him aimlessly splosh about in knee length water for longer than is seemly for a man of his advancing years.

5 Military Precision
Some genuine nazis, yesterday

At least make your Nazi Zombies act like they've had some semblance of military training. At no point in Shock Waves do we get a sense of impending doom, or even that the Nazi Zombies are working towards any plan. They just kind of shamble about, and appear to bump into their victims almost at random. Horror Screenwriting Template #12 = Put your victims in an enclosed space and surround it by zombies. Simple yet effective.

There you have it then, 5 points to make the remake of Shock Waves a Horror to reckon with. And this time round I'd have Sean Pertwee star in it, he loves getting disembowelled...

... and let's have Brian Blessed as the Boat Captain!

Tune in next week, Iglooists, for my remake of 'Paranormal Activities' with Danny De Vito and Arnold Schwarzenneger...

Hammer Horror Movie Posters That Make Dracula Look Constipated #4 - Dracula Has Risen From The Grave

2009-11-14T22:55:00.003Z

Japanese Trailers For English Language Horror Films #237

2009-11-14T17:14:00.002Z

Konichiwa to my Japanese Iglooists!

KILLDOZER (1974)

2009-11-12T01:21:00.024Z

Day #110101011011010101100

Despite everything else there are moments of tranquil beauty in this place. Like stepping out of the igloo into a sunlit morning and taking in the endless miles of virgin snow shimmering reluctantly like the veil of a teenage bride.

But even such small pleasures cannot be relied upon because as I exited the igloo today to take my morning constitutional, a terrible sight met my eyes. Churned earth. Mud everywhere (surprising, as there's no mud under the ice). Large tracks despoiling the landscape. What in God's name?

The tracks were 100's of metres long in parts. It took me a while to discover that they formed letters, and even longer to painstakingly follow the tracks and record what they were trying to say.

When eventually I came to the end of the last track I reviewed my scrap of paper to try and make sense of the message.

It simply said "Duck!".

As I stood there, trying to work out what this could possibly mean, something hit me on the back of the head and I passed out.

When I came to I was in the igloo, back on my bed, naked and shivering. There were several puncture marks on my right arm and a sharp pain in my ar...ha! Here comes a film!

KILLDOZER (1974)

Killdozer starts with a view of a strange rock hurtling towards earth. This is a great start to a film, any film. There hasn't yet been a film made that starts with a view from space of a strange rock hurtling towards earth that has been a let-down. Except perhaps, for An Inconvenient Truth. And even then, it would only have taken a little bit of imagination on the part of the film-makers to turn Al Gore into a mindless space zombie and have his Powerpoint presentation run amok, killing the world's leading environmental campaigners. The tagline could be 'Nothing is scarier than the truth - apart form Excelor, the mutant spreadsheet!'. Maybe an idea for the sequel, when global warming turns out to be a myth*.

Killdozer is a perfectly formed and skillfully directed 'made for TV' horror movie from the early 70's, with a solid, professional cast that has the balls to play it straight. See, this is what's lacking in a lot of modern horror movies. Balls.

And few have bigger balls than Clint Walker (Kelly) the gentle giant who we last saw in The Dirty Dozen complaining that he didn't like being pushed:

"I didn't mean ta kill him, Major. Honest!"

The rest of the guys have great construction worker type names like Clyde and Mack (but disappointingly, no Kowalski), and together form a standard horror template that has stood the test of time - isolate a group of bickering humans and make them share their living space with something that wants to kill them horribly (Alien, The Thing, Killer Shrews etc).

This small, isolated group of bickering construction workers discovers a strange looking rock on the island that they're working on. They try shifting it with their bulldozer. The rock glows blue, the bulldozer glows blue and Mack, the driver, screams! He's been mysteriously hurt and dies later, not before warning Kelly about the bulldozer.

Can there really be something strange going on with the bulldozer? A standard D-9 to my untrained eye, with its primary working tools being the blade, affixed to the front and controlled by six hydraulic arms, and the optional ripper, which can be attached to the back. The blade is mainly intended for earth-moving and bulk material handling - pushing up sand, dirt, and rubble. It also can be used to push other heavy equipment such as earth-moving scraper pans.

But yes, there is something strange going on with the D-9, and I don't just mean the fact that the drive sprocket has been elevated to give the belly pan more ground clearance. You see, it's turned into Killdozer - an evil killing machine, with ominous flashing headlights for eyes, and a cool wibbly wobbly synthesizer theme tune that sounds a bit like someone from the 70s would imagine a killer bulldozer's brain would sound like.

Soon the gang of workers are pitched into a battle of survival. It's man against machine. And machines don't die. To make matters worse, the gang do stupid things similar to this guy...

...like trying to hide in metal tubes right in front of the bulldozer (goodbye Al) or stalling a car and stubbornly trying to restart it right in front of the bulldozer rather than making a run for it (farewell Clyde, hope they let you go for that swim in heaven).

It's natural to watch Killdozer and think of ways to get the better of it. What would we do in a similar situation? Sitting on it's roof and having a nap until things blow over sounds like a fine idea to me, but of course, that wouldn't stop its murderous tendencies. Machines can't be killed, which presents us with a real problem so... why not make Killdozer fall in love?

If you don't believe it's possible check out this little cutie called Yuchai:

Yuchai - or YCT306S-5A to her friends - has a firm yet supple yellow rounded fiberglass body with a small LW-6 backhoe on its cute little rear hitch. Of particular interest to Killdozer would surely be the fact that she has a full width box scraper!

However, just as the final two members of the construction team, Kelly and Holvig, are discussing the possibility of a love match between the two dozers, Killdozer comes crashing into view and all thoughts of romance are gone!

Kelly and Holvig have been busting each other's chops all the way through the film but are slowly growing to respect one other...

... and after an unsuccessful but nicely choreographed robot-wars style scrap (no pun intended) between their crane and Killdozer (which this still photograph doesn't quite capture the excitement of)...

...they come up with a last ditch plan - and it's an old classic - electrocution!

Working in perfect harmony now, they lure Killdozer into their hastily constructed killing zone and flick the switch. Killdozer bursts into flame and his synth-soundtrack turns briefly into a free-form jazz wig-out before going silent. His headlights flicker for one final time and turn off. He's dead.

The two buddies have survived, and all is well - but how will they explain things to the authorities? "Tell them the guys died in landslide." suggests Holvig. "Nope," replies Kelly "you gotta tell the truth..." Which is a noble sentiment for sure, but I do hope that Holvig eventually managed to change Kelly's mind... company investigators tend not to believe the truth. Ask Ripley.

* - I know it isn't, I'm scared too!

Suitable Horror Fonts #45

2009-11-12T00:09:00.003Z

Great Horror Recipes #56 - An American Werewolf in London

2009-11-07T01:20:00.012Z

Following on from the success of last week's Exorcist Pea Soup recipe, here's a classic American dish as featured in An American Werewolf in London:

Toast with Jam & Egg

Ingredients:
2 slices white bread
Margarine
Jam
1 egg

Method:
Toast the bread and spread with margarine and jam.
Fry an egg sunny side up.

To assemble, put the fried egg on one plate and the jam & toast on the other.

The dish is now complete and is ideal for sharing with friends. It is inspired, of course, by Jack's visit to David in hospital where he grabs a piece of toast and dips it straight into David's virgin yolk.

This seems like quite a strange act to us non-American viewers, because the toast was covered with jam, as we saw and heard the porter explain in the scene before.

We managed to track this porter down after all these years, and asked him about the breakfast that he served up to David on that particular day. Here's what he had to say - "How the bloody hell should I know I only push the bloody trolleys innit!"

Perhaps the recently undead have no sense of taste.

Unsuitable Horror Fonts #16

2009-11-06T00:24:00.001Z

The Fly (1986)

2009-11-03T01:05:00.031Z

Day #478

Time flies. Especially when you're having as much fun as I am in this GODFORSAKEN HELLHOLE!

But it's not all bad. Much excitement was to be had today as I discovered a small door in the igloo, previously hidden behind the TV set! I made my way through it and appeared in another igloo!! Very strange. What's more, when I left this igloo I noticed another lone igloo in the distance. I realise that I'm saying 'igloo' too much so I'll keep it brief...

... walking towards it, I started to feel that it was... familiar somehow (and I'm sure regular readers will have the same familiar feeling) and lo and behold it was! It was my own igloo! Igloo of the Uncanny!!

Seems like I've stumbled upon some sort of teleportation device. And a completely useless one if I'm not much mistaken, so I boarded up the door in my own igloo, and firebombed the other igloo until it melted completely. There's only room for one igloo in this force-field and it wasn't that one. There wasn't an uncanny thing about it. Except for the fact that I'd never noticed it before, come to think of it...

THE FLY (1986)

The 1986 remake of The Fly resonates with familiar Crononbergian themes of science run amok, loss of control, disease, technology and mutating bodies - themes that any horror blogger worth their salt would have a field day examining and exploring.

Right then, let's talk about Jeff Goldblum's stupid 80's mullet.

To be fair to him, it was the 80's. And if you happen to see a photograph of him now he looks perfectly presentable. But watching The Fly now, and seeing 80's Jeff with his mullet and jacket sleeves rolled up to the elbows is not an experience for the faint-hearted. Neither is this mis-judged teaser poster that focused on the common housefly's less appealing toilet habits:

It's not just Jeff's looks that grab your attention of course - it's his unique way of delivering lines. So unique that I can't understand a word he says in anything he does. Whenever I watch Jeff Goldblum in a film he looks like someone rehearsing his lines to himself before the actual take. Perhaps, as I write this, there are vaults full of film canisters containing the 'correct takes' that were filmed just after the ones we've been enduring all these years. 'correct takes' where he is speaking in a voice louder than Brian Blessed, enunciating every syllable as clearly as Rex Harrison.

Come to think of it that's pretty unlikely - if these legendary 'correct takes' ever existed surely Jeff himself would have said something by now? Although maybe he did, and nobody understood what he saying.

Anyway. Jeff Goldblum is Brundle, a brilliant scientist who lives in one of those semi-derelict loft/warehouse spaces that only people in 80's films ever live in. He invites Veronica (Geena Davis) back to his place one night and, as brilliant scientists do, gets his pod out. After doing a neat teleportation trick, he is alarmed to discover that Veronica is a reporter after a scoop! He throws her out / meets her again / falls in love / gets her pregnant / turns into a fly / gets his head blown off.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. There's another man in Veronica's life who has the best beard I've ever seen, and the best name I've ever heard.

Meet Stathis Borans.

Stathis is a great character who spends the entire film asking Veronica for a shag. The only time he doesn't ask her for a shag is when she's having an abortion. But then, this is a dream sequence so it doesn't really count. In fact, it was Stathis's lack of asking Veronica for a shag that clued me up to the fact that it was a dream sequence. Stathis is a complete tosser but interestingly, becomes a bit of a bloody hero by the end of the film.

Long before the hero bit though, we see him sneaking around Veronica's place and taking showers just for the hell of it. It's not a completely random piece of shower-taking because we discover they used to be in a relationship, and it would appear that Stathis has paid a visit to wind her up and show that he still very much has the hots for Veronica. Albeit in a creepy stalkerish way. He was probably waiting for hours in the shower before Veronica turns up. He may even have had a look through her underwear drawer. I know I would.

The next time we see Stathis he's gone off the rails even more, and is in a rage because of Veronica and Brundle's blossoming relationship. This leads to him confronting Veronica in a store with a great line, "I followed you - Psychology Today my ass!"

And he follows it up with another cracker. When Veronica explains that she's only spending time with Brundle because she's "finally onto something that's big. Huge!" he replies - quick as a flash, mind - "What, like his cock?" This is a genius response, but unfortunately it does have the effect of making Jeff Goldblum's cock spring up in your mind. A long and thin one, surely.

Ok, less cock more action - flushed with the success of teleporting a live baboon, Brundle gets pished and teleports himself.

Unfortunately it turns out he's left a fly undone, and it has disastrous consequences... as you'd expect, if you're watching a horror film called 'The Fly'.

It's not just his cock that Brundle has to start worrying about. All manner of disgusting and repulsive things start happening to his body and in a rather icky bathroom scene he finds that his teeth and fingernails are falling off. There is also some pus involved.

Soon, Jeff Goldblum has disappeared completely underneath some fantastically hideous make-up. I'm not having a sly dig at Jeff, but only when he is completely unrecognisable does the film become really enjoyable to watch, as it moves up a gear into a full-blown work of Cronenbergian terror.

"I'm an insect who dreamt he was a man and loved it.But the dream is over...and the insect is awake."

The final showdown is terrific, as Brundle returns with pregnant Veronica to his warehouse loft apartment to find it completely empty, burgled by local hoods who took advantage of him never locking the doors.

Not true, of course! Brundle returns with pregnant Veronica to his warehouse loft apartment full of his teleportation gear to fulfil his scheme of creating the perfect family by fusing them altogether. Okay, so not a great idea but he has been under a lot of pressure.

Luckily, Stathis is there and this time he's not in the mood for a shower - he's packing a shotgun! And despite getting a hand and foot melted by Brundle's stomach acid...

...(bet that hurt) he manages to shoot one of the teleporters and mess it up enough for Veronica to be freed unharmed, and for Brundle to emerge looking like a bag of shit - fused with the teleport and all sorts of other stuff that wasn't in his happy family plan. He's put out of his misery by a shotgun blast from Veronica. Stathis only has time to ask Veronica for a quick shag before the credits roll.

So there you have it. Turns out that man shouldn't play God, which is pretty obvious when you think about it. I'm surprised nobody's mentioned it before...

As a final treat, here's one of those mad Polish posters:

Horrible Trailers #33 - Exorcist 2 The Heretic (1977)

2009-10-27T00:45:00.004Z

If you're lost for ideas for your next trailer why not simply fast-forward through the entire film in a minute and a half, and add a freaky psychedelic jazz wigout over the top?

Is your son the Antichrist? A handy cut-out-and-keep guide...

2009-10-23T15:50:00.011+01:00

You're the proud father of a new son. Congratulations! What's more, things are going particularly well at work. So why are you feeling so uneasy?

Y'know, it's natural for every new father to suspect that his son is the Antichrist so don't despair. Simply take this quick quiz and all will be revealed...

N.B. A print-out of this post makes a thoughtful and useful christening present for other first-time dads!

1. What childcare provisions do you currently have in place for your son?

a) We look after him ourselves of course!

b) 2 days at a local nursery every week – usually Monday and Wednesday.

c) Not quite sure. A sinister woman turned up unannounced one day, so we’ve just let her look after him and take complete charge of running our household.

2. What is your child’s favourite toy or play-thing?

a) A red wind-up racing car called ‘Roary’.

b) A glove puppet in the shape of a cat that he insists on taking everywhere - even to bed!

c) A bloody great Rottweiler that growls constantly.

3. What relationship does your wife have with her son?

a) They are inseparable, laughing and hugging each other constantly.

b) They obviously love each other very much, but when he does something naughty he gets scolded in no uncertain terms.

c) She screams when his name is mentioned and refuses to let him anywhere near her hospital bed.

4. Does your child have any irrational fears?

a) He’s not took keen on the dark, so we’ve installed a night-light.

b) He cried for hours after his last visit to the dentist.

c) Any church. He’s not too keen on Longleat Safari Park either.

5. What are you planning on buying your child for Xmas?

a) A very small piano. Nothing too expensive, mind.

b) A fire-engine.One of those that he can sit on and ride around in. Perhaps a matching helmet too.

c) 7 knives pounded into his chest in the shape of a cross.

Mostly ‘A’s

No need to worry, you have a perfectly normal boy! Although that doesn’t mean your wife should start balancing precariously on balconies when he’s riding his tricycle nearby.

Mostly ‘B’s

He’s not the Antichrist. He’s just a very naughty boy.

Mostly ‘C’s

Sorry, but yes – your son is the Antichrist. However, if it’s any consolation, it’s my problem too. I took a photograph of myself in the mirror and only went and cut my bloody head off! Shall we give him an early Christmas present?

HORROR LOOK-ALIKES #78

2009-10-23T09:54:00.008+01:00

The little shit from Let The Right One In & the little shit from Quantum of Solace...

Dominic Green (Mathieu Amalric) about to bully an unusually timid James Bond in 'Quantum of Solace'

Conny (Patrik Rydmark) from 'Let The Right One In' before the embarassing swimming pool incident

TOP 5 LINES THAT WOULD HAVE FUNDAMENTALLY CHANGED THE COURSE OF AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON...

2009-10-22T23:53:00.013+01:00

1. "Ah, Italy! Aren't you glad we started here and not England? And look - there's Debbie!"

2. "What's the 5-pointed star on the wall for you say? Buy us a drink and I'll tell you lads, it's a cracking story!"

2. "Damn, missed the board again, I'm always doing that! It's these darts, the flights on them are well dodgy.."

4. "I should kill myself, Jack? Right you are then, have that other piece of toast while I jump out this hospital windo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o..."

5. "You want to come back and stay with me in my nurses flat? Get lost you nutter! How do you even know my name?"

An American Werewolf in London (1981)

2009-10-21T10:23:00.053+01:00

Day #1325

Right. Where was I?

Down a crevice, that's where. After a climb that must have taken me 2 months, I emerged from the darkness only to be set upon by some sort of madman... or a monster!

When I awoke from what felt like a 10-day coma, my wounds had been cleaned and I was lying safe and snug, back in the igloo. Weird. And then, right on queue, the TV crackles into life and a film appears...

AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (1981)

This isn't the first time I've watched American Werewolf in London. It's my favourite horror film, so I've seen it a lot since my first viewing aged 11. Back then, armed with a clunky VHS recorder and a taped copy of the film, I learned to recite all the dialogue (this was before puberty kicked in). But don't worry, I'm not going to do that today...

And I'm not going to review the film either - we've all seen it, and if you haven't then go and watch it now....back? Good. What I'm going to do now is ask - and attempt to answer - 5 long-lost legendary American Werewolf questions. These questions fill my waking hours and sleepless nights here in Igloo-Land. These questions may not have been asked before. Some of them may not even have an answer. But these questions are important...

1. Boy, could they play darts?

"You, made me mis-s-s-s... I've never missed that board before."

So just how good is this guy? He's never missed a dartboard in his life? Does that sound likely? Well, no it doesn't. But let's listen to what he says again, "I've never missed that board before...". So who's to say that he's not referring to a new dartboard that The Slaughtered Lamb had installed a couple of days ago? We'll have to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Okay, let's have a look at how well he plays the game...

We see him hit the bullseye in the first shot of the board, having already hit 14 and 18. That makes 50 (bull) + 14 + 18 = 82, and every good darts player knows that for an 82 finish, you’d go for the bull first of all. Which he may have done, judging from the fact that the 14 is so close to the bullseye. But that would have left him 68 in which case he’d probably have gone 18, bullseye… ah - which actually he did. So I'm going to have to say yes - he could play darts.

My only minor gripe would be that Jack's question - about the 5-pointed star - that apparently made him mis-s-s that board, was asked as the entire pub was laughing hysterically at the Alamo joke. So the darts player must have been lining up his shot as the whole pub was erupting with laughter. Surely he should have waited for a bit of quiet until he played his shot? And as Jack's question did actually quieten the pub down almost instantly, he wouldn't have had to wait long. With a little bit more common sense, and a little bit more patience, his run of 'never having missed that board before' could have continued much longer. Something to think about for all potential darts players out there...

2. How are you supposed to 'beware the moon'?

"Beware the moon, lads!"

Come on, just what is anyone supposed to with that piece of advice? Beware the moon - okay thanks Brian, I’ll keep away from it if I see it, shall I?

It’s useless advice almost on a par with "Beware the Ides of March” given to Julius Caesar. How do you beware a date, in the name of (the unvanquished) god?

I’d also argue that the "Stay off the moors, stick to the road!" comments given to the lads would have been equally useless in the event of a werewolf attack. We see the road later, and there are no fences, no nothing between it and the moors. Unless there's an ancient part of werewolf mythology that says werewolves can't go on roads, then it would seem that David and Jack are in deep shit the minute they leave the Slaughtered Lamb, no matter how many pieces of local wisdom they remembered.

I tell you what would have been useful though – letting Jack and David STAY IN THE PUB. Just what was their unforgivable faux pas? So they asked what an unusual feature on the wall was. Big deal. It was a fair enough question, and one that everyone in the pub should have been half expecting and have an answer prepared - why not go with the barmaid’s fairly plausible excuse later in the film – that it was a 200 year old feature and nobody know what it means? But no! Better to go into a state of shock and condemn a couple of nice young men to their deaths.

3. How hard is a madman?

The first time Dr. Hirsch sees David he explains how lucky he was to survive the attack because 'they say a madman has the strength of ten'.

So why don't either Dr.Hirsch or David mention this a short time later when they hear Sergeant McManus comment to Inspector Villiers that "Two strong boys would be able to defend themselves against one man..."?

Could it be that Dr. Hirsch didn't actually have any idea what he was talking about? Just how much strength does a madman actually have?

Well, my extensive research into this subject (10 minutes on Google and Wikipedia) has failed to come up with a satisfactory answer. Based on those wasted minutes, I'm going concur that Dr. Hirsch is talking out of his over-qualified arse, and that Sergeant McManus was correct. But then, we knew that all along didn't we?

4. Was nurse Alex Price mentally disturbed?

Time has been kind to nurse Alex Price, and we all remember her as the innocent heroine, fighting against the forces of darkness for the soul of her lover. But is she really whiter-than-white? Could she even be mentally disturbed herself? Let's examine her behaviour in detail:

She takes a disturbed patient back to her flat and has sex with him because she finds him a 'little bit sad'. She threatens a child patient by asking if he's ever been severely beaten about the face and neck. She rents a large flat in a prime location in London that must cost more than she gets paid. She cracks up laughing when her disturbed lover tells her he's seen a vision of his dead friend, and to cap it all she ends up committing bestiality by telling a werewolf that's about to bite her head off that she loves it...

Not such an angel now, is she?

5. Why didn't Jack go to pieces sooner?

We see Jack decompose throughout the film, from being a 'fresh kill' in the hospital to a skeleton in the porn theatre. The idea being that he's decomposing as he would have in real life. But hang on just a minute...

David's been in a coma for 10 days. So when Jack first appears shouldn't he look like a 10 day old corpse? And not, as he does, freshly slaughtered with that little dangly flap of skin on his neck. Furthermore, the time from his appearance in the hospital to the porn theatre is only a day or two, which is way too short to turn into a skeleton.

Of course, all the above could be explained by Jack being a figment of David's imagination. But then, that's another question - perhaps one that I'll ask in a future post dealing with question numbers 6 to 10... like, was The Slaughtered Lamb a real ale pub? Was Debbie Klein really mediocre? Did Dr. Hirsch's receptionist really tell Roger Mathison that he'd died from an old war wound??

Until then... stay on the moors, lads... stay on the moors.

Stay off the moors. Sorry.

An American Werewolf in... Glasgow?

2009-10-15T10:43:00.004+01:00

Edgar Wright on An American Werewolf in London

2009-10-14T23:41:00.007+01:00

Blast! I've been stuck down a crevice for the last 4 months. Almost at the top now though, Igloo fans! In the meantime, here's a guest reviewer:

MIRRORS (20008)

2009-06-20T00:37:00.029+01:00

Day #1253

I sit here crushed (don't worry, not literally) and despondent. So much hope and excitement cruelly snatched from my grasp!

It all started this morning when I aspied - remarkably - a creature with a human form in the distance! I beckoned to him and he waved back!! I set forth on foot towards him and judged him to be doing the same.

My suspicions were first aroused when he sneezed at exactly the same time as I. And, not long afterwards, I noticed that he discovered his fly was undone at exactly the same time as mine...

There is no mystery here. For you see, my new companion was nothing more than a reflection. Some trick of the light bouncing off a glacier, some prism refracting... or something, what am I, a F*&&%$g scientist???!!!

I apologise. There's no need for me to take it out on you. A film will surely calm me down...

MIRRORS (2008)

My thoughts after watching Mirrors were uncannily similar to my thoughts after I had sex for the first time. I enjoyed it, but deep down I knew it didn't go as well as it could have. And the more I think about it now, the more ridiculous it seems.

Also, I wish the only attractive woman involved didn't get killed half way through.

I digress. Your experience watching Mirrors will depend on a) how much you like Kiefer Sutherland...

and b) how freaked out you are by... mirrors!

Personally, I have a lot of time for Kiefer Sutherland. And as far as mirrors go, well, from a very early age, long before my visage had been ravaged by sub-zero arctic temperatures and malevolent bumble bees, I've been more than a little wary of contemplating my reflection in detail. I can sense something lurking just beyond my peripheral vision you see...

Which reminds me - I got some valuable advice from an old fortune-teller once, shortly before she died. Never look into a mirror in a dark room at midnight she said (or croaked 'neath an increasingly crushed windpipe, rather). For those phantasms beyond your vision are real. And when you stare at your own reflection for too long, there comes a moment when it becomes aware that it is being watched. This is the point when YOU become the reflection...

And so to Mirrors the movie. The plot is all too familiar - an obvious and unimaginative cross between The Shining and The Ring. Basically, an ex-ish alcoholic gets the job of watchman in a spooky old building. Shit happens, and we go on a meandering investigation that revolves a crazed little girl in a mental institution.

An awful lot of Kiefer's screen-time is thus spent in 'research' mode. Which involves him sitting at a desk, looking through endless scraps of paper and making occasional notes. You can tell when he finds out an important piece of information because he shouts 'goddamn!' and punches the nearest wall. It's gripping stuff.

A rare foray away from Kiefer's scrap-book strewn home-office is Amy Smart's death-scene. It's the highlight of the movie, not just because we get to see her fanny (don't worry UK readers - 'fanny' means 'arse' in the U.S (note to my U.S fans - 'arse' is the English for 'ass')) but that she meets a memorably grisly end, murdered by her own reflection as it rips its jaw off, knowing that the same thing would happen to her.

My main problem with Mirrors was that I just didn't buy into the premise. I couldn't find the will to spend time trying to fill in the various plot holes, like figuring out why the demon had to threaten the security guards to get their help? Would a simple 'please get me out of this mirror' have gone amiss?

And so the film ends with our hero desperately trying to escape a burning/collapsing building. Like an awful lot of other horror films.

Ah - I almost forgot about the 'twist' ending. Without giving too much away, it falls into one of the two standard horror film twists (Standard Horror Film Twist #1 - He's actually dead. Standard Horror Film Twist #2 - His 'friend' doesn't exist. He did the murders himself). You can probably guess...

Here's some rare footage of Kiefer Sutherland being asked to do the sequel which will be set on board a pirate ship:

I MARRIED A MONSTER FROM OUTER SPACE (1958)

2009-06-02T23:45:00.032+01:00

Day #292

Dreams of escape, keep me awake, I'm never gonna get out and make it away.

The force-field is getting smaller day by day. It's now 85% of its original size according to my latest calculations. This has added to my feeling of being trapped. Of having no free will. Of being endlessly miserable with no hope of change... reminds me of the last time I was married, come to think of it.

Her name was Molly, a flighty young filly from good aristocratic stock in Weybridge. Loved the outdoors and rambling endlessly in the countryside, did Molly, and soon made an acquaintance with Giles our gamekeeper. I would often see them out riding together across the moors, Molly's face lit up with a radiant smile that I didn't recognise.

Anyway, there was a fire in the gamekeeper's cottage one fateful night. Two charred bodies were discovered, and to my sheer horror they turned out to be Giles and my faithless Molly!

A rogue candle was held to be the likely cause of the fire, and old Doc Jensen's observation that both of their necks had been broken prior to death was taken as being none other than the ramblings of a decrepit alcoholic that had no business to be still employed in the medical profession. He fell into the canal and drowned not long afterwards, drunk as a lord on the way home from the local tavern no doubt... except that Julian Fielding III, our local coroner, found no trace of alcohol in Doc Jensen's system - mind you, it was common knowledge that that the coroner was a raging opium addict, and in fact only a few days after his verdict on Doc Jensen he was found with a needle stuck in his - HALLO! I've been rambling on forever, you must forgive me. For here comes a film!

I MARRIED A MONSTER FROM OUTER SPACE (1958)

One of the many great things about watching American Sci-Fi from the 50s is that it gives you a rare glimpse of a bygone era, where things were very much different. IMAMFOS (short for 'I Married A Monster From Outer Space'. Very handy. Saves me writing out 'I Married A Monster From Outer Space' for no good reason) has a wonderful example of this...

... at her wits end for MAMFOS, Marge Farrell naturally reaches for a relaxing cigarette. But then to her horror, she discovers she can't find the lighter! Her husband Bill (the MFOS) appears and tries to reassure her by explaining that "the lighter wasn't working so I sent it to get it fixed" - but Marge quickly spots something else is wrong - "Where's your drink?" she demands.

I don't know what I love most about this scene, the thought of sending out your lighter to get it renovated, or the fact that Marge panics when she spots that her husband isn't cradling a Scotch at half past 2 in the afternoon. Sounds like my kind of time, the 50s...

... and did the place where Bill took the lighter to get fixed do anything else apart from fix lighters? Or was it solely the local 'Lighter Fixing Emporium'? This kind of stuff keeps me awake at night.

But I'm getting ahead myself and forgetting something - the title. It's become such a cliche for every review of this film to mention that the title is misleadingly flippant that now, even mentioning the fact that this is a cliche has become a cliche in itself. So I've decided it's best not to mention it all. Except of course, I already have. So I'll just add that it's a perfect title. I love titles that tell you important plot details so that there's no confusion. That's why 'Honey I Shrunk the Kids' is a perfect film title, unlike 'Twelve Monkeys', a film that I wasted good money going to see only to discover that it actually starred humans.

And so to IMAMFOS - one of the classiest 50s sci-fi movies (despite the misleadingly flippant title etc. etc.). IMAMFOS is beautifully shot and directed by Gene Fowler Jnr (who also did IWATW of course). We open with an impressive tracking shot that spans the shoreline of a lake before settling upon an approaching car that parks close enough to the camera to allow us to follow its occupants as they exit and head up the path to the local bar, stopping en-route to playfully knock on the car of a courting couple. This one shot lasts just over 59 seconds. Good start.

There's an even more memorable shot later, when we're in a busy restaurant with newlyweds Bill and Marge. The camera pans to the window for a second, and then back into the room to reveal that we're now in the young couple's bedroom, much later!!! But we don't witness any conjugal shenanigans because Bill is acting a bit strange. A bit nervous. Maybe it's something to do with the fact that a flash of lightning reveals his features to be that of a hideous alien.

Oh shit!

Marge is a rather perceptive young lady, and it's not long until she comes to the conclusion that her husband is AMFOS. This all starts when she buys him a dog for a present - Bill loves dogs you see - but alien Bill doesn't. And the dog doesn't like alien Bill. And alien Bill knows that the dog doesn't like alien Bill. And the dog... anyway, matters come to a head one night when Bill... when he... there's no easy way of breaking this to you, he kills the dog. HE KILLS THE DOG! And this was the 50s! Even now, canicide is thankfully very rare in films, so this is a truly shocking scene.

There are other memorable moments throughout IMAMFOS. Like when a rather flighty lady leaves a bar and tries propositioning a hooded gentleman outside a shop. Rather unwisely, as it turns out as the hooded gentleman turns out to be AMFOS and zaps the hapless harlot in the back.

Despite all this outrageous behaviour from the MsFOS, Bill's character actually manages to elicit a fair degree of sympathy. Tom Tryon plays the part of Bill, and he's a fine looking actor - tall, imposing, marvellously athletic. He gives a very finely judged and subtle performance, one that Keanu Reeves would fuck up royally if he starred in the remake.

Having MAMFOS, Marge wants out. She hates the idea of Bill being AMFOS, and her mind is made up. Very harsh, in my opinion. I wish that she'd have fallen for alien Bill just a little bit, instead of spending the entire film running around hysterically, harping on about the fact that she MAMFOS.

I was firmly rooting for Bill throughout, and hoped in vain that there could have been just a small spark of electricity between the star-crossed couple. Even though alien Bill was a pooch-whacker, I think he would have made a more than capable husband. Deep down, he obviously felt something for Marge, despite not being able to feel anything, which is no mean feat.

Soon Marge manages to find someone who isn't an alien, who in turn manages to raise a posse from all the men in the maternity waiting room (the aliens are impotent, you see. So it wouldn't be them waiting in there). Who wants to be hanging around waiting for your wife to have a baby when you're offered a chance to go alien hunting, eh?
So off the posse goes...

It's not long until the expectant alien hunters home in on the spaceship, whereby the alien occupants make an appearance and it all kicks off big time. The humans are getting a right zapping until dog meets alien. Don't worry, the score is evened up this time. Dog wins.

There's only enough time left for alien Bill to rather sadly die in front of Marge. But there's a happy ending when she's promptly reunited with human Bill! They're going to live happily ever after surely! Let's just hope he can hold his liquor. And that he buys her a lighter for her next birthday.

MIDNIGHT MEAT TRAIN (2008)

2009-05-18T00:15:00.004+01:00

Day #76

I wake up at 7am every day. Light the gas stove. Melt some ice. Drink some of the water, use some to shave and wash.

Make some coffee, get dressed. Then sit and think, "What the hell am I going to do now?" for the next 18 hours until I fall asleep again.

That's not quite true. I hunt and fish every day. I'm quite a successful fisherman and now have several months of frozen fish stashed away in the cold-box in the igloo.

I'm less successful as a hunter, and have only caught one bumble-bee so far.

I also map my surroundings within the force-field. I've noticed changes. Sometimes the force-field is a few feet smaller, and on other ocassions I can walk right past where it was the previous day for several metres. At the moment it measures the same as when I first calculated it. Something tells me if I can find a pattern to its changes it may give me some sort of clue... but a clue to what? To tell you the truth I'm not even sure. All I know is I want out of this godforsaken place. But where would that take me? To a swift execution? Or another solitary trial, stuck in the middle of a desert perhaps?

And why the films? What can they possibly mean? Here comes another. I must be meticulous in recording every minute, every character, every scene. There may be a pattern, may be some vital clue. And so I grab some parchment and an old pencil, and get ready for several hours of intense notation:

MIDNIGHT MEAT TRAIN (2008)

What a pile of shit.

TARANTULA (1955)

2009-04-15T00:17:00.018+01:00

Day #556

Endless days with no word, no news, no contact from the outside world! Only now have I come to realise how much I rely on these films to give some meaning to my existence.

In the absence of any external stimulation I have taken to debating with myself in the mirror. Lately, these debates have become increasingly bad tempered and have actually ended in a mass brawl on 2 separate occasions. I regret to say that the index finger on my right hand was bitten off during the last one. This can't go on.

Why have the films stopped? What has happened to the person sending them through? Is he ill? Has he got bored with it? Or did he go on holiday up to Scotland with his wife and baby for a couple of weeks and has only just returned? I don't suppose I shall ever know...

But hallo! What is this? A sound and a glimmer of light from the TV! Dare I hope?

TARANTULA (1955)

Tarantula is on my second list of favourite films. This second list is the REAL list - namely, the films that I would actually watch If I found myself on Death Row (again) and had one day left to live, and a DVD player. And the DVDs in question. Other films on this list include Escape To Victory, Kelly's Heroes and The Three Amigos.

The first list of my favourite films is my 'dinner party' list i.e. the films that I say are my favourites to try and impress in company, but have never actually watched. This list includes Citizen Kane, Battleship Potemkin and There Will Be Blood.

Obviously the first list is pretty much redundant in my present situation. But maybe one day this ordeal will all be over... maybe the force-field will open and I'll be allowed back into society... and maybe my next dinner party won't end up in a blood-bath where all the guests are slaughtered with fondue forks, and the host of the dinner party mysteriously missing. As a matter of interest, the long-forgotten proto-slasher flick "Blood-bath at the Dinner Party of Death (U.S. title 'The Fondue Massacre!') was based on this incident at my, sorry, that dinner party.

All of which leads rather neatly onto 'Tarantula', one of my favourite 50s Monster Movies. 'Tarantula' has absolutely everything a self-respecting 50's Creature Feature should have. Nowadays, we call these things cliches, but back in the 50s before cliches were invented, these were just things that happened in Monster Movies. I'm talking about:

1) A scientist playing 'God' by making animals bigger than they should be.
2) The beautiful female assistant with a bloke's name.
3) A beautiful but deadly desert landscape.
4) Some hobos being the first to get killed.
5) A wise-cracking hero who isn't a police or army officer but seems to be able to over-ride them and make decisions that everyone obeys.

and

6) A huge tarantula.

'Tarantula' has all these. Plus, it's directed by Jack Arnold, legend of 50s Sci-fi. Plus+, it has the finest actors possible in the lead roles. I'm talking about the sultry and sassy Mara Corday...

... also a welcome presence in The Giant Claw and The Black Scorpion.

And the wonderful, wonderful John Agar.

John Agar is right at the top of my second (i.e. my 'proper') list of favourite actors (this list also includes Chevy Chase). Something in him reminds me of Steve McQueen - perhaps its the way he overacts when explaining something perhaps (apologies to Steve McQueen fans that don't think he overacts). Sure, he's got the cheesiest of cheesy grins and he might not be the greatest actor in the world but I love the guy - not least because of the films he's been in; Attack of the Puppet People, Invisible Invaders, Brain from Planet Arous, Revenge of the Creature... I could go on. Only John Agar can deliver lines like "Giant freaks of any kind give me the willies!", and actually sound like the mere mention of him mentioning giant freaks is giving him a flashback of the willies. A legend, and he was a damn nice guy as well by all accounts.

And so to the remote Arizona desert town where John Agar - a local doctor - has been called in to investigate the mysterious death of a young man who just happened to work out at Professor Deemer's research laboratory. By lucky chance, just before driving out there he has a chance to give a lift to Professor Deemer's new assistant, Stefanie 'Steve' Clayton (Mara Corday). It's not long until they hook up to investigate the strange goings on that are... going on.

Which leads to Steve being startled by Professor Deemer one night, when he creeps up behind her in the lab and gives her a ticking off about showing unqualified people (John Agar of course) around the lab. Not an unreasonable request really. To which Steve replies by screaming "Oh my God, your FACE!" and runs off. This really is a great response to being told off by your boss. If you don't believe me, try it next time you get called into an office to discuss your attendance. It works every time!

But look! While we were distracted, a giant tarantula has escaped from the lab and is now wreaking havoc around the local desert, creeping around menacingly in the distance before we see great POV shots of it's fangs bearing down on hapless hobos. Hobos in the desert always get it in 50s sci-fi movies I'm afraid. In fact, only soldiers guarding downed UFOs fare worse.

This type of behaviour really can't be allowed to continue, and so its not long until John Agar puts his hippocratical oath to one side momentarily and calls in an air-strike. Remember that this was the 50's, long before conservation and environmental issues were in vogue - and long before the Vietnam War had given napalm and assorted defoliants a bad press...

... so the ending that we get to cheer and applaud is Clint Eastwood napalming the tarantula to death!

That'll teach it! Barbecued spider anyone?

Here's the trailer for your viewing pleasure:

BLACK SABBATH (1963)

2009-04-09T13:33:00.012+01:00

Day #3

Another night in the igloo, another nightmare. Or was it real?

Asleep, or awake, I found myself lying on my bed trying to focus on a shadowy mass at the other end of my dwelling...

What is this that stands before me? Figure in black which points at me!
Turn around quick, and start to run, find out I'm the chosen one - oh no!

Big black shape with eyes of fire, telling people their desire, Satan's sitting there, he's smiling - watches those flames get higher and higher!

Oh no, no, please God help me! Is it the end, my friend? Satan's coming 'round the bend - people running 'cause they're scared - the people better go and beware! No, no, please, no!

Then I woke up for real - it was just a dream. Thought so.

BLACK SABBATH (1963)

I’m sorry, but Italian horror has never really done it for me. If I was spoiling for a fight (and I usually am) I’d say that Italian horror consists solely of big shiny knives, garish colours and ‘sexy’ women who actually aren’t sexy at all and look like drag queens.

That said I was more than willing to give Black Sabbath a chance. But I’m sorry to say that I still came away from it feeling distinctly underwhelmed.

Black Sabbath, a film by the legendary Mario Bava, is an anthology of 3 short horrors:

The Telephone – A ‘sexy’ woman who actually isn’t very sexy at all is harassed by an obscene caller. Big shiny knives are involved. The twist is pretty lame. Next please.

The Wurdalak – This is a lot more like it, thanks in no small part to a sinister as hell Boris Karloff who plays Gorca, a man turned into a vampire type creature, cursed to attack those he loves the most. The scene with the undead child outside the house pleading for his mama is pretty chilling. And it looks great, with lots of garish colours. However, the heroine is played by a ‘sexy’ woman who actually isn’t sexy at all and look more like a drag queen.

The Last Drop – A bitter nurse steals a ring from a dead patient and gets her comeuppance. Very Tales of the Crypt. The dead patient is bloody hideous and is exactly the sort of thing that would have shat me right up as a kid. But I’m 72 now and made of sterner stuff…

NNNNNYYYYYAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!
Sorry about that.

One problem I have with Black Sabbath is that the 3 tales don’t really come together as a whole(certainly not in the way that a wonderful Amicus anthology would, for example). The Telephone and The Last Drop have a similar theme I suppose, as both women are terrorised by real or imagined horrors in the supposed safety of their homes, but then where is The Wurdalak – a gothic, medieval vampire tale – meant to fit in?

So as I said, I was underwhelmed by Black Sabbath. The Wurdalak was the only highlight for me with its on-form Karloff, foreboding atmosphere and some genuinely imaginative cinematography. I’m not the kind of person who ever scores films out of 10 - that method is way too simple and easy, and I’ll fight until my dying breath before a review of mine ends in such a way - but If I was to mark the 3 tales individually, I’d give them a 4, 6 and 5 respectively. 15/30 then. Which is 5/10.

Oh, and I almost forget the end – where, for some bizarre reason the camera pulls away to reveal that Karloff is actually on a fake horse, and we see all the special effects guys and scenery shifters around him. If I’d been enjoying the film this would have ruined it.

Ile Trailero:

THE CHILDREN (2008)

2009-04-07T10:00:00.012+01:00

Day#42987

That last film I watched, 'Eden Lake', affected me no end. My nights are now filled with awful nightmares of murderous kids chasing me through an endless forest.

And now my waking hours are being invaded - haunted even - by ghostly children as the wind that whistles through the igloo now sounds to my fragile mind like children's laughter. Menacing. Mocking. Malevolent. Murderous. And bloody annoying.

So I pray for something to take my mind off this macabre train of thought. I note that I haven't had an old classic horror to watch for a while. Something from the 40's or 50's would be a welcome piece of nostalgia for me to enjoy, for example.

Aha! Here comes today's film, and I think I'm in luck! Unless I'm very much mistaken I can see the faint outline of Boris Karloff appearing through the static...

THE CHILDREN (2008)

My name is The Igloo Keeper and I am a horror fan. I watch 30 or 40 new horror films a year knowing that most of them will be rubbish. I do this because 7 or 8 will be worth watching. A couple will be great.

The Children is directed by Tom Shankland, whose previous film, Waz, you might know by its alternate tiles Wdelta Z or The Killing Gene. Don’t get me started on alternate titles.

Is it any good? Yes. One of the best horrors I’ve seen in a long time in fact. Tom Shankland sure knows how to direct. The cinematography and use of sound in this film is outstanding. You feel that the camera is always placed in the correct – if sometimes unusual – position (one particularly effective aerial outdoor shot springs to mind as we follow a trail of blood). Best of all, he treats the audience with a degree of intelligence. We pass by a table with scissors on it. We pass the table again and notice the scissors are missing – if we’re paying attention that is…

All this wouldn’t count for much if The Children didn’t deliver in the horror department, and thankfully it does. I was genuinely unsettled and creeped out throughout. At one stage I literally felt my spine chill (only to discover an icicle from the igloo roof was dripping down my back).

Creepy children are a horror staple, but some might say they’re a bit of a cliché.

How can you make them scary without being a bit… silly? Well, what Tom (I’ve decided I like him so much I’m going to call him by his first name) does is use restraint. He doesn’t ask them to act spooky or evil. He pretty much gets them to act like kids. And this works because it makes things believable – wonderfully, horrifyingly believable - even when these kids are running around with sharp pointy objects and playing the most peculiar games with dead bodies.

Here’s the plot in brief – a smug couple with a couple of kids arrive at their friends’ remote country home. Their friends are another smug couple with loads of kids. One of the kids gets sick. He goes a bit weird. Slowly, the other kids follow suit. Weirdness turns into a depraved bloodlust for adult flesh! That last line is a bit of an exaggeration, but I like it so I’ll leave it in. There also appears to be some sort of sub-text about abortion and pregnancy that I couldn't quite work out.

In summary then, dear reader, The Children manages to avoid most horror cliches, and is a genuinely unsettling and scary film made with real skill and flair. This is rare. So please enjoy it.

The only bad thing about the film is the rather lame 'You bought them into this world...' tag-line on the poster and on this trailer. Tom obviously didn't have anything to do with that.

EDEN LAKE (2008)

2009-04-02T10:02:00.011+01:00

Day#67

Another blizzard, another day alone in the igloo with my thoughts. Thoughts of childhood, and of my loving mother. A saint, now no longer with us - cruelly taken one fateful day in November 1903.

Some lunatic had attacked her with an axe and hidden her under the woodpile. The same woodpile where I'd often wile away the hours, chopping firewood for the stove.

Life was never the same after mother passed. Father became distant and cold. I think he blamed me for her dying as indeed, did the police and local community. But the murder weapon was never found.

And so I became a loner and would often walk for hours, fishing sometimes at an undiscovered lake some miles within the forest. Nobody else ever came there. It was very deep in parts.

EDEN LAKE (2008)

I’ve watched Eden Lake, so now at least I know I’ll never have to watch it again. It’s not a bad film. Just… grim.

Eden Lake is yet another addition to the kids-terrorising- adults genre (Ils, Funny Games etc.) and also has a lot in common with the pre-slasher 70s Horror/Thrillers such as Deliverance and I Spit on Your Grave, to name two.

Like I said, it’s grim. But I say enough! Enough negativity! Surely there is good to be found in anyone or anything? So let me try and put a positive spin on Eden Lake. It might even have a happy ending...

Eden Lake is the charming tale of a carefree childhood. It follows a gang of great chums and their faithful dog who spend their days cycling around town and roaming through the local woods, having fun and getting into adventures.

One beautiful sunny day the lovable rogues are having fun at the local lake, playing music and kicking a football gently to one another.

But then the girl in the gang feels a pair of eyes prying on her. She thinks nothing of it at first, but then notices an odd looking man and woman further along the lake, staring at them intently. The gang's dog goes to investigate but runs back with its tail between its leg – something is amiss.

Suddenly, the man appears and starts acting aggressively. He grabs the stereo and turns the music off, then unashamedly ogles the girl’s tits. The gang are shocked and upset, and decide to leave.

But the nightmare is only just beginning. One of the gang, Brett, arrives home only to find that the man has followed him, and is lying in wait INSIDE his house! Thankfully Brett’s dad arrives home and the cowardly stalker manages to escape.

Now things take a turn for the worse. That night, as the gang are singing hymns around a camp-fire, the man and woman turn up again. The man attacks and in a fit of cruelty and madness, kills Brett’s beautiful dog!

The gang, acting in self-defence, manage to capture and subdue the man. However, they don’t count on his fiendish female accomplice who turns into some John Rambo wannabe, and picks them off one by one with whatever weapon comes to hand…

Eventually our hero Brett manages to escape her clutches, and arrives home. Sanctuary! Thank God his nightmare is over at last! But look out Brett! The woman is in the house! She has a razor! Brett’s dad is slashed in a vicious attack but survives. The woman will never harm Brett again. He goes to bed, safe and sound…

Sure, Eden Lake is intense at times but it’s still a great, heart-warming feel-good flick for all the family. Go see it!

WITCHFINDER GENERAL (1968)

2009-03-26T22:14:00.016Z

DAY#908

The embers on the fire are barely aglow. Night settles like a dark shroud o’er the endless Arctic tundra outside.

I say endless, even though I’m actually trapped in a force-field a mere matter of miles across. But I reckoned explaining all that would be a bit less poetic than just saying ‘endless’.

Anyway, it’s late. Too late for a film to come tonight, surely?

But I’m wrong. The TV crackles into life as the clock strikes midnight. The Witching hour.

WITCHFINDER GENERAL (1968)

Witchfinder General was the fourth and final film of Director Michael Reeves tragically short life and career. He died aged only 27, less than a year after filming was completed. Having made one of the best British horror films of all time...

Witchfinder General is imbued with such cynicism and world-weariness that it seems all the more amazing that such a young director could have made it. There are obvious Vietnam parallels to be made, as an innocent, pastoral way of life is despoiled by an inhuman and corrupt enemy. The opening scenes where Richard (Ian Ogilvy) the swashbuckling hero professes his love to his beautiful Hilary is heavy with foreboding...

... as something wicked this way comes...

Clippety-clop! Clippety-clop!

That was supposed to be a horse (sorry, I only had coconuts). For hark yonder! Here along this very country lane comes Matthew Hopkins, self-styled Witchfinder General (based on a very real life person) played with rare restraint by Lord Vincent of Price.

Ah, Vincent Price. That face. That voice. Where did it come from?

Oh, I've not doubt that he may have merely started cooing and gurgling like a normal child before saying "Mama!" at around 9-months of age, but I prefer to think of his mother waking up one day to find a 9-month old baby Vincent - with the head of the adult Witchfinder General - sitting at the foot of the bed and speaking in a fully formed Vincent Price voice: "Greetings, mother. As you've no doubt noticed I shall be speaking from now on. I shall breakfast shortly on your breast milk."

I guess we'll never know which of those two scenarios it was. Maybe that's for the best.

Although Michael Reeves managed to elicit one of finest ever performances from Vincent Price in Witchfinder General, he was fought almost every step of the way by the veteran actor. The behind-the-scenes battles between the two makes for great reading. On one occasion, a frustrated Price is reported have told Reeves: "I've made 87 films. What have you done?"

Reeves responded: "I've made three good ones."

Price plays the part of Hopkins in such a way that we're never entirely sure of his true motivation. Does he actually believe in what he is doing? We know he's corrupt, for sure, but is that the reason for his work or merely a by-product of it? How deep is this man's heart of darkness? How empty the pit of his humanity?

The history books are unclear whether the real Hopkins died from an illness in bed (possibly Tuberculosis) or whether he was subjected to his own swimming test by an enraged mob of villagers. Let's hope it was the latter. The guy was obviously a dick.

The fictional Hopkins meets his maker in a more clear-cut way. After an orgy of burnings, drownings and hangings, he is stopped from torturing the lovely Hilary with an axe delivered swiftly to the bollocks by the heroic Richard. A happy ending it is not though, as Richard continues to beat Hopkins to a bloody pulp, only to be stopped by a soldier who dispatches Hopkins with a mercy shot.

"You took him from me! You took him from me!" howls a crazed Richard as a traumatized Hilary screams in anguish. Downbeat is not the word.

Great trailer:

BASKET CASE (1982)

2009-03-18T09:46:00.009Z

Day #45

You know, lying on my bunk listen to the wind moan endlessly outside the igloo, I often think about who might be reading these very scribblings.

What about you, reader? Do you have the time to listen to me whine about nothing and everything all at once?

I am one of those melodramatic fools. Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it!

Sometimes, I give myself the creeps. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me.It all keeps adding up. I think I'm cracking up - am I just paranoid?

Anyway, enough of such musings. Here comes a completely unrelated and unexpected film:

BASKET CASE (1982)

As Basket Case ends, the only possible reaction is to laugh incomprehensibly, shake your head and say “What the f…?” quietly to yourself. It’s essential viewing for any sicko. Any depraved and semi-intelligent mind. Any murderous, cretinous individual. I loved it.

Sure, there’s no budget (there’s an in-joke that the roll of cash that belongs to our hero Duane was the film’s entire budget), the acting is piss-poor and some of the stop-motion special effects look like they could have been made by a 6-month old Ray Harryhausen – BUT! To compensate, we’ve got enough imagination, passion, wit and outright depravity to make it the classic that is.

Duane Bradley turns up at the Broslin Hotel, with a fabulously post-punk mop of hair and checks into room 7 for a 'few days'. I almost forgot – he’s carrying a wicker basket. What’s in the basket?

It’s the soul of Marsellus Wallace!

Only joking. It’s his Siamese twin. A hideous mutant.

And together, they’re gonna get medieval on the asses of the group of doctors that performed the operation to detach them!

Luckily, Duane’s brother is incredibly bloodthirsty and pretty nimble for a… for his height, and in no time at all, blood is flowing thick and fast and the bodies are mounting up.

Unluckily, Duane’s brother is also pretty hard to control. And the guests and managers of The Broslin Hotel aren’t too happy with his room-trashing, moon-howling and guest-murdering antics.

In between plotting his revenge, Duane finds time for a little romance as he catches the eye of the ladies. And it's great to see that the women in Basket Case are fabulously chunky. Without exception they’re all carrying some extra poundage which has the strange effect of making them woman shaped and not like skinny adolescent boys. Modern film-makers take note. Woman have curves. What I’m trying to say is:

The end comes all too soon, when Duane’s brother wanders off to find Duane’s love interest Sharon. He creeps into her room and does something fairly unspeakable to her. This puts a terrible strain on the brothers’ relationship. A strain that leaves both of them dangling from the Hotel Broslin sign… is it too late to make amends? Will brotherly love overcome adversity?

Yes and no. They fall and die.

Or. Do. They?

Trailer:

BLACULA (1972)

2009-03-12T15:25:00.008Z

Day #Whatever

Another blizzard. The whiteout contrasting completely with my dark, dark thoughts.

My depression - deep and black - takes hold swiftly and I find myself questioning my very existence.

Who was I? Who am I? Why am I The Igloo Keeper?

Do I even exist at all, or am I merely the result of someone else's imagination - a lame, half-hearted pastiche of The Crypt Keeper and the premise of MST3K?

Who knows. But hallo! I see the TV flicker on, and my hopes are raised! What I need is something to make me forget these dark thoughts and my black, black mood...

BLACULA (1972)

I think I like the idea of Blacula more than the movie itself. It’s a great concept with a truly righteous and iconic title and yet… it’s kinda clunky. Clunky but funky. Put it this way - the trailer is much more fun than the film itself.

Forgive me Blacula, but at times I became distracted by having to dodge the plot-holes and illogical behaviour of the characters as they struggled to move the plot along to the next stage. Now, plot holes and illogical behaviour don’t actually bother me a great deal. All I’m saying is that they do prevent Blacula from being a bona fide classic – and from me giving it a 5-star rating (which reminds me, I don’t actually do ratings. Forget I mentioned it).

Although Blacula’s funkiness ultimately transcends its clunkiness, I still think they coulda and shoulda have turned up the funk-o-meter a couple of clicks.

Blacula himself is great, and is portrayed as a rather noble, sympathetic creature by the renowned, classically trained actor William Marshall. Not sure about his hairy cheekbones though.

Dr. Gordon Thomas - the hero - is not so great. For my Blacula hero, I want a hard-living, hard drinking, wisecracking dude that would give Shaft a run for his money, with threads so sharp they’d make Bootsy Collins cry and a line of chat so jivetastic that he causes booties to bounce at the mere mention of his name.

But what we get instead is a slightly humourless, miserable, rude and brooding hero. You’ll remember my reservations on brooding heroes from my review of The Tattooist.

Anyway, none of this really matters because we’ve got some gorgeous chicks with awesome Afros to enjoy. I’ve always been in awe of Afros – If I wasn’t a short, fat bald honky I’d probably get one – and the ones on display througout Blacula are great. None more so than that on the drop dead gorgeous Denise Nicholas. I mean, just look:

The plot is fairly recognisable to us horror movie buffs - Blacula turns up in the modern day and just happens to bump into the spitting image of his long lost love. He wants her. He makes her want him. But the hero wants her and wants to stop him. He wants the hero to stop wanting to stop him. And she wants to stop the hero from stopping him. All this makes for a thrilling finale, aided and abetted by those wonderful trigger-happy cops from the LAPD. Who kill her. But not him. So he tries to get her to be him, erm, to be his… I’ll shut up now, I’m actually starting to annoy myself.

Dig the trailer:

DEVIL DOLL (1964)

2009-03-09T00:18:00.007Z

Day #73

Earlier today I lost all track of time staring into the shaving mirror. I was there for an age, lost in a trance. Christ, this place is boring.

Anyway, this led to me reminiscing of the last time I tried a spot of hypnotism. Namely, on the foreman of the jury at my trial, as he stood up and prepared to deliver the verdict on me.

Previously I had been swinging my solid silver pocket watch to and fro, and it had caught his eye several times.

“Not guilty! Not guilty!! Not guilty!!!” I commanded in silence as our eyes met once again.

Staring intently at me, he stood and paused, seemingly lost for words. Then, as if in a daze he falteringly said: “Guilty! On 20 counts of murder! Guilty on murder #1. Guilty on #2. Definitely guilty of #3 and #4. Oh, and of #5 certainly. As for #6, #7, #8 and #9, guilty. Guilty on #10…”

“Bollocks.” I muttered and put away my solid silver pocket watch as he droned on and on…

DEVIL DOLL (1964)

Ventriloquist dummies are a fine subject for a horror movie. They’re scary. Scary as hell. But there’s something much scarier, my friend! Look again. Look at the bigger picture – look at who is pulling the strings…

Okay, so ventriloquist dummies don’t have strings – but what I'm trying to say (without being too graphic) is look carefully at the one with his hand up the dummy’s arse - the ventriloquist! For a man who has devoted his life to making a wooden dummy look like it’s talking is far more scarier than a wooden dummy. No matter how freakily the eyebrows have been fashioned.

Or as Charlton Heston would say, Dummies don’t kill people. Ventriloquists do.

Devil Doll – a very classy, noirish looking British horror from the 60’s - illustrates my point beautifully. Hugo (great name for a dummy) is a spooky little fecker but he’s not evil, far from it. He’s merely an innocent soul trapped in a dummy’s body by the real baddy – The Great Vorelli!

The Great Vorelli is a wonderful baddy, with a voice uncannily like Sideshow Bob. Bryant Haliday is the fine actor playing the part, and I was quite surprised to read that he didn’t really act a great deal after this, as he gives a very enjoyable and accomplished performance.

William Sylvester plays the good guy, an American called Mark English (a name that Alanis Morrissette would no doubt call ironic). The fact that he's American does at least allow other characters to deliver lines like, “I’ll certainly try and keep – as you Americans would say - an open mind.”

And let’s not forget Yvonne Romain as the gorgeous love interest with wonderful 60s eyes that they don’t make anymore.

Vorelli – being a complete dickhead – puts lovely Yvonne into a trance as part of his diabolical scheme to marry her, steal her cash and then transfer her soul into a female dummy.

And he would have got away with it too, until Hugo leaps into action (okay, maybe not leaps. This is a wooden dummy we’re talking about here) and battles Vorelli in a wonderful climactic fight scene which rather coolly ends in a freeze-frame that turns into a negative. Far out!

There's a final twist that wraps things up rather neatly, and if you don’t jump up and shout “Hurrah!” then you must have a wooden heart. And - it follows - a psychopath’s hand up yer bum.

THE SWARM (1978)

2009-03-04T14:32:00.006Z

Day #180

Today I made a new friend. A beautiful bumble-bee landed on my igloo window ledge!

The poor little mite was shivering with cold as I picked it up and bought it over to the glow of the fire for warmth. Tenderly, I wrapped it in a tiny blanket and gave it several drops of medicinal brandy with an eye-dropper.

“I shall call you Basil.” I declared, “We shall go on such adventures together you and I Basil! Why, with you at my side I shall…”

Suddenly Basil leapt up and stung me slap bang in the middle of the gangrenous wound where my nose used to be.

“NNNYYYAAARRRGGGHHH!!!!!” I continued, as I beat Basil to death with a nearby frying pan.

“Shame on me!” I wailed, “I’ve killed my only friend!”

That’s the fourth best friend I’ve killed in less than 5 years, come to think of it. Is this one of the reasons why I’m still igloo-bound?

THE SWARM (1979)

Brad Crane: “We've been fighting a losing battle against the insects for fifteen years, but I never thought I'd see the final face-off in my lifetime. And I never dreamt that it would turn out to be the bees…” (petulantly) “They've always been our friend!”

The Swarm raises an interesting question – for a film to be considered truly bad, does it need to have big stars and a huge budget?

If the answer is 'yes', then The Swarm delivers, with Michael Caine in the lead role (as Dr. Crane), supported by the likes of Henry Fonda, Richard Chamberlain and Richard Wydmark. Not to mention Olivia De Havilland. And the one that wasn't Mrs Robinson from The Graduate.

General Slater: “Houston on fire. Will history blame me, or the bees?”

I have a theory. Namely, that the problem with The Swarm is that it tries to be a disaster movie rather than a monster movie. If it had taken it’s cue from 'Tarantula' rather than 'Towering Inferno', things woulda, coulda and shoulda been a whole lot better:

John Agar wouldn’t take 156 minutes of The Swarm’s ridiculously elongated running time to save the world. He’d grin, wisecrack, smoke endless cigarettes and beat the monster to a pulp without breaking into a sweat in barely over an hour. And he’d still make some time to get the girl.

Roll on 20 years and we’ve got a strange Michael Caine performance where he alternates between speaking ever so slowly and quietly – like he’s on valium – and shouting hysterically and jabbing his finger whenever he speaks to General Slater (Richard Wydmark).

Major Baker: “Can we really count on a scientist who prays?”
General Slater: “I wouldn't count on one who doesn't.”

Caine just mooches around without a plan as the death toll rises to an impressively ridiculous level. And he muses a lot. He mooches and muses. "Tut! Who could have guessed that the first alien invasion of America would be by bees?" he mutters without a care in the world as news of 30,000 fatalities – caused solely by his lack of coming up with an Agar-esque plan - comes over the radio.

Brad Crane: “Bees! Thousands of ‘em!”

Eventually – after lots of mooching, musing and a few pointless sub-plots (like an octogenarian love triangle that goes off the rails in spectacular fashion) Caine/Crane stumbles upon a winning plan and saves the day. At least… for the time being… will The Swarm ever be back?

Actually, yes they will if new of a remake comes to pass. Let’s hope the dialogue remains intact. And that Clint Eastwood napalms The Swarm’s sorry ass in the closing shot.

END CREDITS: THE AFRICAN KILLER BEE PORTRAYED IN THIS FILM BEARS ABSOLUTELY NO RELATIONSHIP TO THE INDUSTRIOUS, HARD-WORKING AMERICAN
HONEY BEE TO WHICH WE ARE INDEBTED FOR POLLINATING VITAL CROPS THAT FEED OUR NATION.

THE TATTOOIST (2007)

2009-03-02T00:24:00.007Z

Day #84

A strange dream last night.

I was looking at myself through some sort of screen. Some sort of monitor. Then I noticed other screens...

Hundreds of other screens looking at different igloos. Different people.

I saw a clown watching a comedy film...

A young couple watching a romantic comedy...

Then it all went black and I heard a voice saying, "Shut down sector 7, psycho-kinetic breach! He's got panoramic vision!"

But anyway, that's not the dream I meant. I had this one right afterwards where I turned up for my first day at a new job, looked down and I was just in my underwear! How embarassing - what can it all mean??

THE TATTOOIST (2007)

Watching The Tattooist was about as pleasurable as getting red hot needles stuck under my skin for an hour and a half. If this is what the director intended – some sort of hard hitting allegory to the tattooing process itself - then he’s very clever. If that wasn't his intention, then he’s just made a really shit film.

My suspicions were aroused when I first laid eyes on the unsmiling, brooding hero played by someone called Jason Behr.

An unsmiling, brooding hero invariably means one of two things:
1)That the hero is deeply in turmoil and has faced hardship and tragedy in his life that has forced him to focus on things other than his personal happiness and well-being.
or
2)The guy playing the hero can’t act. And has gone for the brooding look to save him having to show any emotion.

Guess which one my money’s on? Oh, and he's also wearing eye-liner. The last horror film I saw where the hero appeared to be wearing eye-liner for no apparent reason was John Cusack in '1408'. And the less said about that the better.

The director has given this film a sickly glossy sheen that is horribly reminiscint of one of those ‘classic’ Whitesnake videos of a bygone age... or perhaps even an episode of the wonderful but-now-strangely-dated erotic TV series that was Red Shoe Diaries - in fact, a David Duchovny voice-over telling us how he couldn't wait to get his leg over the mysterious Maori girl would not have felt out of place.

What I thought sounded like a promising, original premise turned out be nothing more than the old 'guy steals something/gets involved with a girl from an ancient tribe/bad things happen to him' routine. It’s a classic horror formula that can usually be done and dusted within the confines of a half hour 'Outer Limits' episode. Or 'Buffy', who used to do stuff like this for fun - usually to Xander Harris's misfortune (his penis got diseases from a Schumach tribe).

From the opening salvo of: “He needs a doctor”, “No, he needs a tattoo”, The Tattooist's stilted dialogue is delivered by an array of mediocre actors. Thank God then, that the monotony is finally broken by a laugh-out-loud moment where a chubby psychic kid communicates with the spirits by going into a trance.

How does he go into this trance? Dancing round a camp-fire? Drinking peyote?

No. He sits in the back of a speeding sports car and asks for his favourite Hip Hop track to be played as loud as possible. I haven’t checked yet, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t a standard ancient Maori ritual.

The Tattooist isn't all bad though – actually it is – but I did quite like the look of the black inky demon at the end. However, that might just have been because I was still feeling generous after crying with laughter at the chubby psychic hip-hop kid.

Here's a trailer that makes The Tattooist look better than it is:

TWINS OF EVIL (1971)

2009-02-25T15:30:00.007Z

Day #232

Upon returning to my igloo after a fishing expedition I notice a small object lying outside the igloo. It looks familiar...

Ye gods! It's a lump of flesh!

Ye gods again! It's a nose! A human nose!

Gingerly, I quickly pick it up and throw it as far away as I can. Thankfully it disappears for good down a nearby crevasse(I must get that fixed).

I enter the igloo and look around carefully. Nothing else has been moved. Yet someone is toying with me surely? Someone is following me, leaving me macabre clues... a human nose!? What twisted mind could conceive of such sport?

The mystery becomes clearer when I look in the mirror and notice that my severely frostbitten nose is no longer there. It must have fallen off. Outside somewhere.

"Bollocks." I mutter.

TWINS OF EVIL (1971)

Twins of Evil is a fabulously bloody & bawdy Hammer romp that rather bravely shies away from a simple tale of ‘good versus evil’ and instead manages to create complex characters that perhaps contain shades of both.

Made in 1971, only a year or so after nudity was invented, it’s the third and final instalment of the fairly loose Karnstein trilogy (after The Vampire Lovers and Lust for the Vampire, both from 1970), and it’s simply a fabulous Hammer offering in its own right.

The Twins, Frieda and Maria, are played by Playboy Playmate twins Madeleine and Mary Collinson (who thank god are over the age of consent).

We first see them as they come to stay with their Aunt Katy & Uncle Gustav. It soon becomes clear that rather being Twins of Evil, we have a good twin and a naughty twin. Which would obviously have been a much weaker title, so Twins of Evil it is.

Peter Cushing is in top form as Uncle Gustav - a ruthless Witchfinder General type who leads his religious followers ‘The Brotherhood’ on regular witch-hunts that invariably end with a nubile, innocent, young wench being burned at the stake. We’re also treated to a formidable looking vampire with great hair in Count Karnstein (Damien Thomas).

The clever plot moves along at a rip-roaring pace as blood-drained bodies start to turn up all over the countryside and The Brotherhood roam around unchecked, burning any innocent maiden that takes their fancy, yet rather shamefully being reluctant to visit Castle Karnstein, the real source of evil!

In the meantime, naughty twin Frieda catches the eye of both Count Karnstein AND the resident hero Anton. Where will all this lead to? Will the fact that they’re identical twins lead to any confusion and mistaken identity? You wouldn’t bet it against it would you?

There’s just time for some sexy topless vampire shenanigans before we get to the tremendously bloody final battle at Catle Karnstein.

And I mean bloody. Count Karnstein and his huge henchman aren't in the mood to go quietly, and swords are brandished and axes thrown with a devil-may-care recklessness that just wouldn't be allowed in todays more Health & Safety conscious age. Gallons of bright red Hammer blood is spilled and we get some shockingly graphic deaths - one in particular that comes as a bit of a surprise.

So - one of the best Hammer finales ever, surely? And a fitting end to the Karnstein legacy...

IT'S ALIVE (1974)

2009-02-22T16:56:00.009Z

Day #5

Lately I've been falling into the most morbid of stupors. Unwilling to rise in the morning. Appetite gone. The black dog of depression growling softly somewhere in the back of my mind...

My mood is not lightened when I take a medicinal brandy and discover too late it was the bottle of urine I'd been saving for a rainy day. This unfortunate incident has made me resolve to do 2 important things in future:

a) Stop saving my urine in brandy bottles.

and

b) Stop saving my urine for a rainy day.

Anyway, enough talk of urine. Perhaps a film will lighten my mood. A jaunty musical perhaps? Or even a rom-com I daresay? Aha! Here comes one now:

IT'S ALIVE (1974)

This film genuinely surprised me. The ending in particular hit me with a sucker-punch to the gut. But let's rewind to the start...

I was ready to laugh heartily all the way through It's Alive's outrageous and frankly ridiculous premise (killer mutant new-born baby makes a run for it and terrorises the city), and when the poor Carnation milkman meets his end in one of the funniest scenes I've seen in a long-time, I was even more convinced that I was going to get a camp so-bad-its-good gorefest...

But I didn't. Instead, It's Alive stays rather low-key. Certainly as low-key as you can expect from a film about a killer mutant new-born baby. So, rather than scenes of a nappy-clap monstrosity terrorising neighbourhoods, we get a fairly realistic portrayal of a family that has had their world torn apart. Their 'monsters' are so-called nurses with hidden tape-recorders and representatives from drug companies with shady ulterior motives.

Of course, their other monster is a killer mutant new-born baby on the loose. And a fine looking little fella he is - one of legendary monster-maker Rick Baker's earliest works. The scary little oddball (I mean the baby, not Rick Baker) is kept in the shadows and we only get fleeting glimpses of him now and then. A nice touch.

The finale when the father confronts his wounded offspring is genuinely moving and I don't mind admitting I had a lump in my throat. It was rather beautifully acted by the late John P. Ryan, although through most of the film I had difficulty picking up what he was saying. It sounds to my untrained Scottish ears like he had a fairly thick Noo Yoik accent - and kinda mumbled as well. Towards the film I suddenly realised who his voice reminded me off - Oddball from Kelly's Heroes!

Watch it for yourself and tell me it ain't so.

So all in all, another triumph for Larry Cohen. He certainly knows how to pack some thought-provoking issues into his films. In this instance, it's 'what the hell kind of drugs are we being fed by the major co-orporations'? And this is way back in 1974 remember, so pretty prescient stuff.

The final pay-off of It's Alive sets up a sequel beautifully. And I wouldn't be surprised if whoever is controlling the Igloo's TV reception sends me one to review very shortly. Call it a hunch.

In the meantime. Here's the trailer:

THE SAGA OF THE VIKING WOMEN AND THEIR VOYAGE TO THE WATERS OF THE GREAT SEA SERPENT (1957)

2009-02-20T09:35:00.011Z

Day #395

Music? Outside my igloo? What the...

I stumble sleepily outside and an explosion of glitter and applause greets me. A beautiful yet unwisely dressed (it's -38c) young lady drapes a sash over my shoulder as a feral looking spiv hands me a cheque for $1,000,000 saying: "Congratulations! You've lasted a record 395 days in the Igloo!"

So it was all some sort of reality TV show then? Phew, what a relief! I don't admitting that I was almost...

Day #395

Music? Outside my igloo?

No. Merely the wind whistling through a crack in the igloo above my head. Twas all but a dream...

Except - where did all the glitter outside my tent come from??!

THE SAGA OF THE VIKING WOMEN AND THEIR VOYAGE TO MEET THE GREAT SEA SERPENT (1957)

You’ve got to hand it to Roger Corman, he never let a lack of money get in the way of making a grandiose epic.

The Saga of the Viking Women and Their Voyage to the Waters of the Great Serpent tells of, well, a tale suggested very much by the title. Because of its short running time (barely over an hour) I’ve heard some wag ask if that was the title or the script… harsh, very harsh.

Harsh but fair, because even with this short running time (very short for a historical epic) we still get a fair bit of padding where the Viking Women are walking around what looks suspiciously like the Californian countryside.

This isn’t a good film. It’s a bad one. But very watchable. The Viking Women are gorgeous. The special effects (the viking boat, the sea monster) are laughable. The script is lamentable. The acting shoddy. The costumes are ridiculous…

But even so, it’s a lot of good, clean, wholesome fun. More fun than Eyes Wide Shut, certainly.

There is one goof listed on IMDB which I think sums this loveable little epic perfectly:

Continuity: When the Viking women are running along the beach, one of them is wearing sunglasses.

DRACULA: PRINCE OF DARKNESS (1966)

2009-02-16T14:03:00.010Z

Day #210

Near disaster today! Whilst struggling to pull a fish from my favourite ice-hole, I stumble and accidentally discharge my hunting rifle. The shot cracks the ice and I plunge into the murky abyss!

My life flashes before my eyes... the murders, the sadism, the treachery... ah, good times...

Then I see a bright light and feel myself being pulled towards it... pulled... towards the light, or out of the hole? Because the next thing I remember I am on the ice, struggling for breath... are there voices?

I recall a shadowy figure kneeling beside me and whispering: "If you're frightened of dying, and you're holding on, you'll see devils tearing your life away. If you've made your peace, then the devils are really angels, freeing you from the Earth."

Then I feel a blow to my head. I wake up hours later in the Igloo, wrapped warmly in a blanket I've never seen before...

My God, what a day! I could - and possible should - have died under that ice! I can't bear to think of it. I need a stiff brandy, and to watch something that will take my mind off the whole unfortunate episode...

DRACULA: PRINCE OF DARKNESS (1966)

Alan Kent is one of four unsuspecting tourists who find themselves in a seemingly deserted Castle Dracula. His wife Helen has a strong sense of foreboding but her protestations are given short thrift: “You’ll forget about all this in the morning, you’ll see,” Alan assures her. She simply replies: “There’ll be no morning for us.”

This line chilled my spine when I first saw this movie as an 8-year old. Barbara Shelley’s fatalistic delivery of it is impeccable – she states it not as a prediction, but as a certainty. And she is now resigned to her fate, having tried and failed to warn anyone else of the danger. It’s one of the finest lines in horror movie history in my opinion. Only "Death by stereo" comes anywhere close.

The Hammer Draculas were the young Igloo Keeper’s first horror love, and they remain firm favourites . Having said that, I can’t help but think that it's a flawed series, and although I’d rather watch 'Dracula: Prince of Darkness' more than almost any other film, it could have been so much better:

For example, where’s Peter Cushing? No sign of him here. Any Dracula film without Cushing v Lee, Van Helsing v Dracula is missing something very special indeed. Mind you, even when the two do appear together, it always seems that their screen-time together is too brief. I want to see them verbally spar with one another. I want to see them sit down for a meal together, being outwardly polite, but promising to end one another's time on this Earth if it's the last thing they do, by thunder!. That sort of thing. But for some reason it never happened, perhaps because of my next point...

Another huge flaw throughout the series is Dracula’s dialogue. Or lack of it. For some reason, he’s struck dumb in 'Dracula: Prince of Darkness'. In the other films he fares not much better, usually being restricted to a couple of lines near the end of the film which generally follows this sequence:

a) Dracula quickly boasts about how omnipotent, wonderful and unstoppable he is.
b) He then throws something at Van Helsing that misses by a mile.
c) And dies either stupidly (by falling into a shallow pit of stakes: ‘Dracula 1972 A.D’), or unluckily (being hit by lightning: ‘Scars of Dracula).

I’ve heard that Lee himself felt exactly the same way about his piss-poor dialogue and tried unsuccessfully to get the film-makers to use some suitably portentous lines from the original Stoker novel. But 'twas not to be.

Back in Dracula’s castle the count is resurrected by the blood of a hapless Alan Kent, in another wonderful scene where the evil henchman Clove hoists him above a coffin and slits his wrists. The casual, workmanlike way that he does this still packs a punch (it chills my spine in fact, but I already used that phrase in the first paragraph). Blood flows and Dracula is back!

Barbara Shelley is his first victim. Now, I’m fully aware that vampirism has laid scourge to many a Carpathian countryside, and becoming a vampire is not generally a good thing but wow – Barbara Shelley looks good on it! She transform from a frumpy old misery into a hot, Hot, HOT Uber-sexy MILF vampire. She could tap at my window any time. If my igloo had windows…

Thankfully the remainder of the group, Charles and Diana Kent, manage to escape and enlist the help of a no-nonsense rifle-toting priest, Father Quatermass.

This time, Dracula finds himself treading on thin ice – literally. His death is probably a 50/50 split between bad luck and stupidity, as the priests shoots holes in some ice that Dracula has somehow found himself on. A few skillful shots later, Dracula topples into a watery grave.

Ha! Let’s see him get out of that one! What monster has ever managed to escape from being preserved in ice before? (see ‘Dracula has Risen from the Grave for further details…)

THE RUINS (2008)

2009-02-11T10:06:00.010Z

Day #86
Alarm! The time flickers 04:12 on my trusty digital clock as I hear a noise outside the igloo! My government issue APHSD (Anti-personnel Private Home Security Device) has been triggered!!

I rush outside and sure enough, someone has walked through my piece of string with cans attached.

Then an unwelcome sight – the dog enclosure has been broken into! The dogs are gone, along with my sledge!!

So I really am trapped then. My only means of transport gone. Stolen. But by who? Or what??

Then I remember. I didn’t have any dogs or a sledge.

Or a dog enclosure.

Relieved, I go back inside the igloo, making a mental note to list my provisions, as the TV comes slowly alive and the credits roll (and I remember I don’t have a digital clock either)…

THE RUINS (2008)

There aren’t enough films with scary man-eating plants these days for my liking. Just think how much better Eyes Wide Shut, Mona Lisa Smile or even, I daresay, this year’s Oscar nominated The Reader would have been with the inclusion of a carnivorous hedgerow or two.

So I’ve got an awful lot of goodwill for The Ruins, a film about - scary man-eating plants.

It uses Modern Horror Film Template #1 to start - a group of scantily clad teens go exploring. They meet some unfriendly locals.

Where The Ruins score points for originality is that we’re a-way down in Mexico way.

And the unfriendly locals have surrounded the teens on the roof of a Mayan temple. But why don’t they attack??

Our teens are trapped on the temple roof. What will they do? What plans will they put in place to get rescued?

Or to put it another way, how long would you be able to sit on a roof without breaking your back, smashing your leg and getting stabbed?

I’m not saying our teens are particularly accident prone, but within the space of 5 minutes one of the guys has taken a header down the only, very clearly marked, hole on the roof and broken his back. And there’s soon a girl hobbling around with a huge gash (don’t be crude) in her thigh. It would seem that not only do our teens have to worry about being trapped by hostile locals, they also have to worry about being a bit stupid.

And then the plants start getting frisky. The injured members of the party awake to find their wounds have attracted the local vegetation. Cue much horrible and bloody cutting and pulling of vines from veins.

We’re then treated to a double amputation with a pen-knife. Lovely. Actually, it’s quite funny. Something inside me will always find a bloke with a dodgy German accent pleading for his legs to be cut off deeply hilarious.

I’ve just remembered I was going to try and be nice to The Ruins. So I'm quite happy to admit that yes, I did quite enjoy it. The young cast did a great job, with some impressive acting throughout, and the special effects team certainly know how to shake a plant or two.

I was, however, kinda surprised to discover the source material is a highly praised novel (Scott B. Smith), because the film’s attempt at a back story and character motivation and development seemed distinctly half-arsed. Why didn’t we find out more about the first party of guys whose empty tents were found? Why didn’t we find out a little bit more about the locals? I could understand an answer of ‘we needed to cut to the chase and get the plot moving’, but at the end of the day the plot involved little more than teens standing on top of a Mayan temple having endless unintentionally amusing accidents.

Despite this the fact remains – The Ruins has man-eating plants and is therefore worth watching. Go see it. You never know (awful pun alert), it might grow on you!

THE STUFF (1985)

2009-02-09T14:00:00.008Z

Day #313

Another blizzard.

The same blizzard.

Snow, driving snow, nothing but snow - relentless white, white, white stuff seeping into my very consciousness and driving me insane! Hellish white, White WHITE torment!

I need something to take my mind of this never ending horror...

THE STUFF (1985)

Soylent Green meets The Blob in this wonderful horror film directed by the great Larry Cohen (Q: The Winged Serpent etc.).

Or, imagine if Ed Wood Jnr. had tried to turn a John Grisham novel into a film… then you’d have The Stuff!

But what is The Stuff? It’s the new dessert sensation sweeping the world. It looks harmless enough, tastes great – but is it all just a little too good to be true?

Michael Moriarty (a Cohen favourite and rightly so) plays Mo - a good ol’ Southern boy Industrial Spy who isn’t as dumb as he makes out. He’s hired by The Stuff's competition to discover the secret of The Stuff, and so teams up with the beautiful Nicole who works for the Stuff's advertising campaign (and what a great campaign it is, with a song so catchy and addictive you won’t be able to get enough of it. Very apt), and a young kid Jason, who is the only one (for some reason) that has twigged the secret of The Stuff and has escaped (by pretending to eat shaving foam - don’t ask) from his Stuff-crazed family, including a spookily-eyebrowed brother who is a dead ringer for a vamped up Danny Glick. More than enough reason to run from any home.

Oh, and there’s also Chocolate Chip Charlie as Himself.

Our small team of good guys go investigating, and have a few close calls with The Stuff before eventually teaming up with Pauly from Goodfellas, who plays Colonel Malcolm Grommett Spears, leader of the free resistance – and a bit of a nutter - down in Atlanta.

A thrilling final showdown sees Mo, Pauly and co. do battle with The Stuff and various nameless Stuff henchmen. Spoiler ahead – they win! The world (the U.S.) is free!

The Stuff (the film, not The Stuff itself) is wonderful. A biting satire on the nature of rampant consumerism if you’re being generous, a completely ridiculous b-movie if you’re not. Either way it’s absolutely essential viewing. But be warned! One sitting may not be enough!!! < Cue The Stuff advertising song. Repeat to fade>

PERFECT CREATURE (2006)

2009-02-06T10:15:00.006Z

Day #159

Some of you have been asking questions about my existence here in Igloo Land. Sorry I can't answer them all personally but here are a few answers to the most popular questions:

1) Fish. I fish every day. That's all the food there is. Sometimes I have ice for dessert.
2) Water. Luckily there's a fresh water spring about 2 miles away. Inside the force-field, thankfully.
3) Yes, of course it's bloody cold.
4) I only have one battered old TV. No, I have no control over it. It comes on of its own accord and shows... hang on, here it comes now!

PERFECT CREATURE (2006)

If Underworld had been directed by Ken Loach – with no budget - it would have looked pretty much like Perfect Creature. This brave new world is a little bit grey and grimy, and our heroes are miserable, downtrodden bunch at the bottom of the social heap.

Saffron Burrows plays a hard-bitten cop. Here’s a transcript from the Initial casting meeting:

“We need a hard-bitten cop. Who immediately springs to mind?”,
“Harvey Kietel?”
“No”
“Bob Hoskins?”
“No”,
“Got it! Saffron Burrows”

To be fair to her she’s fine. She’s certainly a lot better than Dougray Scott. No offence to Saffron Burrows but when you’re out-acted by Saffron Burrows you know you’re in trouble. Dougray Scott looks as if he's sleepwalking through the entire film. Here’s a glimpse of him emoting anger:

At one point (47 mins 50 secs) I swear to God he does actually fall asleep, and has to be nudged awake by someone off camera.

The premise of Perfect Creature is actually pretty original and interesting. Vampires and humans co-exist quite happily. In fact, vampires are worshipped as near gods, with churches dedicated to them.

It all kicks off when an influenza epidemic sweep the human population, and – obvious spoiler coming up - one of the vampires goes 'rogue' and starts preying on humans.

Good vampire Silus (Dougray) is sent by the church to catch bad vampire Edgar, his brother (wouldn't you have guessed)who looks like a young Bon Jovi.Edgar teams up with the hard-bitten cop that is Saffron Burrows, and they run about a lot. At least, Burrows runs about and Dougray Scott walks and talks slowly about. Every couple of minutes he twists his neck at 45 degrees and looks upwards. This is to signify his supernatural hearing. It’s the only thing he does.

Despite a promising premise, Perfect Creature doesn’t quite hit the mark. The plot fails to deal with a number of interesting issues raised and kind of collapses under the strain half-way through, leaving us with a standard chase/fight/chase/fight movie. Bit of a shame really. At the end it’s set up for a sequel. I’d watch the sequel quite happily, but will there be one? Will anyone find the budget for a sequel? And so I found myself saying, “Ah, bless, hope it works out for them” in an incredibly patronising way. Probably not the reaction that the film-makers were hoping for.

DR JEKYLL AND SISTER HYDE (1971)

2009-02-01T21:59:00.010Z

Day #343

Sartre once said "Hell is other people" but obviously the beady-eyed existentialist twat had never spent 343 - or whatever it's been - days in a bloody freezing cold igloo. In an arctic wasteland. In a force-field.

I yearn for some company with all my soul. Someone real. Someone human. For all I have is the ghosts who haunt my dreams. The ghosts of those I have slain. Of those I have hurt. Of those who I've wronged. And of those who I wanted to wrong but didn't get round to wronging.

In the name of God, how long will this cursed solitude last???

DR JEKYLL AND SISTER HYDE (1971)

With a title – and a premise – straight out of a Two Ronnies Christmas Special ( Ronnie Corbett would play Dr Jekyll. Ronny Barker would be the hapless detective. Sister Hyde would be… Kate O’ Meara probably)

thank God we’ve got the wonderful Ralph Bates to make this shit sound plausible. In my opinion he’s on a par with Peter Cushing at being utterly, utterly convincing even when spouting the most ludicrous gobbledegook and bamboozling mumbo-jumbo.

Wonderful wonderful actor, Ralph Bates. What a striking looking chap – black, black, hair. Black, black eyes. Black, black… clothes as well usually. And features so sharp they’d cut your throat. Although he appeared in a mere handful of Hammer Horrors he shone and oozed class in every one - his Baron Frankenstein is a wonderful sociopath, and he died far too soon in ‘Taste the Blood of Dracula’ for my liking.

He died far too soon for my liking in real life as well, succumbing to cancer in 1981, at only 51 years of age. Robbing us of many wonderful performances…

Dr Jekyll and sister Hyde then. Ronnie Corbett, sorry, Ralph Bates plays Dr Jekyll, a gaunt young chap who spends way too much time in his laboratory doing all sorts of weird and wonderful experiments - searching for the elixir of life, no less.

So intent is he on his research that he fails to notice he has won the heart of the attractive young lady who lives upstairs for him. Actually, she’s fairly annoying so maybe he just doesn’t give a toss.

Back to his lab we go, and exciting news! He’s done it – he’s found the secret of everlasting life! Only one slight catch, something hardly worth bothering about surely, not even worth mentioning imho… his elixir turns him into a woman - Sister Hyde, played by the wonderfully cast Martine Beswick. And what a great looking woman she is - and she also looks kind of like Ralph Bates, which can’t have been an easy thing to pull off. So fair play her to then. And because it’s the 70’s, we also get to see her fondle her breasts a bit. Fair play to her again. Apparently the drop dead gorgeous Caroline Munro turned down the part because of this brief nude scene. So the opposite of fair play to her then.

Dr Jekyll is now in turmoil (as was I when I almost got caught dressed as woman in the East End of London. But that’s another story) and he finds himself spiralling downwards ever downwards into an abyss of corpse-snatching, mutilations, murders and mistakenly ordering ladies undergarments. Again, behaviour which I must profess to being all too familiar with.

When his bodysnatching accomplices Burke and Hare get lynched, Dr Jekyll resorts to finding his own victims - the prostitutes of London’s old east End. This being the late Victorian era, it’s soon becomes clear that Dr Jekyll is in fact, doing the deeds that we know ascribe to Jack the Ripper.

Whoah! I hear you say. Jack the Ripper? Burke and Hare? Surely they were years apart? Surely Burke and Hare were actually from Edinburgh now that you come to think of it? Well yes, I must confess you’re spot on. In fact this peculiar discrepancy in time and place is listed as a ‘goof’ in IMDB. But I say piff and poppycock to this - a goof? Come on, it’s a work of genius! Jack the Ripper and Burke and Hare appearing together in a Hammer Horror is just as it should be. This is Hammer world remember folks, not the real world. And the two are very different places. For example when was the last time you walked through a forest at night and the sun was shining?

And because it’s Hammer world we’re in, it’s not too long until an angry mob appears from nowhere intent on dishing out some vigilante justice to the devilish Dr J and/or Sister H. He/she escapes, but instead of hailing a Hansom cab and making a swift exit, he (I’ve decide he’s a he) decides to climb up onto a very high and very unsafe roof.

The end is now on sight. Dr Jekyll only has time to quickly turn into Sister Hyde before falling to his death. The moral of the story as the credits roll is obvious.
DON’T. PLAY. GOD. Christ, how many times do you have to spell it out to these people??

Here's the trailer:

THE HAMILTONS (2006)

2009-01-29T13:55:00.009Z

Day #100

Another bloody cold day here in Igloo Land. A bit like the last 99 days now that I think about it. But! It's sooo goddamn cold today that when I tried urinating outside earlier this morning, it froze in mid-air. I kid you not. It's still there actually, suspended about 2 foot off the ground. Quite pretty. For a lump of gravity-defying frozen piss.

But I digress.

THE HAMILTONS (2006)

I found myself smiling and saying “Ahhh, Beautiful.” at the end of this film. The fact that it’s about a family of apparent serial killers might have you thinking, “Hang on, has The Igloo Keeper gone mad?”... but bear with me. I'll explain.

First of all, I am indeed mad. Certified insane by five doctors in fact. All tragically dead now of course.

However, I must repeat - The Hamiltons is a beautiful film. Strangely moving and touching. And best of all, it doesn’t make you feel stupid after you’ve watched it like, oh, every single modern horror film.

And so to the plot. The Hamiltons are a young family who are struggling to cope with the recent loss of their parents.

We have David, the ‘responsible’ one, twins Darlene & Wendell, the ‘bad ones’, and young Francis, the ‘good guy’.

And one other who shall remain nameless for the time being.

A dysfunctional family like many others then. But one with dark, bloody secrets lurking in the basement… like the two hitch-hikers bound and gagged. Like the other bodies strewn all around like... like cattle.

The Hamiltons takes this promising scenario and skillfully avoids becoming a) a dumb gorefest or b) a dumb comedy-horror. Instead it becomes, well, like I said - a strangely moving, beautifully shot and acted piece of film-making. But that’s just my opinion… you really should see for this yourself.

Hmmm, still can’t stop thinking that I’ve forgotten to mention someone…?

MYSTERY OF THE WAX MUSEUM (1933)

2009-01-23T10:46:00.026Z

Day #26

On my daily trek I notice a polar bear and a penguin sitting together – surely they’re from completely different continents?

In my excitement I forgot about the fact that a polar bear would probably tear me limb for limb, and rush to meet them.

The mystery is solved. The Polar Bear and penguin are but mere drawings on a large white canvas. On the back is written these cryptic words, “On the outside grows the furside, on the inside grows the skinside.”

Someone is toying with me. Someone is watching me. In the name of God, what can it all mean???

MYSTERY OF THE WAX MUSEUM (1933)

Mystery of the Wax Museum was remade in 1953 with exactly the same story but a different title, ‘House of Wax’.
‘House of Wax’ was remade in 2005 with exactly the same title but a completely different story.

Go figure… can a film be a remake if it’s a completely different story? And if it has Paris Hilton in it? Answers on a postcard to the usual address please…

In the meantime we’re in London, where Lionel Atwill is a wonderful sculptor of wax figures. When his employer sets fire to his museum for the insurance money, he’s understandably a bit miffed. The two have a fight amongst the flames. It’s a rather wonderful fight - real knockabout stuff as the wax figures melt and the sculptor and his dreams disappear…

A few short years later and we’re in modern day 1930’s Noo Yoik! A brand new Wax Museum is being opened by Lionel Atwill, now in a wheelchair with horribly burned and useless hands. The waxworks look as good as ever though. Maybe too good, as some of them are uncannily similar to the visages of recently dead people. Recently dead people whose bodies have been stolen from the City Morgue (or ‘Da City Moig’ as they say in the film).

I’ve read praise being heaped on Atwill’s subtle and nuanced performance in this movie but I’m afraid I much prefer Mr Vincent Price's later portrayal in House of Wax. Atwill is so subtle that he doesn’t actually do much until the gripping finale when he kicks off big time. Vinny is much more memorable. More theatrical and dynamic. I like my bad guys theatrical and dynamic.

And Fay Wray is gorgeous, but not an especially amazing actress on this showing - although she gives good scream as ever, especially when she cracks the mask of Atwill (I should probably try and remember his charcter's name)and discovers the horrifying sight that lurks underneath!

Thank God for Glenda Farrell then, playing feisty blonde bombshell reporter Florence Dempsey.

She MAKES the movie she does, playing her part with such joyous energy that she almost single-handedly gives the movie its sense of drama, urgency and fun. If the scene's got her in it, then we're instantly caught up in the story. Without her, we're suddenly reminded that we're watching a very old movie...

She can talk. Boy, the girl can talk! It’s one of those 100 mile per hour voices that they just don’t do any more. Apparently she was renowned for it, and could speak 400 words a minute. It’s a joy to watch. The scenes with her and her editor Joe, an almost-but-not-quite-as fast-talking Noo Yoiker are great, as they both prattle on to each other about… well about stuff that makes no apparent sense:

Florence: As I live and breathe and wear spats - the prince!
Jim: You been doing experiments with scotch and soda again?
Florence: Where'd you get that news item, from a little bird?
Jim: Yeah, have a pleasant vacation?
Florence: Charming, more delightful people crippled.

I mean, like huh???

Here’s another wonderful Florence quote that had me scratching my head:

Florence: [describing the disfigured man’s appearance] And that face , it was like an African war mask.
Detective: You mean he was coloured?
Florence: I don't know what he was , but he made Frankenstein look like a lily.

Bearing in mind that Mystery of the Wax Museum came out only a couple of short years after Frankenstein, I suppose this line may have been received as a topical, witty gag by audiences. If you can remember, drop me a line...

Mystery of the Wax Museum is definitely a classic, and it was considered lost until the 1960’s, we should be extremely grateful for the chance to watch it.

You’ll find Mystery of the Wax Museum as an extremely generous extra on the House of Wax (1953) DVD. You’ll enjoy both. Add ‘Carry on Screaming’ for a triple bill and you'll be 'frying tonight'!

ISLE OF THE DEAD (1945)

2009-01-14T10:02:00.004Z

Day #16

Clear weather again today, so I venture west and attempt to map my surroundings...

I had been walking for several uneventful hours when it hit me!

I looked around – nothing. So I attempted to carry on walking and it hit me again! Some sort of invisible force field!

I walked as far as I could to the left, and to the right. No way through. Am I trapped? Trapped like an animal? Like an animal in… an arctic force-field?

I find myself pondering upon this question back in the igloo, as the TV flickers on and offers up a melancholy tale of people trapped on an island – is this another message aimed at me? Must… write. Must… record…

ISLE OF THE DEAD (1945)

Isle of the Dead - a beautifully subtle and understated horror movie - is one of famed producer Val Lewton’s 9 seminal horror films he made for RKO in the 1940’s. Val Lewton's horrors have a unique style all of their own, as he favours atmosphere and trepidation over shocks and monsters. Brain over brawn, if you will, which makes for a type of film-making that has stood the test of time rather well.

To my mind (semi-frozen in the arctic wasteland as it is), Isle of the Dead has an awful lot in common with Lewton’s 1942 masterpiece ‘Cat People’. In both, superstition plays a central part. In both, a young lady is under suspicion of being some sort of supernatural being. In both, superstition and madness become intertwined…

Several people find themselves quarantined on a Greek Island during The Balkans War. Among them we have a stern General played with magnificent restraint by Boris Karloff. Others present include a British consul and his invalid wife, a military doctor, an attractive young lady, and an incredibly annoying old Greek peasant women.

And so the group find themselves stuck on this island together, as the plague takes hold and they start to die off. And as if this wasn’t enough, the old Greek woman starts ranting about a Vorvolaka (some sort of Greek vampire sort of thing) being in their midst – and she’s pointing her crooked old arthritic Greek finger straight at the attractive young lady!

What follows is 90 minutes of a beautifully shot and wonderfully acted (especially Karloff) meditation on superstition, science, mortality, war, disease and madness.

It’s a truly haunting movie (no pun intended) with a foreboding atmosphere throughout, a chilling ending that gets right under your skin, and a premature burial thrown in for good measure. Essential viewing for the Horror connoisseur!

FROM DUSK TILL DAWN (1996)

2009-01-10T01:18:00.010Z

Day #424

Another trek due north. And the same impossible thing happens as yesterday. I end up BACK at MY igloo - The Igloo of the Uncanny (in case you haven’t been paying attention).

The mystery deepens when I discover someone has paid a visit! Written on a fresh page of my notebook is an unintelligible phrase, “KOM DERE VEKK IDIOTER!!!”.

What can it mean???

Today's movie appears to be the first one from the 90's... surely another clue...

FROM DUSK TILL DAWN (1996)

Has it really been 12 years? I remember watching this and loving it way back when it first came out – as I'm sure you did – but for some shameful reason I haven’t watched it from start to finish since. I’m delighted I have now though, because I’ve fallen in love with it all over again. Which reminds me of how I met my ex-fiancee again after a long absence. My ex-fiancee who I ended up killing. But that’s another story.

There are so many wonderful moments in From Dusk Till Dawn. Only an idiot would attempt to whittle them down into one of those dumb, lazy ‘Top 5 moments’ lists. Anyway, here are my top 5 moments from From Dusk Till Dawn:

1. The start. The hold-up in the convenience store.

Wonderful Tarantino dialogue which George Clooney is absolutely made for. The scene ends with Clooney and Tarantino walking away from the building as it explodes. I’m a sucker for any scene where someone walks away from an exploding building without flinching.

2. The many faces of Cheech Marin. He’s the border guard. Then he’s the fabulously monickered Chet Pussy.
And Carlos at the end. I fucking love the guy.

3. Vampire Quentin. Wonderful make-up. Loved the large forehead. Vamp Harvey Kietel wasn’t too shabby either.

4. Salma Hayek.

No explanation required.

5. The ending. The farewell between Cloonie and Juliette Lewis is kind of touching. And so he goes of to El Rey. Which is a place name from The Getaway , obviously, but I remember reading somewhere else that it’s supposed to be Hell. THE Hell. With a capital ‘H’. Which explains Clooney’s reluctance to allow Juliette to tag along. As he says, he "may be a bastard, but not a fucking bastard." Which is more or less what Bogart said to Bergmann at the end of Casablanca.

TEETH (2007)

2009-01-09T00:35:00.005Z

Day #323

A clear day! A chance to venture out and take stock of my new surroundings.
And so I travel due north until - ye gods!
A sign of life! Another igloo!But why this sense of creeping dread?
I soon discover why. Upon further inspection it becomes clear.
It's MY igloo! Igloo of the Uncanny!
I could have sworn I travelled due north. I must have become disoriented. That must be the answer. It MUST be!
Tomorrow if the weather permits, I shall try once again. But until then, another message on the TV to decipher...

TEETH (2007)

Dammit, I had a whole lot of lame puns lined up for this one, but I loved it so much I've decided to spare you. Teeth has a ridiculous premise, of course. But the story is told with such skill we believe it without difficulty. And that, in a nutshell, is the essence of any good Horror story.

Carrie is probably the closest reference point to Teeth If I'm being lazy (and I am). Carrie, with a heavy dose of Cronenbergian body mutation. Mix together with a touch of Braindead style comedy and there you have it - a fine addition to last year's sparse Horror pickings. Deeply funny, and with a wonderful central performance by Jess Wiexler.

Ok, so I've agreed not to laugh at Teeth. So let's laugh at these responses to a request on IMDB for alternate taglines to the movie. Be warned - this is juvenile humour of the worst kind.

Needless to say, if you're easily offended, these may offend you.

And I guess they contain spoilers.

Here goes then. I'm building these up too much, I just know I am:

1. The box that takes cocks. Forever!
2. Eat Pussy! Or I'll eat you!
3. You thought she was on her period and then she realised... it was your blood!
4. This box chomps back!
5. Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the vagina!

The best thing about the last one was that it sparked a debate about whether you're legally allowed to use the word vagina on a tagline. Marvellous stuff. IMDB is one of my guilty pleasures but a word of warning - use it sparingly!

THE FOG (1980)

2009-01-05T15:02:00.016Z

Day #44.
Rations dwindling.
One packet of stale water biscuits and a few cans of Bully Beef dated November '10.

Which doesn't sound too bad until you notice the "By Royal Appointment of His Majesty King Edward VII" printed next to it.

So - I decide to brave the outdoors on a foraging expedition. Curse my luck! Within minutes I'm stuck in fog of unholy thickness. And to my sphincter-loosening horror I discover I've lost sight of the igloo!

Eventually, praise be to God - I manage to stumble back upon it. I enter, somewhat chastened by my ordeal - for I was perilously close to having been lost forever to that accursed fog!

No sooner had I settled down however, when once again the TV crackles into life! I ready myself to note any clues. Doing so may even help take my mind off my narrow escape in that damned fog...

THE FOG (1980)

The Fog is an absolute masterclass in creating tension and suspense. A feeling of creeping dread is palpable throughout. And it's all because of these 5 SCARY THINGS ABOUT THE FOG:

1. STEVIE WAYNE’S VOICE ON THE RADIO

That throaty, smoky, croaky drawl is an integral and unforgettable part of the movie. Yes, I know she’s on our side but that voice kinda creeps me out. It’s sexy, but sinister as well, in the way that… Madonna showing off her biceps is. I reckon that if The Fog itself had a voice, it would sound exactly like Stevie Wayne. Come to think of it, has Stevie Wayne and The Fog ever been seen in the same room together?? It’s worth investigating. No doubt the ratings on her radio show shot up after the 'fog' show, so would it be stretching the bounds of credibility for them to be in league together?

2. TOM ATKINS' ENORMOUS HEAD

Once again, I know he’s on our side, but Tom Atkins' unfeasibly large head has always freaked me out. It’s enormous. Like an orange on a tooth-pick. It’s like he’s wearing a paper mache mask of his own face. Why would anyone want to do that? What possible motives could he have? That’s what freaks me out about him.

3. THE MUSIC
John Carpenter is – or was at least – the absolute master in creating these sinister synth soundtracks signalling impending doom. A wonderful way of racking up tension throughout the movie. Da-da-da… da-da-da… da-da-da…da-da-da… you know how it goes like...

4. SHADOWY BADDIES

What horror lurks in the shadows of our mind? What fresh madness awaits those who unlock doors where the unknown lurks? What our imagination can conjure up will always be more effective than anything shown on screen, so Carpenter's decision to leave Blake and co. in the shadows makes them more sinister than anything today’s CGI computer boffins could conceive. Would The Fog have been as effective if Blake was made up like that tentacle-faced fuckwit from Pirates of the Caribbean? No, of course it wouldn’t. Stop asking such stupid questions.

5. THE SHOCK ENDING
Carrie was made only a few short years earlier so I’m guessing that shock(!) endings were still very much in vogue when The Fog rolled in. And as much as I love it, the rationale behind it worries me. Because it means that the ghostly Blake must have changed his mind. He must have been walking back to his ship and then thought, “ Nah bollocks, I'm not going to let the priest away with it after all, hold up lads - I’ll go back and kill him.” Frankly, I can’t imagine an unworldy entity being so indecisive…

DR TERROR'S HOUSE OF HORRORS (1965)

2009-01-03T13:22:00.017Z

Day #22.
Temperature: Freezing.
Weather: Blizzard.
Visibility: Don't know - can't see for the blizzard.

Confined to my igloo with nothing but the endless static on the battered old transistor radio for company. Then - a miracle! An ancient portable TV in the corner (yes, this igloo does have a corner) crackles into life! A message starts to appear! Perhaps this could be a clue as to why I'm here? And how I can get out? I'll fetch a pen and paper. Must write this down. Must record what happens...

DR TERROR'S HOUSE OF HORRORS (1965)

Roy Castle, Kenny Lynch and Alan 'Fluff' Freeman???

Why, it can only be a classic British horror anthology from Amicus!

It's a great title for a horror movie, but I have issues with it. We meet Dr. Terror on a train. We never see his house. So why not call it Dr. Terror's Train of something or other... Horror, Trauma, Doom, whatever... why house???

Anyway, we're on the train. The 7:55 express to Bradley. It's one of those wonderful old fashioned carriages where 6 people could sit together. One of them is the mysterious, bushily eyebrowed Dr. Schreck (Peter Cushing). Schreck means 'terror' in German apparently. Hence the title. Although unless 'house' means 'train' in German, I still have issues with it.

Dr. Schreck whips out a pack of Tarot cards and, what with this being the days before iPods and Nintendo's, he manages to interest the other guys enough to tell each his future... future... future... future...

First up is a promising but disappointing tale called 'Werewolf' in which an architect travels home to a Scottish island to renovate an old house of his, now owned by an odd old lady. It's a bit of a plodder. Next.

The second story is a bit silly. And not in a good way, as Alan 'Fluff' 'Not 'arf' 'Howdy Pop-pickers'Freeman get terrorised by a killer plant. Not as much fun as you'd think.

The third story's a belter! Now we're talking! Biff Bailey (Roy Castle) steals music from an ancient voodoo ritual during a visit to the West Indies. When he performs his new song back in blighty all HELL breaks loose (as a disapproving Kenny Lynch looks on). Marvellous stuff, despite being borderline racist.

Then we come to the fourth and finest installment, the unforgettable 'Disembodied Hand'. Step forward Christopher Lee...

... a harsh, pompous, twat of an art critic who constantly lets everyone know how awful he thinks artist Eric Landor's (Michael Gough) work is. Eric gets his revenge when he fools Lee into praising a work by an unknown artist, who is then revealed to be a chimpanzee! Much hilarity ensues, and Eric should have left it at that really, but he proceeds to rub it in by constantly following Lee to important functions and reminding him of his lapse of judgement. Making monkey sounds at him. Throwing bananas at him, that sort of thing. Eventually Lee snaps and takes his revenge by running the artist down in cold blood. The artist loses his hand. But not for long, as the hand proceeds to stalk poor Christopher Lee!
As an eight year old, this was terrifying stuff indeed. As The Igloo Keeper, perhaps not quite as terrifying. But still fabulous fun!

The final part 'Vampire' features a young Donald Sutherland...

...who suspects his wife is a vampire. I liked it. Very nice twist.

And then we're back in the train carriage as it reaches its destination... where can they be?

I have a bit of a problem with the ending(as well as the title, now that I come to think about it) in as much as - I just don't get. Oh, I realise that it's about not being able to cheat death or something but... why all the palaver? Why all the tales about vampires and werewolves if... ? If you've seen it, and you're not as dumb as me, please explain... you know my address: The Igloo Keeper, Igloo of the Uncanny, Desolate Arctic Wasteland.

Becoming...

2009-01-02T10:56:00.006Z

“Enjoy your exile, murderer!” shouted the pilot and co-pilot in unison as they threw me out the plane. “Don’t I get a parachute?” I replied, not unreasonably. But it was too late, and I was already plummeting to the icy wastes below...

Luckily I landed on some soft snow and some talking penguins sheltered and fed me. Until I realised I was hallucinating, and they left on a magic carpet.

And so I found myself wandering. Lost, half-mad and half-dead, all hope gone. Then I saw the igloo.

Something uncanny about it, I remember thinking. Maybe it was the supernatural glow that seemed to emanate deep from within it. Maybe it was the sense of destiny that I felt as I stumbled towards it. Maybe it was the large wooden sign saying ‘Igloo of the Uncanny’ nailed above the door…

It was warm inside. The old man said nothing as he handed me a hot drink. I gulped it down greedily and fell into a deep sleep. Such strange dreams… of falling down a long flight of stairs… standing on a black beach looking at a red sea… and when I awoke the old man had gone. But when my eyes fell upon his dirty old shaving mirror, I saw his face staring back at me.

Maybe I’ve always been him.

Maybe I’ve always been here.

Happy New Year!

2008-12-31T22:58:00.002Z

If you're reading this message - and even if you're not reading this message but have visited my blog in the past - thanks so much! Your support means a lot. It means that I can carry on knowing that I'm being read! Feel free to submit any comments, good or bad about anything at all - what you want to see, what you don't want to see, what you don't really care if you see or not - anything.

However, I must warn you that this message represents a sort of farewell. For no longer will I be a short fat bald 38 year old Scottish person living in London. From tomorrow I am going to write in character. From tomorrow my home is an igloo in the barren wastes of some godforsaken arctic (or antarctic) tundra. From tomorrow I am. The Igloo Keeper!

SON OF DRACULA (1943)

2008-12-31T10:56:00.009Z

How much you enjoy Son of Dracula depends on how willing you are to accept Lon Chaney in the role of the blood-sucking Count. I’m willing.

A common criticism of Chaney’s performance is that he’s a little too heavy for the role, which I think is a bit harsh. He’s a big man, but he’s not out of shape and his bulk gives Dracula another dimension of menace. So now, not only can he hypnotize you and bite your neck, he can also punch your lights out as well. See the scene where he throws the hapless Frank through a set of thick double doors for proof. Yes, I’m a fan of Chaney's performance in this film and am more than willing to overlook the fact that he doesn’t even try to put an accent on.

The film is set somewhere in The South. Swamp country. In the Bayou, whatever that means. A rich American woman invites the strange Count Alucard over from his homeland in Europe and before any of her friends and family can say “Internet relationships never last” she marries him! You see, she knows that he’s Dracula, and is more than happy to accept a quick bite in exchange for eternal life. In a noir-ish twist however, once bitten (don’t worry I won’t make a ‘twice shy’ pun) she double-crosses Dracula and calls on her ex-boyfriend to ‘Whack Drac’ and stake a claim for heart (sorry). She needs him to ‘take Dracula out’. Into the sunlight, preferably.

Highlights include Alucard’s sly little look into the camera – right at the audience!!! – before he makes his entrance. And you will also have the pleasure of experiencing one of the eeriest scenes in cinematic history - the first glimpse of the newly undead Louise Albritton, resplendent with a supernatural glow and the merest trace of an unholy smile… it’s a brilliantly acted and directed set-piece. Unforgettable.

You’ll also spot the lovely Evelyn Ankers, who was Larry’s love interest in The Wolf Man.

Here, she plays the good sister, as opposed to her naughty ‘morbid’ sister.

I’ll leave you with one final thought. Is Count Alucard the son of Dracula? Or is it Dracula himself? That, dear reader, would be telling... myoohahaha! Myoohahaahahahaaaa! Myoo...cough!

DEAD SET (2008)

2008-12-30T10:53:00.013Z

Dead Set was a 5-part TV special here in the UK earlier this year. That’s right – a zombie TV series! It wasn’t perfect, but it was good. Very good in fact. As it’s the season of goodwill I’m going to be nice to it.

Dead Set revolves around the UK version of reality TV show Big Brother. We’ve had Horror movies based around fictional reality TV shows before (My Little Eye, Wrong Turn 2) but this is a real reality one. If you get my drift. And it’s very well observed indeed. The highlight has surely got to be real-life presenter Davina McCall getting killed. Twice. First as a human, then as a zombie. Very satisfying indeed. To be fair to her, she’s a very good zombie. Still a pain in the arse presenter though.

We follow the inhabitants of the Big Brother house as they attempt to survive a class 4 zombie outbreak, and get their heads around the fact that they’re not on TV anymore. The witty script provides lots of laughs throughout, and the zombie make-up - the most important feature of any zombie film in my not so humble opinion - is pretty damn fine.

Weaknesses? Well, there are no real surprises. No twists or turns. Just a fairly linear plot with the usual zombie cliches i.e. the trip for supplies, the heroic journey to find the loved one... all done in a sub-28 Days Later style, with camera-work so jerky that it makes Paul Greengrass look like a paraplegic. And washed-out colour has its place, but I got a colour TV for a reason, ok?

Oh, and one day someone’s going to have the guts to tell Ray Winstone’s daughter that she can’t really act.

Not me though.

But enough with the negative waves, Moriarty! Dead Set is a worthy addition to the zombie genre. And certainly the finest UK Zombie TV series this year. Put it on your list. If you don't have a list, get one.

CAPTAIN KRONOS - VAMPIRE HUNTER (1974)

2008-12-28T01:10:00.010Z

A great film. Dammit, this SHOULD have been the first in a series of raunchy Captain Kronos escapades!

But it wasn't. That was the plan, but poor box office returns - and the demise of Hammer - put paid to it. So while we have a sequel to the likes of 'The Whole Nine Yards' and 'Miss Congeniality', we only have one Captain Kronos to enjoy. And only one season of 'Firefly', which is another travesty - but back to Kronos...

Captain Kronos himself, played by Horst Janson, is gorgeous. Think James Hunt crossed with a James Hunt lookalike:

If I was female, or just a little bit gayer, I'd shack up with CK at the drop of a hat, and roam around the country with him and his hunchback sidekick Grost. This is exactly what the frankly stunning Caroline Munro does in her role as Carla...

... even though it turns out that Captain Kronos is a bit rough on the shagging front. The memory of having to kill his wife and child when they turned into vampires has made him cold and distant. But let's push such bedtime foibles aside and get down to the business of vampire hunting!

A mysterious shadowy figure is stalking the pretty young girls of some typical Hammer countryside. These innocent young maidens end up drained, wizened and haggard looking. Old, ugly and scary! Time and time again we're shocked as a seemingly lovely young damsel turns to face us and YE GODS! She's turned into a scary old hag! I say 'hats off' to the actresses whose job it is to play these old hags actually. Can't be easy for them, because no doubt some of them were lookers back in the day. Then one fine morning, the call from their agent comes in, saying something like, "So then the audience sees the back of this attractive young maiden, who turns round and - bloody hell, it's horrible! It's you! Everyone screams and shits themselves, it's a great part!"

Back to the story. Kronos and co. arrive to team up with Dr. Marcus, an old friend of Kronos. I say team up, they actually end up killing him when he turns into a vampire. Despite being professional vampire hunters it's quite an inept killing as they stake him, then hang him, then try and set fire to him, before he ends it himself with a crucifix. He obviously got bored of them messing about.

Eventually we're led to the local castle...

Hammer Horror Rule #129: Any murders or supernatural goings on will always be down to the residents of the largest house in the locality.

... where a brother and sister and their haggard old mother come under suspicion. What's more, this family have been seen hanging around the grave of their dear departed father. An expert swordsman. As is Kronos. Wouldn't it be great if we get a swordsman showdown finale?

And we do. It ends with Kronos victorious, and dumping Carla (the swine) with the words, "I'm off to fight evil, wherever it may lurk!". As an aside, I once tried splitting up with an old girlfriend using that exact line and still have a 'J' shaped scar on my chin from where she threw a 'Police Academy 5: Assignement: Miami Beach' video at me. But obviously Kronos has much more style than me, and so he gallops of with Grost, into the distance and onto another great adventure. But not another film, unfortunately. Humbug!

VAULT OF HORROR (1973)

2008-12-27T00:58:00.006Z

Ah.... Vault of Horror. As comfortable as a favourite pair of slippers. As welcome as a scotch on the rocks from the good lady wife when you return from a hard day at the office. As faithful as an...erm, a faithful dog...

... for this is one of those wonderful Amicus British Horror anthologies from the 70's. Great British actors present include Tom Baker, Terry-Thomas and Denholm Elliot. Denholm Elliot is a fantastic actor and always plays exactly the same part - a shifty guy who has double-crossed someone and is now a nervous wreck, in mortal fear of his life. And who then dies. Brilliant.

It all starts with 5 strangers in a lift. The lift doesn't stop at the ground floor (it would be a rubbish film if it did) but goes onto the sub-basement and traps them in a vault. Handily furnished with comfy chairs and alcohol. The 5 pass the time be swapping stories of recent nightmares... nightmares... nightmares... nightmares...

No spoilers ahead - don't worry, something deep inside me, some ancient law of horror prevents me from even thinking about revealing the ending to these delicious little tales of terror. A brief summary of each then:

Midnight Mess
A most enjoyable opener. The terrific Daniel Massey (very posh. moustache. you'll recognise him) visits a small, deserted town to do away with his sister, the swine! But where are the inhabitants of the town? And what about that charming little restaurant? What is on the menu?

A Neat Job
Wonderful! This one has stayed with me ever since I first saw it aged 8 or 9 back in the day. Terry-Thomas is a stickler for tidiness. Will his wife be able to keep the house tidy enough to meet his expectations? Or will... I've said too much already.

This Trick'll Kill You
A pretty poor third installment. A magician searches for a new trick in India. Why, he's desperate enough to kill for it. And there are no repercussions for him whatsoever...
Only joking. Obviously there are some repercussions.

Bargain in Death
Poor. notable only for the Horror writer's "There's no money in horror!" line and the fact that we see him reading a novelisation of a previous Amicus horror anthology Tales From the Crypt! The plot? He plans an insurance scam that involves him being buried alive. Unwise, as it turns out.

Drawn and Quartered
A classic finale. Tom Baker is the wronged artist who wreaks revenge on his wrongers (try saying that after seven Christmas egg-nogs) with the help of some nifty voodoo that allows him to trash his paintings with horrifying consequences for the person in the drawing. One of the wrongers is Denholm Elliott, who plays a shifty guy who has double-crossed someone and is now a nervous wreck, in mortal fear of his life. And who then dies. He always does.

The tales end and we're back in the vault. The lift door lights up. Time for one final twist, perhaps?

BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974)

2008-12-26T02:19:00.004Z

An appalingly obvious choice of film perhaps but don't worry - I'm not hanging around. I wasn't impressed with this so-called classic. The pacing was a bit frustrating, the ending was unsatisfying and... well I just couldn't be arsed with it. That last sentence is quite a good example of why I'm not a film critic. Anyway, as a festive homage to the 3 wise men and 3 shepherds, here's my 3 word review of Black Christmas:

Check. The. Attic!

Merry Christmas everyone!

GREMLINS (1984)

2008-12-23T23:30:00.006Z

Gremlins is the perfect Christmas Horror Movie, because it doesn't try too hard to be a Christmas Horror Movie. Santa Claus isn't the psycho, there are no killer snowmen. No - Christmas is just the time of the year in which the sheer bloody HORROR of Gremlins happens to take place.

Does anyone in this day and age need a review of Gremlins? If they do, then to be quite frank they're not the type of person I want reading this blog. So rather than write a review I've done a Top 5. Top 5's are more fun than reviews. Less thinking involved, so expect more from me in the future.

TOP 5 THINGS ABOUT GREMLINS

1. GIZMO - Nasty gremlins against a cute little furry thing? 9 times out of 10 I'd surely be on the gremlins side. Except Gizmo turns out to be more than a two dimensional cute character. He's a stand up guy. He's got attitude. He can handle himself despite being drop dead cute. A bit like a furry Robert Downey Jnr...

2. DICK MILLER - Dick Miller makes any film okay.

3. PHOEBE CATES - From personal experience, there are 2 types of women in the world - there are those who laugh in your face and walk off when you ask them out, and there are the ones who say "I'm really sorry, Igloo Keeper but I'm doing something else that night. And every other night." Phoebe is one of the latter. In fact, she'd probably even give me a sympathetic kiss on the cheek. Before she left me forever.

4. THE STAIR-LIFT SCENE - In all honesty this should be number 1 but I'm a bit too embarassed about how hilarious I still find it, God I'm not 14 years old anymore. When my son is old enough to watch this with me I'm going to try an tut disapprovingly all the way through.

5. KATE'S SANTA STORY - Every Comedy Horror needs a hint of genuine darkness. And here it is; "The worst thing that ever happened to me was on Christmas. Oh, God. It was so horrible. It was Christmas Eve. I was 9 years old. Me and Mom were decorating the tree, waiting for Dad to come home from work. A couple hours went by. Dad wasn't home. So Mom called the office. No answer. Christmas Day came and went, and still nothing. So the police began a search. Four or five days went by. Neither one of us could eat or sleep. Everything was falling apart. It was snowing outside. The house was freezing, so I went to try to light up the fire. That's when I noticed the smell. The firemen came and broke through the chimney top. And me and Mom were expecting them to pull out a dead cat or a bird. And instead they pulled out my father. He was dressed in a Santa Claus suit. He'd been climbing down the chimney... his arms loaded with presents. He was gonna surprise us. He slipped and broke his neck. He died instantly. And that's how I found out there was no Santa Claus."

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!

Here's a mad Polish poster to enjoy:

SON OF FRANKENSTEIN (1939)

2008-12-23T00:19:00.010Z

I recommend watching this as a double bill with 'Young Frankenstein'. Son of Frankenstein MUST SURELY have been the one Mel Brooks had in mind most when creating his hilarious horror homage - so there are lots of lovely matching moments to look out for; secret compartments, mad assistants, portraits of dead dads, locals with pitchforks, a wooden-armed policeman... to name but a few.

Not to mention some huge, impressive knockers!

Rathbone's turn as Wolf Frankenstein is terrific. Manic, over the top and bloody funny. Watch it and you'll begin to realise that Gene Wilder's performance in Young Frankenstein wasn't all that far-fetched.

And then there's Karloff and Lugosi...

Horror Tip #753: Never hire an assistant called Ygor, Igor or a derivative thereof. It'll end in trouble.

Lugosi has rarely been better in this role as Ygor, the devious, cunning, horrible, smelly (probably) assistant that has an uncanny hold over the monster. It's all in the pipes, you see.

Son of Frankenstein may not top the original 'Frankenstein' or 'Bride', but throw me into a pit of sulphur and call me Ygor if it isn't still great fun. Rathbone is a joy to watch as his deperation takes hold and things descend to something resembling high farce, what with him bolting around his castle with a one-armed policeman hot on his trail. Terrific stuff. Added to the sense of farce is the fact that when Wolf's wife is shouting his name, it sounds like she's shouting "Woof!". Well, it made me laugh anyway...

And it's done in a wonderful setting. The castle looks stunning, all deep shadows and crazy angles. Why, there's not a straight line in the place! Enough to drive anyone mad.

Finally, there's a cheering crowd at the train station, and a happy ending to enjoy - until the train pulls out the station and you think, "Hang on, why aren't they arresting him?". Best not to worry too much about it though. Just sit back enjoy Son of Frankenstein - and those impressive knockers!

DUEL (1971)

2008-12-22T00:37:00.006Z

Where did it all go wrong Mr. Spielberg? Duel was the last decent film that this little-known Director made before sliding into sentimental mediocrity. You may occasionally catch one of his snooze-fests pop up on a dreary afternoon, but he remains largely forgotten.

The plot is a simple one. Truck chases car.

The guy in the car being chased - the chasee - is Dennis Weaver, looking very 70's indeed (as he does in all the films I've seen him. All 70's films now that I recall, so perhaps not that surprising actually. Forget this bit in brackets).

But why is he being chased? And who's in the truck?

Rather refreshingly, this being the 70's, there are no obvious answers. This was a decade where film-makers didn't find the need to spoon-feed you every ending as if you were brainless idiots. You could argue that there were less brainless idiots about in the 70s I guess, but that's another debate, to be dealt with in another film (my as yet unfinished screenplay of 'Dracula in Space').

Horror rule #754: If the meaning of a horror film is unclear you can always get away with calling it a post 9/11 allegory

In my opinion, Duel is an incredibly prescient post 9/11 allegory. Dennis Weaver is the everyman American, happily and innocently going about his business when all hell is unleashed by a faceless, relentless enemy that just keeps coming and coming...

But maybe I'm reading too much into it (?) Maybe the point of Duel is just to enjoy the ride. Enjoy the scares, the screeches the thrills and the suspense. THE SUSPENSE! This film has buckets of it. And then, as the credits roll I suggest you go "Woah, cool!" in a slightly stoned voice and immediately forget all about it. Because the alternative means thinking about a question that there's no answer to. Which could lead to you spending most of your fruitless life posting ill-thought out missives like "Maybe he's dead!", "Maybe the truck doesn't exist!", "Maybe the truck represents fear itself!", on places like IMDB and other chatrooms and blogs. And what kind of idiot does that?