The Negrita Daniels *ahem, yada-yada* Weekend and Suchlike Blasphemies ... Part #2

After crashing late the following night I woke up dehydrated but without nausea, headache or serious faintness -- either I'm getting more used to liquor (is that bad?!) or those 60 SEK on "Bakis[TM]" really wasn't crock at all... My humble host, on the contrary, had been unfortunately destined to face The Notorious Ambush of Thirteen Goliath Tanks, thus having to recover all morning. While him doing so, I finally decided to see what that fuss about the Pyunilistic POSTMORTEM (1998) was all about:

First of all, you cannot overlook the fact that the protagonist of the film is played by Charlie (oh, sorry CHARLES) Sheen -- Yes! The man from Hot Shots and 2½ Men ... The Man Who Told the Feds about Guinea Pig and made an ass of himself (should have been bullwhipped to the nuts for being such a gullible do-gooder)... But what can I say? Everything is forgotten ... well almost: Mr Sheen portrays the has-been, alcoholic writer and criminal analyst James McGregor (... of the clan McLeod...) who has retired to Scotland after having suffered too much from the disturbed minds of maniacs and still having to smell the aroma of roasting children... However, there's a killer that really wants to get his attention ...

Nothing really happens in POSTMORTEM ... well, a great deal of things happen, but not in that typically emphazised Hollywood way; things appear and take place in such a way they would do in ordinary life, though it's all directed in a way not to make it anything close to boredom. The acting and the film as a whole is good -- but what's best is undoubtedly the colours and the camerawork that on a fine day would make even Dario Argento and his cinematographer jealous. Damn, I said it ... Did I really? Gosh!

When my humble host ultimately had recovered enough strength to appear it was soon time for another feature. What did I want? I had free hands and ventured to ask for a SciFi/Horror ... The dice fell on THE ALIENATOR (Fred Olen Ray: 1990) with the Master of Z-Grade Movies, ex-Herman Wouk devotee, Jan Michael Vincent, in the role, eh not really... There's an intergalactic villain who has escaped being beamed into oblivion by Vincent and Friends' new take on intergalactic electric chairs. What follows is an unsurmountable epic journey into incredible dialogues, remarkeble wardrobes, post 30 year-olds college graduate geekiness and sparkling transsexual alienations by laser gun show apparatus... Apart from the sexy Alienator(-ess) I won't ever stop thinking about the weezing JMV and suffer his ill-fated career while he's staring obsessively down his "secretary's" massive cleavage thinking quietly to himself: "WHAT'S MY FUCKING MOTIVATION FOR THIS SCENE?!" 

The Magical Negrita Daniels Home Cinema Weekend ... South Of The Border ... In Another Part Of ... Part #1: Into The Night And Beyond...

It's been slightly more than two years since I went south of the border, when I finally went AWOL on wife and children and took the non-stop train to another part of [EDIT]... Surprisingly, the trains of SJ were right on schedule so that I could change trains in time and was spared the agony of waiting for the next transport right in the middle of purgatory...

Arriving at my destination, I was greeted by the sombre Count Weekend Horrors himself and his fearsome but trusty hound Zoltan. After a few civil conversations and reminiscing the past it was time for rare to medium kebab at the local abattoir, and we felt that it was good... Back in the Count's lair there was soon time for the first broadcast of some good ole family values:

Humbly I let my host take part in the life of the ASWANG (USA, 1993) and friends... and may I say the Count appeared to be quite impressed, indeed. But now we had passed the time for sobriety and felt the thirsty need for "wine" -- mixed and straight drinks of aged bourbon and rhum flowed in rivulets while we continued our cultural journey into the known and unknown worlds of advisory cinema.

DAUGHTERS OF DARKNESS (Les lèvres rouges; Belgium 1971) is a timeless masterpiece by Monsieur Harry Kümel, and though I find it so much more amazing and rewarding each time I watch it, my humble host is perhaps the film's most fervent acolyte. In any case, the dialogue, the colours, the music... and the characters (oh, how the seemingly weakest persona turns to have the most decisive part in the plot!) play a cat-and-mouse game towards the startling end of this wondrous ride; and for those who don't know what I'm telling ... well ... ;-) 

So, after a few harsh and demanding units down the hatch we both felt ourselves enough softened up to take on an even more demanding task in our trekk towards the Ultimate Film of Family Values -- my Thai favourite, S.P. Somtow's LAUGHING DEAD (1989): You might not ever want to see this feature again, not in sober state, but this film is so awestrikingly laughable that it's completely life-threatening. Laughing Dead delivers one startling one-liner after the other: "She's not possessed; she's got Tourette's syndrome." ... "A disembodied head. Looks a lot like you..." and so on... There are a great deal of cool characthers in here: Apart from Somtow Sucharitkul himself, as the maddeningly piano-playing Um-tzec and the disbelieving catholic priest with a bastard son together with a fallen nun, there is the Aztec answer to Laurel and Hardy making a pretty mess of things... Well, but what about the film and the story -- Hey, you're kidding, right?!

And then...

(to be continued... should I remember further details...)

Ramsey Campbell's "Los sin nombre"

While we're at Jaume Balagueró I might as well tell you a bit about the novel that inspired his Los sin nombre: It's a story of about 250 yellowed paperback pages by one of the most recognized horror/suspense authors in Britain the last 35 years or so -- Ramsey Campbell.

Written in 1981 The Nameless invites us to join a mother's traumatic search for her kidnapped-and-presumed-to-be-dead daughter: The little girl has special powers but is abducted from the daycare center and later a mutilated body is discovered ... Case closed. Years go by and the mother, Barbara, is sublimating the loss of both her husband and her dear daughter, Angela, through hard work as a successful agent and publisher of books. One day when she answers her phone she hears her daughters voice once again...

What follows is a sinister, though somewhat subtle and vague, cat-and-mouse game where Barbara gradually is convinced that Angela is still alive, and where she's taken to strange places in the search for her daughter: First, there's the other young mother having lost her own child to what she calls a horrible sect involved in corruption and torture -- "The Nameless" (whom herself falls victim to a horribly strange fetal creature); second, there's the lady journalist trying to infiltrate their organization, discovering the abominable truth and is lured into a trap causing her slow and painful demise; and, finally, the calls from Angela to Barbara, where the spider gradually entangle its prey in its web of deceit...

The Nameless is, in my opinion, neither a very good book nor a bad one; it's not Ramsey Campbell's better work, by far, but I have been much more disappointed some other novels of his... Let's just say that he is Ramsey Campbell -- the man who can weave such mental frights by means of strange shadows, lopsided people or creatures, and by exploring the boundaries between reality and the supernatural in such a subtle and sublime way that it can either be a total bore... or a complete success...

If Every Director Could Make A Sequel Half As Decent As This One...

There's not so much to say about this movie; it's about a plague of zombies, spreading infection and the hunt for a possessed girl...[REC]2 follows as an immediate continuation of the first film and features a lot more undead and sharp-shooting SWATs ... but manages to keep the dark and unnerving mood up quite nicely. Though I was concered at some sequences of the movie that it would lose itself in a tangle of talk and ammo, towards the end it really delivers and the finale 110% in-your-face satisfying. The man behind the ultra depressive Los sin nombre, the eerie Frágiles, and wonderful [REC] has once again established himself as the one of the leading, current horror directors of the world. 'Nuff said! 

That Crazy Dude From Pennsylvania Is At It Again! Can't Somebody Just Stop Him!

It's a bit strange, when you sometimes consider it, how you always seem to look upon certain directors in a particular way. Dario Argento wasn't by far the first cult director I ventured in the horror/suspens department, but within a few years he'd become recognized force; and later still I consdered him, and still do, the best director I've come across. Never mind Fulci, never mind Carpenter, Cronenberg or Gordon ... Never mind ... George A. Romero!

Yes, Romero... The guy with the Dead-trilogy: It took time for me to appreciate Night of the Living Dead (I still have some qualms about it) and you really have to put you're mind into Dawn of the Dead and all it's three incarnations. Day of the Dead was actually the first film of his that I really could enjoy from the start, while still fast forwarding most of the heavy dialogue... Then, they grow on you -- these films -- and someday you find yourself wanting to watch them again, and actually doing it too. Then you discover that "Oh, he's done other films, yes! No, I didn't realize Monkey Shines was his baby, no." ... And: "Wom, Martin! Could this be his best movie, lost in the shadow of the zombies of Pittsburg ... And The Crazies, gotta see that film again, one day..."

But do I now consider him a personal Top Five cult director now? No, of course not... However, someday soon this strange notion must be reconsidered drastically. A few years ago, George A. Romero -- RIP... but then came a film: Land of the Dead it was called, and I went to see it at the local theatre mainly because of Asia Argento (when I thought I liked her...). Oh, the film was good, not perfect, a bit forgettable perhaps (in my opinion...). So, I still try and see the new Dario Argento half breeds and what comes along: Diary of the Dead. Now, either you seem to really like these movies or you just hate them; personally, I'm not too fond of hand held camera, but together with Balagueró's [REC] films I'm deeply changing my mind about this... Diary was a real surprise for me -- I enjoyed it very much and it was very well made in lots of ways. This can't go on, I thought, and tried on Survival of the Dead. He must be in deep water with this one... But, oh no! I mean, YES! This is not as Diary of the Dead, but perhaps it's even better, better in that typical George Romero way -- and do I really have to say in what... ;-)

Once, Twice, Three Times Is The Charm For Our Fearful Manitou -- Graham Masterton's BURIAL

After three quarters of a year's time re-reading my Masterton novels it finally seems that I with quite certainty would be able to tell you my absolute favorite of his work: Though not yet having re-negotiatied the original trilogy of the Dream Warriors, I will tell you that the answer of the question is ... BURIAL (1992), the third installment of the Manitou series.

First there was The Manitou (1975), which featured the birth of an ancient, terribly vengeful medicin man that is reborn through the back and neck of a young woman to break havoc on the world of the white man. This book, subsequently filmed with Tony Curtis in the lead, had its original ending cut out and replaced by an, arguably, commercially more successful ending. The first ending (much later put back along with the other in a rare, now OOP edition) had the avenging red Indian spirit fight not only Harry Erskine to break civilization, but also the pale-faces venereal deseases as well. In the published version, however, it was changed so that our protagonists should take the spirits (the manitous) of modern technology to help them in their fight against the fearful Misquamacus... A quite decent and clever book, to begin a career with, and a few years later came the first sequel, Revenge of the Manitou (1979) -- not as well crafted as its predecessor, but more entertaining in a nice, pulpy way...

Buríal tells us the story how Misquamacus has made a bargain with the great, dark spirit of the netherworld, Aktunowihio, to bring down everything made by the white man, and all white men included, into the shadow regions of the Shadow Buffalo -- The Great Outside... But to get strenght he has to make the now zombiefied voodoo priest, Sawtooth, to let the malcontented spirits of the black slaves of America to join him in his struggle. Finally, the great Misquamacus is going to keep his word this time and destroy everyone and everything that has taken the land and lives of his people. Though, once again, Harry Erskine and a few friends has something to say about this...

This is a spectacular tale mixing everything of the great Masterton Indian lore with new influences, such as voodooism, and it's quite original in its approach -- In this novel Graham Masterton has really succeeded in writing in a new, fresh and creative way in a manner he has not managed before, or after... Burial is one step above the others -- Family Portrait, Ritual, Prey, Flesh&Blood -- because it takes the best ingredients from all of them and blends it perfectly -- the blood and the macabre, the fantastic mythology -- into a rarely seen adventure that won't leave you untouched, that's a promise.

They were supposed to meet at the River Kiertämä... They Never Made It... SAUNA

Once upon a time, in the barren wilderness, there was a swamp,  with a sauna ...

When the monks came there, long ago, they built a monastery and a village beside it. They thought they could wash away their sins in the sauna... Then they misteriously disappeared...

In 1595, after the 25-year war between Sweden and Russia, a delegation with two brothers, Erik and Knut, and a Russian team have been appointed by both warring parties to map the new borders between the countries, right through the forbidding wastelands of northern Finland. Erik, the older brother, is ageing and has built his whole existence around the war and is not happy that it's finally ended: He believes he has not yet received the prosperity and protection for himself and his family that he deserves. Now he's being robbed of what's his, and he is becoming cynicism and bitterness personified; having killed 73 men, women and children (apparently) he let's his vengeful wrath fall upon a father with his young daughter, stabbing him 73 times. His younger brother Knut, an aspiring academic, is attracted by the girl and locks her up in order to save her from the anger of his brother. But when they leave they forget to let her out...

After a while Knut starts hearing the girl's lamentable whispers in the wind; he sees her across the wastes as a ghost dressed in white. At the same time the commission stumble upon a village. They ask if they pay tax to the Swedish king or the Czar, but they have no idea where they belong. But this fact is the least of the map writers' worries now... It's a strange village, right in the middle of a stretch of wetland, with 73 people, including only one child. And there's a white building right in the middle of the swamp -- a sauna, where, traditionally, the new-born children and the dead were washed from their sins...

Sauna (2008) is something rare as a Finnish horror film. Though Dark Floors was a co-production between Finland and Iceland, we Scandinavians are more used to having our Nordic horror flicks coming out of Norway or Denmark, mainly. Sauna is a very skilfully crafted film that slowly builds up tension; it creates a mood of absolute despondency and fear of the unknown -- all the film's character is built upon layers and layers of smothering uneasiness and dread, created from a beautiful environment with a lovely cinematography. There aren't any prominent special effects, what I can see; there's only some blood. More important, however, is the wonderful performance of the brothers that leads us through a waking nightmare that starts out subtly and slowly and culminates in a shocking display of macabre and beautiful horror.

I must confess I do not completely understand Sauna; but that's not a problem, because logic and safety is not always the most promissing attribute for a movie such as this. To be on the safe side, you could see this  as a journey through the dark minds of twisted psyches, tormented by the desolate landscape surrounding them ... just to be on the safe side ... If you really want to.

The Bastard Offpring of A Bastard Half Breed -- The Descent: Part CRAP!!!

Yeah, I also want to scream my head off, right now...

I thought I'd give it a try, a fair chance ... My God! Forgetting about its predecessor and its director; trying to make head or tail out of all the loose ends; imagining not having flashbacks, throughout, towards the original British masterpiece; fighting hard not to soil myself because of the lousiness of the film ... Damn! It's no use: The Descent: Part 2 is almost as bad in its own right, shouldn't it have been the painful truth that it's a crippled sequel to a misbegotten Americanized, alternative version of the original Neil Marshall film... The Yankees can have their Descent US-chicken-out-bastard-sell-out-feel-better-vanilla-edition if they want to, but trying to make a successful enterprize out this concept makes me want to vomit my innards, I kid you not! The Descent will always be the one and only 2000+ horror/suspense classic with a rarely seen perfect combination of claustrophobia, fear and despair. I'm just sorry that Neil Marshall had to be credited as Executive Producer for The Descent: Part 2 ... However, I'm certain that he cannot be to blame for what was going on with the actual film, in a creative manner so to speak... Anyway: The Descent is DEAD; long live THE DESCENT!!!

Is the fate of SEUL Irreversible? Gaspar Noé's I STAND ALONE

There's nothing to it. It's the life of a sorry chump. They should write that someday. The story of a man like so many others, as common as can be. It starts off in France, shithole of cheese and Nazi lovers.

Seul contre tous (I Stand Alone, 1998): Hell, I spent six years studying the beauty of French and the next 13 years denying it. Well, that’s until a few years ago when I got a job at a school that partly included teaching twelve-year-olds the language. So it goes... At approximately the same time I’d got hold of a non-subtitled French print of High Tension, trying to understand normal-paced speech, not getting the complete picture but at least figuring out the basics of the plots and discussions.

Now, having somewhat fallen in love again with the frog parley it’s not because of Mireille Mathieu’s soft vocal cords but the vulgar and brutal rambles of hard, cynical and maladjusted middle-aged white men with a whisky voice and beginning beer gut. As with our hero in I Stand Alone: He is the personification of the whole movie, which in its turn is the complete embodiment of one thing only – you’re alone in this world (that is, apart from life being totally pointless and you’re nothing but shit etc, etc, yada-yada...)!

Not much really happens in this film, if you subtract the brutal wife-beating and the cathartic, mental wanderings of our dear protagonist. Instead it’s a slow-paced analysis of what goes on, within and without; and it’s all told in the first person narrative – through the eyes of our main character, our dear butcher. What we’re given from the start is a real downer. The film is a complete display of misanthropy and degradation, though brought to us with a certain amount of black comedy for those who might appreciate it that way. But is it really that a despondent tale? Well, he’s at least out to search for his lost daughter; thus it would seem that the ultimate, turnaround ending of the film brings us some genuine hope – so did director Gaspar Noé ultimately chicken?

Whatever it may be, it’s still a quite good and inteligent little movie. What I like most about Seul, apart from the maddened droning of the butcher, is the sound effects of vocal “booms” and the deranged, beehive murmurs accompanying the deteriorating monologues of the film.

Finally, the butcher is lovely portrayed by Philippe Nahon, who you can also see in a number of other disinherited, bastard films of La France -- first of all I suggest you look for him in the wonderful Haute Tension by Alexandre Aja... 

A French Fried Somewhere In Betwixt ... Pascal Laugier's MARTYRS

Lucie was only a victim. Like all the others...

Martyrs (2008) is neither the best nor the worst French shocker in recent years. Numero uno is still Haute Tension (aka. High Tension), while the old front-runner Baby Blood being the most entertaining one. For some seriously sub-par efforts, though, I would reserve a couple of seats for Baise-Moi (no, Rape/Revenge is not made the way it used to) and the recently produced Vertige (and, no we’re not going to say anything about this sleeper).

Anyway, as it appears to me you could either love or hate Martyrs. Personally, ambiguous feelings dominate my view of this film: It’s divided into two main, clearly distinct, parts – the first being the interesting and frightening one; the second being the derivative, boring one. Those of you who have already seen it might just have a clue of what I mean.

But here you have it: The now grown-up, tortured child returns to seek her revenge. She is followed by the mental spectre of a fellow sufferer she couldn’t help while busy making her escape; this phantom from the past forcing her to inflict pain and death in order to make amends. Then she dies, having avenged herself and her ghostly companion. So what’s next? The other part, then: The victim’s friend comes along, cannot save the day, and is herself taken captive by the religious sect with the only goal to create true martyrs who, through immense suffering, will tell them about the mysteries of what lies beyond death. And this, did I forget to tell you (?), is the lesser part of the movie: Not really bad, but quite boring (at least during the second viewing) – we are carried through some vicious tortures that leave nothing to the imagination. The ending, though arguably ripped from the far superior Los sin nombre, is still a good thing since it somewhat redeems the degenerating plot and gives us the usual, welcome feeling of “Hardy-har-har! You all got what they deserved, suckers... Well most you ... I guess.”

All-in-all, I still believe Martyrs is worth seeing, perhaps even owning – especially in a Noble kind of way, don’t you think?

[REQ] Earlie Camp Slaughter Review From Ye Olde Days of Darkdisc.com, in Swedish!

Här är min tidiga recension av Camp Slaughter som efterfrågats. Jag skrev den några dagar efter jag sett den på biografen och skickade texten tillsammans med bild på Marklund till den tidiga Darkdisc-sajten där jag skrev krönikor och annat under en period... Enjoy!

CAMP SLAUGHTER

I rollerna: Annika Marklund,

Fred Andersson,

Christian Magdu, m.fl.

Regi: Martin Munthe

Manus: Alina Warne

Producent: Anneli Engström

Distributör: Sandrews

Biopremiär: 17 januari

DVD-premiär: 5 maj

”Skrattretande skräckis”, ”Överkorkad dialog”, och ”Nicke Lilltrolldrama” – det var dessa kritikerrosade uttalanden som fick mig att gå till gamla Palladium i Växjö och se CAMP SLAUGHTER på vita duken. Det är en nyproducerad svensk skräckfilm, vilket sannerligen inte tillhör vanligheterna och bara det faktum stärkte mig i mitt beslut. Från början var storyn redan klar: En tokig kvinna bor i ett slott med sin nedbrutne make och deras förtryckta son. Modern ligger med sonen i ett försök att få sin efterlängtade dotter (”Pretty Bunny”), men får ännu en son som hon klär i klänning och huva och slänger ner i en brunn. Döm om min förvåning när ett gäng ungdomar strax därefter slår sig ner i ett hus i skogen intill och sedan stöter på lilla ”Pretty Bunny” som precis har flytt ur fångenskapen. Hubba! Handlingen är inget att klaga på egentligen (jag har sett värre!). Den följer inte alltför slaviskt de klassiska slasher- och stalkerfilmerna THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE, FRIDAY THE 13TH och HALLOWEEN. CAMP SLAUGHTER berättar två historier och tyvärr är det inte oväntat den mer intressanta delen om den dysfunktionella och inavlade familjen och dess psykologiska processer som får ge vika alltför tidigt för blod och halshuggningar. Detta var annars något man kunde ha spunnit vidare lite mer på istället för att överfokusera på de tråkiga festerna och låtsasdialogerna mellan de kåta och slaktfärdiga ungdomarna.

”Nu vänder jag mig inte om … nu vänder jag mig om!”

Det märks att det är en lågbudgetfilm. Ofta verkar man ha problem med ljussättningen. Många scener i dagsljus blir antingen helt vita eller gula, vilket vore helt okej om filmen var medvetet impressionistisk. De nattliga, eller mer mörka, scenerna lider av färglöshet och är helt igenom svarta och grå, något som jag inte tyckte var lika illa eftersom filmen får en ganska passande sjaskig dokumentärlook. Gråskalan tycker jag faktiskt förbättrar filmen medan ljussättningen på dagen förvärrar den. En större miss är dock att man inte låter skådisarna tala svenska. Nog för att dessa filmer ska vara kitschiga, men engelskan är väldigt irriterande och löjlig, för att inte tala om huvudpersonernas namn: Håller du inte med om det, ”Fluffy”? Ljudet som helhet är överlag väldigt bra, med läskiga och psykedeliska skrämseleffekter som träffar helt rätt.

Visst känner man pressen från alla filmkritiker att diskvalificera denna film som skrattretande och löjlig. Filmkvaliteten är inte bra (åtminstone inte på bioduken), dialogen är dålig och skådespelarinsatserna knappast lämpade för Oscarsgalan. Specialeffekterna är i alla fall inte så dåliga som man skulle kunna tro och några genuint skrämmande scener går faktist att finna, säkert mycket på grund av den mörka inspelningen. Däremot blir filmen lite tråkig på sina ställen, med för mycket dialog, utdraget festande och marshmallowsätande. Trots det negativa kände jag ett genuint intresse för filmen. Jag kände ett pirr inuti kroppen, en känsla av lust man fick när man var barn och lekte. CAMP SLAUGHTER ser jag i första hand som ett uttryck för skaparglädje och en kärlek för film. Jag ser med glädje hellre dessa så kallade B- och C-filmer med alla sina brister och får en upplevelse än på moderna och perfekta storbudgeterade Hollywoodproduktioner som jag glömmer bort en timme senare. Jag föredrar således filmer med själ.

DVD-premiären är spikad till 5 maj och för dryga 200-lappen får du en dubbeldiskutgåva med extramaterial: videodagbok, featurette, bortklippta scener, outtakes/bloopers, special effects, kommentatorspår, trailers och kortfilmen THE HAUNTING OF CAMP SLAUGHTER.

At Chirstmas The Wicked Have To Be PUNISHED! -- Silent Night, Deadly Night

This must be one of the most basic and/or ultimate "Santa Slayer Movies"... Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984) has finally found a place to call home inside my sparsely spaced DVD-closet; it took a few years of negotiating the terms, but eventually it came to me in the form of a cheap, bare-bones copy from our Swedish joy and pride -- Noble Entertainment. Why not? If there's not any international copy that has much better transfer or extra material, and if doesn't cost anymore than a dime a piece...

Anyway, it's not a great movie; it's not even a good movie throughout. But it's definately a fun and quite violent little piece that, according to the blurb on the back cover, was the cause of moral panic among parents when it came (but what film wasn't back then?!). It's about a little boy who visits his grandfather at an asylum (what parents takes their children to such a place?): The old man (a funny looking bastard) appears to be in a state of total mental oblivion and suddenly both Gramp's son and daughter-in-law take a hike, leaving the two of them alone in the visiting room (my god, that would make even me a good parent...). What follows, in my opinion, is the film's most redeeming quality -- it's a shot where the old fart suddely wakes out of his catatonia (or more likely: the feigned one) and menacingly and traumatizingly begins to describe how Santa Clause really punishes all the kids that have been bad... When they're on the way home, the family is later that night attacked and the parents visciously killed by a robber and murderer all dressed and in you-know-who... ho-ho-hooo! 

The little boy is then raised in an orphanage, with his little brother, where he learns the hard way how the wicked are always found out and punished. The years pass and our little boy grows to be big and handsome young lad (a disturbed, blond nutcase pupped up with steroids, all the same...). When everything appears to have worked out for him; he's gotten a job; he's fallen in love with a beautiful girl... But it's almost Christmas again... And this time he will be Santa! PUNISH!!!

Fast, Furious, Sexy ... And Guilty Fun -- Neil Marshall's DOOMSDAY (and I'm not ashamed of it...)

So, now I've finally seen it -- Neil Marshall's Doomsday (2008). I have heard some quite different opinions about it so, in view of his relatively recent masterpieces Dog Soldiers and Descent (a lot more than decent, in every way ;-), I decided to keep an open mind, not having any high expectations whatsoever. But, lo and behold, how dreadful... Was it a volcano, some religious stuff with my former squeeze Amy Dolenz... or was I just fast forwarding too relentlessly to understand? But wait a minute; where's Marshall's credits? WTF -- this is the wrong movie!

It's plain Doomsday (minus 2012, however further in the future) and non-stop action from the start. I really like the way the English seal off Scotland the same way the old Romans did a couple of thousand years before, in order to keep away the wild tribes of Scots and Picts that used to plague the colony of Britannica. They did it, then, by building Hadrian's Wall (after the current ruler of Rome). So, in the future, they keep away the Scotsmen once again by creating a new, better high-tech wall with guns and surveillance; this time to protect themself from the new, completely lethal virus that started to spread up north with the speed of an avalanche. But there's an uninfected child that gets away and is raised in England where she finally becomes a highly professional, able-minded (as well as able-bodied) police officer, schooled in the arts of arms and combat.

Rhona Mitra plays this nice looking woman who gets the hazardous, top-secret mission to infiltrate the newly discovered survivors off the virus in Scotland in order to find a vaccin for the decease that is beginning to spread among the citizens of London, threatening to turn the complete UK into violent savagery. Bob Hoskins has a good part as Mitras superior, but my favourite actor in this flick is witout question the old Clockwork Orange delinquent, Malcolm McDowell.

As I said, it's non-stop action... and my favourite scene is when the tribe leader's fierce and nasty, punk-ass girlfiend is decapitated and subsequently put beside him in his car during the ultimate Mad Max high-speed chase towards the end of the film (then again, don't forget the sharp-shooting topless lady in the bath tub)... Ok, it's not a masterpiece, but there's a bit more to this film than just a vain and blasphemous attempt from Neil Marshall to further his career and wealth by trying to copy some shots from Mad Max, Escape from New York and other films that seem to have highly inspired him in creating Doomsday. I know many people may hate him for having the great audacity to try and create a new apocalyptical classic in this way, but I cannot help really enjoying this film for what it is -- a highly entertaining film, that is not great, but good; a film that is not a new Dog Soldiers or a new Descent ... but a film well above average in most ways. That's enough for me.

This Year's Mastertons #2

I'll continue doing it because I know I can... Of course I've continued my feat of re-harvesting the work of Graham Masterton, one of the most exciting horror/suspense authors of our time...

Walkers (1989) is the second and last part of the earlier mentioned GM omnibus and though it's quite different from its side-kick Feast/Ritual, it still keeps up the complete intensity and boosts it up little further. Jack Reed accidentally stumbles across an almost forgotten Gothic building, deep in the Michigan woods and immediately wants to buy it and turn it into country club in grand style. The problem is that it used to be a mental assylum for the worst criminally insane. And worse: the inmates suddenly decided to quit the place -- by reciting ancient druid magic that gives them total control of all elements, and thus allowing them to disappear into the walls of the building. There they were trapped by a Catholic priest. However, they kidnap Jack's son and use him as a way of coercing him to finally let them free. But it will take many sacrifices to bring the inmates their ultimate freedom... This is a strange novel with people being able to move into walls and through the earth as if it were only air itself; it is also filled, in usual Masterton style, with some of the most gruesome and painful deaths conceivable. All in all a great novel, not as good as Ritual but still very, very entertaining and unputdownable.   Grade: 9

Mirror (1988): My gosh! This was not the first book (that was Death Dream) but the first and only book by the man I bought in English at the local bookstore. I read it during a few tempestous days while our new appartment was being re-modelled. I got it, as always, due to the outrageously cruel pictures on the covers and dustjacket. What's inside was a strange interpretation of the tale Alice Through The Looking Glass: The Hollywood screenwriter Martin has found a mirror that used to belong to the 30s child star known as Boofuls. The famous, eight-year-old boy was hacked to pieces in front of that mirror by his own grandmother. And now, through that mirror, he comes back and demands that his unfinished musical may finally be finalized. When theatres open all of the world, that musical will bring forth the Devil... There are some great scenes in this great vintage-like story that makes you shudder the next time you look at yourself in the mirror. Not as bloody as really spooky and downright macabre and absurd!   Grade: 9

The Sleepless (1993): This is definately the most strange Masterton book I've ever read. Beside the most brutal and unimaginably tortures and depravities ever put on paper, this novel waves a far-fetched, nonetheless cleverly crafted, intrique weaving together biblical mythology with myths of vampyrism, the divine need for adrenaline and a people that cannot ever sleep... Unfortunately, The Sleepless is a bit too convoluted for my taste and not as "breathtaking" as some other perusings he's entertained us.   Grade: 7

Flesh & Blood (1994): Why this ridiculously embarrassing and underachieving title on such a masterful work? Certainly, it's about flesh and blood... but not in a Z-grade manner, not at the least. This tale undoubtedly brings the reader food for thought as it blends the mytholgy of The Green Traveller, or Janek-the-Green, who is a farmer that according to legend was sacrified and turned into a hybrid of man and tree. This thing has to travell with his few followers to bring the farmers healthy crops -- the only thing you have to do is invite him in ... so he can go to bed with your wife and 36 years later have his reward for the good havests -- the guts and blood of your children and grandchildren... Aside from these horrors, there's the great hog Captain Black that has gotten a brain implant from a child that was brutally murdered by his farther in order to save himself and his children from the Green Traveller. But it doesn't end here: There are the politicians and animal rights activists that are trying to pass a law against using animals in any way, may it be research or food... All these three parts come together magnificently in this story. Perhaps it is the best he's ever written.    Grade: 10

The Year's Mastertons... so far!

The Doorkeepers (2001): This was again a disappointment. As with many Masterton novels it starts out quite qruesomely with a violent act of murder (snuff, anyone?) which it follows up with a definately unique session of torture with a few wires and a harp and finally our famed author sums it all up in a somewhat spectacular way... However, everything else in here is an outrageous bore and the premise of traveling in and out of parallel worlds of time turns into a crippled and aenemic detective-slash-sci/fi story without much inspiration and creativity, on the whole... Sorry Graham... Grade: 4/10

Spirit (1995): Little Sister Ghost tries to protect her older sisters from harms way in the guise of a the Ice Queen... Starts out in a promissing, solemn and tempestuos mood... Alas, it doesn't hold up, really, to Masterton par -- The first chapter(s) of the book is very good indeed, but it eventually turns to dust and snow in the end, how sad... Grade: 5

Death Trance (1986): Arguably a genuine cult favourite among most Graham Masterton aficionados. It takes place both in Tennessee, US and the exotic and mystic Bali ... and in the spirit world of Rangda, the Witch Queen, and her fearsome, demonic acolytes praying on both living and dead souls for sustenance. Mr Randy Clare is a feared and hated rival in the cottonseed industry, and the local competitors hires some roughnecks to finally brake him, which results in the savage rape and butchering of his entire family... A beautiful, horrific and breathtaking tale of love, revenge and sacrifice... Grade: 8

The House That Jack Built (1996): A young and willful lawyer disrespects his taxidriver on the way to an important business meeting, is thrown out and then lured in a trap and literally gets his balls crushed ... With his self-esteem gone with the wind he is then an easy prey for the notorious gambler Jack Belias, who has travelled through time to possess a body and soul... and have his private Valhalla restored to its former grace and glory... A highly psychological, eerie tale of prime Haunted House quality... Grade: 7

Prey (1992): This is Graham Masterton's ultimate tribute to HPL and the Mythos... Basically, it's something like a re-invented "Dreams in the Witch House" with a lot more to it than you could ever imagine. This is much better than any interpretations of Lovecraft, and better than anything the old New Englander could ever have produced himself. This novel is one of my utmost favourites! .... Grade: 10

Ritual, aka. Feast (1989): If you combine basic, ritual cannibalism with Christianity and Christ's Last Supper ... and throw in a restaurant inspector travelling through meals alone with his forgotten son ... you could get this ... A macabre, blood-curdling gore-fest and the most spectacular and original take on the Resurrection that could've ever been written by a human hand... Grade: 10

What Kind of a Bloodsucker is this... NOSFERATU -79

I don't know; I just can't make head or tail of this... Werner Herzog's Nosferatu -- Phantom der Nacht (1979) is a film that leaves me baffled: Why? It's nothing more than a remake of the old Murnau silent Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens (1922), the ultimate vampire classic. A copcat with a twist, I'd say, nothing more. So, why bother? Well, on the other hand, it's a very beautifully filmed enterpretation that apparently has a unique, willful focus on scenery and highly expressive passages -- from the urban waterways to the windy beaches and barren mountains; from bats in slow-motion to the macabre opening sequence with the skulls and mumified corpses. Then we have the famed, unyielding Klaus Kinski portraying the count Dracula in a quite unforgettable and impressive way (I simply adore your coiffure too, kind sir...).


I believe there's both an English and German version of Herzog's adaptation, but I don't know if there's any crucial differences in the shape or form of the film. The version I now own is a copy with a terrible German dub that is quite beyond annoying... So, what can I tell you: If you want to see something different from the old German silent, don't see it; but if you want to see a speaking Max Schreck and simply want to enjoy a highly stylized and beautiful movie, you might as well have a go at this one... but think twice before you make up your mind.

When you thought you saved yourself... END OF THE LINE

After perusing Jacob's Ladder, the evening after I loaded the slot with another wild card -- the apparently quite hyped indie production, End of the Line. The low-down: It's armageddon night and a pack of sect members with their completely awsome, cruciform daggers. They have to kill as many people as possible, in order to save their souls, before the forces of Evil get them. Cock and bull, as always, right? The deranged religious maniacs are defeated and the young couple saving the world from fanatics live happily ever after, or... is it really so...?

The plot mainly takes place underground in a series of breathtaking and viscious hunts through the subway system. Nothing is explained and nobody really knows exactly what's taking place overground. We are left in a nightmarish and absurd black comedy of blood and mutilation; in a film that makes the most of it's obviously tight budget. I admit that it has it's flaws but, on the whole, it's original and exhilarating: The beginning serves us with highly suggestive and mind-curdling moments of madness; and though, the middle stalls a bit, the ending is refreshing giving you a satisfying sense of despondency -- what if it was really true; that you just had to be sacrifised in order to finally be saved?

There Are Things Worse Than Death -- Being Alive! Adrian Lyne's JACOB'S LADDER

It's difficult when you got to see a film ASAP, and at the same time wanting it to be a title you've never seen before -- with a limited source of money you're taking a risk with films you haven't seen, while you still have those "already seen" DVDs still left to buy.

Last Thursday I ordered three new films from Discshop.se. Since they were quite cheap (not sheep!) I figured: "What the hell. If they're bad, you've at least tried..." First one up -- Jacob's Ladder (1990): How strange I haven't been thinking about this one since it was fresh out on VHS rental at the local store, so long ago. I remember considering this Adrian Lyne flick, at the time, but the thought never really got past the "oh, how interesting" section of my maze called brain... and so...

20 years later I just picked it up, along with two others, quite in a hurry because I had to order before 4 pm to have them in my letterbox the next day. Was I going to regret it? No, far from it. Although, not by a longshot being a bloody horror movie, Jacob's Ladder is, essentially, a psychological thriller about a young man (excellently portrayed by a young Tim Robbins) who, after serving in Nam (or has he, really?), has a growing tendency towards ultimately horrifying experiences of altered realities and states where he sees awestriking demons and where he cannot distinguish between dreams and reality. Jacob is a married man with children while, in another part of his mind, he is divorced and having a lustful lover while greaving the death of one of his sons. At a party he has some bad, psychedelic epísodes, and when the friend of his partner tells him he's already dead -- that's when the fever starts, and the demons come closer and closer...

Jacob's Ladder tells us the story of how the human mind, trying to cope with extreme threats to the well-being and survival of the flesh, in the most intricate and fantastic ways could create different kinds of alternate states of being in order to keep itself and its body well away from the finality of utter death. It could also tell us why and when it's time for this defense mechanisms of the psyche to let go; when there's nothing worthwhile to protect anymore. When the suffering is too great and nothing more will be gained from struggling, you have to move on -- in life, as in death.

What Goes Around Comes Around -- Again Reading "The Eyes of the Dragon"

Flagg had been reading from this book -- which was bound in human skin -- for a thousand years and had gotten through only a quarter of it. To read too long of this book, written on the high, distant, Plains of Leng by a madman named Alhazred, was to risk madness.  

And so, finally, I've once again read my first ever Stephen King novel! It was Christmas Eve in the year of 1988 that I got The Eyes of the Dragon (1987), the hardback's Swedish title the exact translation Drakens ögon. In my childhood and early adolescence I wasn't much of a bookworm, though I was considerably thoughtful and quite. Earlier in the 80s my mother became deeply concerned about my only reading comics like Tomahawk and Phantom, while not being interested in those numerous "children and youth book series" (aside from Olov Svedelid's historical adventures, of which I read a lot, though) she always bought me during the summer holidays.

She then found out that our fourth grade teacher used to read to us children from a book by Lloyd Alexander, the first in the pentalogy, Chronicles of Prydain. Before I had been able to complete the rest of the books about Taran and his many adventures my mother hade gotten hold of a very beautiful, illustrated copy of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit which I to this very day have kept accessible in my bookcase. After reading about Bilbo I went on to his the Fellowship of the Ring and its trilogy. After this personal endeavor the interest in literature once again faltered; I was not interested anymore with Alexander's work, nor was I able to continue reading Tolkien; The Silmarillion easily took care of that. But then, one white christmas (or was it?), I looked at a dustjacket with an angry, fire breathing dragon printed on it. This how it all began...

The Eyes of the Dragon is not the usual Stephen King novel. It's not about ordinary people in Castle Rock, Maine having to confront the strange nightmares of reality or the supernatural horrors of hauntings, plagues, monsters, vampires and aliens. This is more of a fairy tale, with the characteristics of SKs witty and mature style of writing. The story (dedicated to his then twelve-year-old daughter, Naomi), while not being childish in any way, is not as frightful and dark as some other of his books: It centers on the struggle between good and bad in the land of Delain where the old king Roland is murdered with dragon sand by the hands of his own wizard Flagg (we do know all about HIM, don't we?) who plans to turn the whole kingdom inte ultimate blood and ruin. He frames the would-be king, the older son Peter, for the murder and puts the younger son, Thomas, on the throne as his throne puppet. Now, nobody can stop the ancient magician from fulfilling his plan... However, imprisoned for life 300 feet above ground in The Needle, Peter has a plan to escape -- it includes his childhood doll's house and thousands of royal napikins...

Though I did not find this book quite as inspiring and exciting as the first time, more than 20 years ago, I still thought it worthwile buying it again, reading it in the original language; since I already rediscovered so many King novels, I believed that I should have a try at this one also. The Eyes of the Dragon is not a perfect piece of art, by any standards, but it is a very good tale of fantasy for adolescents and young adults which is both entertaining and intelligent in its creation. What I loved about it, this time around, was the way I recalled the first time meeting all those certain attributes, so typical of Stephen King, that I had learned so much to love. By the way, all those fine sketches by Palladini from the Swedish hardcover edition were also present in the adequate paperback edition I recently read. Very nice, indeed!

Yes, dim -- that was really the best word for it, although others sometimes came to mind: ghostly, transparent, unobtrusive. Invisibility was out of his reach, but by first eating a pizzle [the penis of a bull]and then reciting a number of spells, it was possible to become dim. 

Along Came The Little Spider And Its Lambs... Il nido del ragno

Professor Alan Whitmore is sent to Budapest in order to investigate the problems with a colleague working on a secret project. There he, quite literally, gets caught in the web of a viscious and ghastly spider god worshipping cult. Does it sound funny-hardy-har-har to you? On the contrary, Il nido del ragno (Spider Labyrinth, 1988) is a very well crafted horror film by a man named Gianfranco Giagni, during the last days of truly worthy Italian film making in many ways.

It's reminiscent of the old masterpieces by the likes of Bava and Argento, particularly in the way it's filmed with colours of red, blue, green and yellow; also the setting in an Eastern European capital provides the viewer with an engaging sense of gothic aura that makes the film even more beguiling. While being relatively artsy in its demeanor, Spider Labyrinth is neither idle, nor anemic: Early on we're confronted with a beautiful, young lady that spellbinds our hero in a notably suggestive and sensuous way; Professor Whitmore is furthermore confronted with a spider-like woman that he has to defeat and kill, for a purpose that is ultimately not known to him. Most of the strange and bizarre "humanoid arachnids" in the story are fearsome to behold, especially the earlier mentioned, red-haired woman with her yellowish fangs, demented countenance, shrieking cries and custom gluey spider-web saliva.

There are at least three scenes in the film that are especially prominent, in my opinion: The first is the murder of a young girl in a hall filled with white sheats, the killing a clear stab toward the Argento-esque; however, more so in the way another character crashes through a large window. The third scene is the pinnacle of the grotesque, a true piece of Grand Guignol madness -- the birth of the Spider God (John Carpenter fashion) from the dried-out husk of a small child's corpse -- its ghoulish special effects leaving Sergio Stivaletti guilty as charged.

Though not being short of violence and gore, the psychological factors of Il nido del ragno noteworthy ingredient: Aside from the mesmerizing young woman, her horrid companions and the story's allusions to the broken minds of Dario Argento, there is Alan Whitmore's horrifying experience of his childhood, being locked in a dark room along with a large, bristly spider -- a nightmarish experience that follows him and serves as a sign of foreboding throughout the film.

It's a bit strange why Spider Labyrinth has not yet seen the light of day in the DVD format. A good transfer from original source material should not be hard to find somewhere out there. The question is where and when to find people that could be interested in buying the copyright for this title that for long so long has been an unforgivingly neglected achievement.

The Orphanage ... No, not the one in Mexico... or Norway... or Sweden...

It is not very often I buy  DVD films at RRP but last time I did it was at the local Hemmakväll store when I got hold of Låt den rätte komma in (Let the Right One In)... This time I ordered Swede Daniel Lehmussaari's The House of Orphans (2009), distributed by Dark Disc's own company Sick Films. I watched it yesterday night and you know what you're going to get and it was exactly got...

Once, in the 1800s, there was an orphanage headed by two respected citizens, a brutish man and a woman with quite a talent for casting spells of black magic. Behind the polished facade the children are brutalized and beaten and even killed by the couple, all in the process of selling them into a life of forced labour and prostitution. However, when the two culprits are exposed they are executed and their orphanage burnt down... but not, of course, until the horrible woman has been able to put a terrible curse on the community.

Then, another house is built upon the ruins of the old orphanage... and more than hundred years later, in present time, a father and his family buy the house -- but there's something evil hidden away in the basement of their new dream house...

Usually with these projects, there are a handful of happy, enthusiastic amateur performers with varying talent in acting and ability speaking the English language. All this is perfectly all right and ultimately more enjoyable than having a professional crew of native speakers or letting the actors speak Swedish while subtitling in English. What makes it a bit of a let down is -- 1) the way the director so blatantly wants the story to take place in The States that he put in a few frames of the New York skyline, right in the middle of our Swedish roadsigns -- and 2) how the film tends to have too much dialogue; the way the characters always speak every scene takes away a great deal of atmosphere and suspense (but I'm certain this film is not the only one of its kind suffering from this...)

On the positive side though, there is the unmistakable feeling of what's always called "the love of the art" (and suchlike comments...), shared with all the actors and crew members. And there is a lot to love in here: It's the usual, dedicated handiwork from the entertaining and spontaneous acting to the crafty, bloodspattering gore and the token cgi-effects. All right, it's not a very good movie by some standards. But it's fun and games in many ways -- trashy, goofy fun! I've seen School Night Massacre (before its fame turned it into Death Academy *lol*), but I believe House of Orphans is the better film of the two. Hence, I would love to buy and see yet another movie from this infamous guy Lehmussaari in the future.

Speaking of  "the love of the art" I cannot refrain from revealing my memories of the very first, genuine Swedish B-movie I ever saw. It was some years ago now and it was in the local theatre I had the pleasure of relishing the one and only Camp Slaughter. For me it's still the best work of this kind of movies that's been made in Sweden; but, then again, I don't have a lot of experience in the field and yet not as many titles under my belt to actually be able to make such a claim... Despite this, I have to be true to myself, so there you are. I even wrote a small review on Camp Slaughter at the old Darkdisc.com site, in the old days... and if I remember correctly I took some liberties in both the personal taste and real facts department. See if I have a copy of that essay hidden away somewhere on the harddrive ;-)