Madman (1982)

"MADMAN MARZ!" "MADMAN MARZ!" "MADMAN MARZ!" This movie scared the shit out of me and my sister when we were kids. Both of us have vivid memories of scenes from this movie: she recalls Marz's boots on the hardwood floor when he kills his family. I remember the scene, shot from the upstairs window of the house, where Marz is running/shambling away full tilt. It terrified me because he's going out there somewhere (where, you don't know) and you're in the house. Suddenly you're essentially immobile, exposed, and he can move and attack from any direction without being seen. That's the best I can do to describe why it scared me. This scene, the one from Star Wars in which Luke sees the burned bodies of Owen and Peru, the evil (and hungry) tree in Poltergeist, and the beheading of Mrs. Voorhees in Friday the 13th are the four scenes from my childhood that remain burned in my brain. Those other three movies are some damn good company for Madman.

And what is impressive to me is that, some twenty years later, the film holds up and my memory of the scary scenes is actually quite close to reality. But there were some scary parts that I had forgotten. For example, it's pretty frightening when Richie sees Marz silhouetted in the tree. It makes for a damn scary shot and sets the tone for the whole movie because you never really get a good look at him. It's always momentary glimpses, silhouettes, or first-person shots from Marz’s point of view—much like Black Christmas, Friday the 13th, and Alien. Almost every time he's involved in a scene he's shadowy or only momentarily shown: in the background when T.P. leaves to find Richie, in the bushes when T.P.'s looking for Richie, chasing Ellie in the kitchen and dining room, and especially lurking in the background when Betsy's in the house. The last one was particularly well done. The scene where Dippy is killed is also pretty scary. We just see Marz for a flash and then off with Dippy's head! As scary as it is, I have to admit that I see some influence of Kirk's death scene in Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

But since this was an independent slasher flick made in the early 80s, it's going to have its share of problems. And it does. You could argue that the impetus for the entire killing spree is pretty lame. Some jackass kid taunting the legend of a madman? Sounds lame, but it's the general plotline of Candyman about a decade later, so it obviously still had some cachet then. Some of Madman's plot is unsatisfying, though. Camp for gifted students my ass! Richie should have gotten killed, the little bastard. He got everyone into this shit and he gets away with lifelong emotional scarring? Give me a break. It also relies on clichés to create one of the most ridiculous love scenes ever. I mean a hot tub? Think about it for one moment. It's totally unrealistic: making the beast with two backs in a hot tub seems like a great idea, but it's not easy, it requires an oil-based lubricant, it pretty much guarantees no one will want to use the Jacuzzi for a long time, and it's not nearly as much fun as in the movies. Combine the hot tub luvin' with the music and choreographed swimming as some sort of foreplay, and you get one exemplary 1980s love scene.

These are both nit-picky pet peeves, but perhaps the movie's two significant flaws are its acting and Marz's makeup job. As for the first area, the acting is terribly campy—poor dialog poorly delivered and just first-day acting school level performances in general. (For example, Richie wanders around with that Hardy Boys look on his face for the whole film, and Ellie screams a lot but never gets past "open eyes really wide" as an expression of fear). The other significant issue is the special effects/makeup. Since, as I noted earlier, Marz doesn't appear clearly, it's not a pervasive problem, but it does screw up two scenes. The first is when he pulls the axe out of the stump; we can tell by the way the "skin" twists and torques that it's latex makeup or a glove. The more egregious makeup sin is the supposed money shot at the end when the house catches on fire. I haven't seen a worse "scary" guy since…well, since ever.

To be fair, though, these guys were totally new to this experience, and the movie has more than enough good points to outweigh the bad. Like the truck hood beheading scene. It couldn't have been telegraphed any more or looked any faker, but I love when Ellie and either Bill or Dave (can't remember which) can't start the truck and find Stacy's head under the hood…"Well there’s your problem." Ellie, as it should have been, gets killed, but not only does she get axed in the chest by Marz, she also suffers the indignity of Betsy pulling a Dick Cheney and shooting her in the face. Perhaps my all-time favorite thing about this movie is that Betsy gets this I’m-about-to-kick-some-ass-because-I’m-the-pretty- blonde-and-I-can’t-die look, but Giannone, the director, subverts that cliché at the end. It's really too bad that more people aren't aware of this gem. It's not Friday the 13th (even though it admittedly shares a lot of elements with the franchise), and it's a shame that there apparently wasn't enough room for Jason Voorhees and Madman Marz to coexist—even though there was apparently enough room for four or five editions of the inferior Angela Baker (Sleepaway Camp).

Resident Evil (2002)

I should start this review by noting that I loathe Michelle Rodriguez as an actor. I can't believe that someone can build her career on ripping off Private Vasquez from Aliens, but Rodriquez sure as hell has (see: S.W.A.T. and Lost in addition to this movie...and don't even get me started about the piece of shit that was BloodRayne). Why, you may ask would Ripley, also a kick-ass, strong woman, be terrific and Rain not so much. The difference between Weaver playing Ripley and Rodriguez playing Rain is depth of character, which is why Ripley is believable and Rain is flat out annoying. I almost hate this movie solely because of her involvement. If it was enough to push me over the edge and make me stop watching one of the most innovative shows on TV, why wouldn’t it drive me away from Resident Evil? One reason: because I never played a series of Lost video games that had me so completely addicted that my grades starting slipping. That’s why.

So this movie—despite its numerous flaws—gets automatic points with me (sort of like putting your name on the SAT). I can see why some people (particularly people who loved the video game series) enjoy this movie, and I can see why some people (particularly hard-core gamers or horror movie fans) won’t like it. The ones who’ll love it most are non-hardcore gamers who have not seen or don't clearly remember Aliens.

Anderson's writing and direction here is incredibly derivative, and Aliens is just the most obvious example to me. The incursion team and the individual characteristics of its members is directly indebted to Cameron’s picture. Just to tick off a few of the examples: here they're sent by the Umbrella Corporation to check out a profitable facility that's gone offline, just as Aliens' Marines are sent in by The Company (Weyland-Yutani) for the exact same reason; One, the Black taskmaster, is a copy of Sergeant Apone (he was the de facto leader, not the wuss lieutenant); Rodriguez's Rain is, as I noted, Pvt. Vazquez; and Alice is Ripley, taking control after One/Apone dies. All they needed was a cyborg to complete the rip-off.

The hospital scene at the end--which, by the way, illustrates Seinfeld's law of good naked and bad naked--also seems much like the beginning of 28 Days Later, and the fact that they were released within months of each other strongly suggests some sort of influence (like the release of Dante’s Peak and Volcano, or Deep Impact and Armageddon in the same years).

Unfortunately, this movie’s flaws go far past mere hackery. The CGI and special effects are pretty sad for a film with this kind of budget. In fact, the CGI sequence of the Licker in the game Resident Evil 2 actually looks better than the special effects when the Licker kills Spence; it was definitely scarier within the context of the video game than it was within the context of the movie. With the movie, it seems they felt as if they had to hold the audience's hand and make everything really obvious. In Resident Evil 2, the only way you knew that Licker was going to be there was to have played the scene before or looked very closely at the window in a previous room to see the Licker crawl past.

This is not a good thing for a horror movie—to lose out to a video game in scariness and realism. What makes it worse is that the game was produced in like 1999 and the movie in 2004. Of course, the Silent Hill video game was scarier than the movie by far. And the effects in Resident Evil do get worse: the flames on the giant Licker being dragged behind the train by its tongue made use of some truly crap-tastic CGI effects. Know your audience! We are the kinds of dorks who look for and are turned off by things like this. So don't do it.

The thing that bothers me the most is a little detail used to flesh out the logic behind the T-virus program. I’m not usually one to point out plot holes or logical breakdowns in movies because they are horror movies and require some suspension of disbelief. But I have to make an exception here because not only does the Red Queen make reference to hair and fingernails growing after death, but the producer does too in one of the DVD featurettes. I wish they'd done even a modicum of research to find out that this is not true. Five minutes on Google would have told you that. Come on.

I know I am being really hard on this movie, and part of it is because I don't care for any of the actors. I've already hated on Rodriguez. I think Milla Jovovich is a terrible actress (I mean, have you actually seen Ultraviolet?), and she was a main draw for a lot of people and could therefore cover a multitude of sins. The best actor of the bunch, Colin Solomon, gets killed early on with all the members of the incursion team that aren't essential to the narrative arc. Too bad.

I did think there were some good points to this picture—mainly because of my experience with the games. As soon as I saw the Dobermans before the T-virus had been released, I knew there was going to be some shit going down in this joint! And the zombie dogs looked fantastic. Their scene with Alice was not very exciting, but my initial reaction was one of joy when I realized they'd be a part of the movie. Even when they stepped out and their paws made that “click-click” on the floor, I recognized the sound as that of the Licker in the video game Resident Evil 2. The allusions to the video game helped to steer my thinking and expectations—even if those expectations were sometimes disappointed. And then comes the Licker. As soon as it busts out of that metal box, you know it's going to be a problem, but unless you play the games, you have no idea what kind of problem and what it's capable of doing. Likewise with the train. A horror movie buff would know that something might happen, but the expectation of a giant "boss" attacking, and punching through the walls of the car, is something that is only going to come from experience with the game. That is what makes it a richer and more rewarding movie for me (as does the Nemesis reference at the end when they're taking Matt away).

I can completely understand and almost always agree with the negative points made about the movie, but I cannot seem to agree with the final judgment those negative comments support. It's one of those movies that, for all of its blatant and annoying faults, I can watch again and again. It must just be the gamer in me.

Jaws 3-D (1983)

Oh, Dennis Quaid, why did you do this movie? I guess the even bigger question is why did they let you on the set of The Right Stuff after this steaming pile of celluloid?

Let me see if I can explain what’s happening here with a mathematic formula: J - (Spielberg + Dreyfuss + Plot) + (Gosset + Thompson) = J3, where J = numerical value for the cinematic value of the original Jaws and J3 = numerical value for someone taking a dump and using Peter Benchley’s book to wipe their ass. I am immediately suspect of any movie that stars Louis Gosset, Jr. or Lea Thompson. I include Iron Eagle in this category, and I like those 80s action movies. The only picture I can think of offhand that does not fit this paradigm is Red Dawn. (Thompson's in it and it doesn't suck.)

But this movie, this movie does suck. And how! (As Nick Caraway might say were he writing this review...actually, if he were writing this review, he'd probably be wondering what the hell was going on and where the hell he was). I'd rather take my chances with son of the son of the son of Jaws himself than sit through this movie one more time. It's that bad.

The movie's whole premise--with the Sea World-type park and a shark somehow getting there--is absolutely ridiculous. Sometimes this is forgivable, but this is not one of those time. And the shark attacking the gate? I'd rather see the scene from Deep Blue Sea than this one any day of the week and twice on Sunday. Now, I like Deep Blue Sea about as much as one can like the movie, and I know it's not great filmmaking, but Jaws 3-D makes Harlin's flick look like a Godard film.

Let's see, what else about this movie sucked? Oh, I know: apparently, one character in every Jaws movie has to hate or fear the water. I don't think it's a very effective way to build tension by this point in the franchise; when this movie was made, it'd been almost a decade since Jaws had used the character's-afraid-of-the-water-and-damn-if-there-ain't-a-shark-in-it plot/theme. Might be time to let this one go. And speaking of letting go--or not letting go in this case--I have never hoped so fervently that a female's top would not come off as I did during the beach scene with Lea Thompson. Prayers answered. Eyes not gouged out. Lea Thompson deserves to be eaten by a shark in every movie she’s ever done. That’s the truth, and I'll fight anyone who says otherwise.

There's a lot of debate as to which Jaws sequel is worse. I think this movie is inferior to Jaws: The Revenge because it had nothing in common with the two predecessors, had little in the way of plot or character development, and took place at some sort of Sea World knock-off. I hate Sea World...so smug with their jumping marine animals and their fancy wetsuits. The bastards drove Aquarena Springs right out of business. Any amusement-type park at which they filmed Piranha should always and forever be solvent, and their marine antics and splashing broke that universal tenet.

I digress, but I just can't seem to stay on task with this movie. In fact, I think I've already written much more about it than it deserves. This movie is lamer than Barbaro at the Preakness. Or that joke. Really, avoid this movie like anal rape. I hope I never see it again.

Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964)

"Yeeeeeeeeee-ha! Oh, the South's gonna rise again!" This movie is definitely a cult classic, but it's also amazing just how influential it is. First, and perhaps more obviously, the title of the film was the inspiration for the name of the musical group 10,000 Maniacs (the one Natalie Merchant left in order to produce one good album and then destroy everyone's career, including her own). More subtle, however, is the general storyline and theme that seeps into lots of other films. The outsiders-wander-into-a-fucked-up-town or the outsiders-wander-into-a-fucked-up-family-unit narrative arcs show up in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre series and House of 1000 Corpses. The Northerners-as-prey theme is, of course, the basic premise for Deliverance (dah-de-lee-dee-de-dee-de-dee-dum.)

That premise, however, makes for some annoying-as-hell caricatures of Southerners: characters saying "gay-raj" instead of "garage," sprinkling "reckon," "hot doggy" (or even worse "hoo-doggies"), and "Lord-ee" in every other sentence, or constantly laughing maniacally because every sentence is an inside joke. But their caricatures do serve to highlight the underlying fear that small-town Southerners are somehow operating on a different wavelength—one that you as a visitor don't get.

I can certainly identify with this even though I'm from small-town Texas. Just stop off in Hico (especially at the Koffee Kup Kafe), Jasper, or Vidor. Hang around for half an hour and see if you don't feel pretty damn uncomfortable—even if you are from Texas. It's like those people can smell any whiff of big-city or liberalism on anyone. Don't believe me? Try this true story on for size: St. Cloud, FL—where most of this movie was filmed—has (or used to) a Koffee Kup Kafe. No shortage of white sheets in that town, I'm guessing.

But back to the movie. There are, of course, some terrible scenes, as there are going to be in any cult classic or picture done on such a small budget. There's some really, really bad sound editing: at one point when Bea introduces herself to Tom, we hear a really loud echo from the re-voicing work they did after filming, and Harper’s voice completely changes right before he cuts off Bea's finger. And speaking of effects, the movie depicts what has to be the easiest rescue from quicksand ever filmed (even though Harper can’t seem to get out until the action is all over—and then he can struggle out in about ten seconds).

And the thing that has bothered me the most: location scouting. Hire a (new) location scout who knows that there should not be palm trees in a Deep South town. WHY? I know that it was filmed in St. Cloud, which I assume is in the Florida panhandle, but there’s no way the action of the movie takes place there—unless Terry and Tom were driving to Georgia from Havana.

But perhaps it's best not to ask why. Maybe we should focus on some of the scary aspects of the film. On the whole, it's a good, semi-creepy storyline—that the townspeople aren't real but are just ghosts of Civil War-era townsfolk. Very nicely done. But the scariest thing in the whole damn film is the little kids waving Confederate flags or nooses, which is scary because it's a group of cherub-faced boys who are being groomed to hate. That's scarier than the barrel roll, the idea for which is terrifically creepy in its sequencing, design, and ingenuity. You know it's not a good idea to get into that barrel, but I never saw the real danger until they started nailing in those nails; then I figured it out and cringed. So the barrel roll is a good over-arching example for the whole film. Very inventive kills, but nothing particularly scary about it. The pacing of the Ol' Teetering Rock scene is really good (as is the general idea), but the money shot isn't (Ol' TR teeters just a bit too much after it's fallen on Beverly, showing how light and fake it is). And one of the least scary kills is Johnny's. Again, there's not a single thing scary about it, but I'll be damned if I've seen someone drawn and quartered on film before or since (Braveheart doesn't count, because it's a rack). The scene wasn't very long because unfortunately Johnny didn't hold it together very long…get it? Hold it together? [Sigh.]

Hey, that joke is better than some of the humor in this movie, like the obvious, schlocky, and overplayed Southern backwoods stereotypes. But it's not all bad. There's also some really subtle stuff. When they're roasting Bea's arm on a spit, they're singing "Roll in my Sweet Baby's Arms!" If it gets better than that, I haven't seen it. Taken as a whole, I can see where some people won't dig this movie. But I saw this thing when I was a kid, and loved it even then. It's got the fake red blood that I love so much and some really original aspects—something that not a lot of people understand or place in the proper context (this was done in 1964--a decade before Texas Chainsaw Massacre!).

Videodrome (1983)

I knew there was something weird about James Woods: that bastard is a walking, talking Betamax player! But seriously folks, before we get started, I have to tell you something. Hear me now and listen to me later: this movie is weird. It’s not weird like Lair of the White Worm or Motel Hell, but stylized weird. You can wonder—as I did—what Lair of the White Worm, Motel Hell, or Videodrome are about, but only with the latter are you somehow certain that it does mean something. You can bet that if you think you’re missing something in this film, you probably are. In any case, with the previous two flicks, I don’t think there’s anything under the surface to miss. There simply are no deeper levels to interpret.

Videodrome, however, is different. If you read other reviews, you’ll notice that most talk about how prescient this movie was about television, and for once I agree with most of the other reviewers out there. It really is—especially considering the wave of “reality” TV we’ve been inundated with since the Real World started in the mid 90s. But what I liked about this movie was less its overall status as a film or the narrative arc it presented, but the different details and aspects that seem to beg to be analyzed and explored. For instance, there’s a great scene in which Nikki Brand is on the TV seducing Max (also note the Atari joysticks and Betamax cassettes on top of the TV).

What is really interesting is that as the scene progresses, it is no longer Nikki that Max is interacting with; instead, the TV becomes an actual partner in the erotic experience (or is it a cancer-induced hallucination?). Also, the idea that subliminal signals broadcast over TV airwaves intentionally damage the brains of victims/viewers and cause hallucinations is incredibly original—terrific considering it was conceived of in the early 80s when TV was becoming ubiquitous in the American home. The one thing that I find most fascinating is that O’Blivion—Wizard of Oz-like in his glory—exists only on tape now instead of in “real life.” It’s a wonderful example of Baudrillard’s simulacra idea—especially when he feels the need to point out which head he’s talking about (because there is copy upon copy of his head in the form of tape recordings).

Now I admit that the movie can be off-putting because it has a Lynch-like internal logic; the shifting sands and nightmare-like narrative progression are confusing, but I think that’s the point. You have no idea which is The Real and which is a hallucination (or copy)—and neither does Max. The scene in which Max is hallucinating for the Videodrome guy and is whipping Masha-as-a-fleshy-television is also a terrific visual representation of Baudrillard’s theory—which one is the “real” Masha at this point? (Speaking of, that “flesh TV” toward the end of the film freaked me out because it looked like my parents’ Zenith console that I busted my head open on when I was a kid.)

In fact, the only negative that I can think of is the belly-vagina scene. Until Woods stands up, most of the belly-vagina shots—especially when he sticks his hand in it—look pretty realistic, especially for 1983. Then they ruin it by having him stand, and when he does, his right arm is obviously fake (smaller and a different color). There’s no reason he has to stand, so they screwed up the effects of a whole scene for no real reason.