Sleepaway Camp (1983): Death by Inertia

•December 17, 2010 • 1 Comment

How, in my vast exploration of 80’s horror, did I miss Sleepaway Camp (1983) until now? It is so terrible in the best way. Director/writer/producer Robert Hiltzik (wonder how many hits I’ll get off that name) made a career out of killing people sleeping away at camp, and then vanished into obscurity. Rightfully so. But seriously, 5 sequels?!

Synopsis: Shy misfit Angela is bullied at camp, while her tormentors mysteriously die around her. Whaaaaa?

The finest deuce Hiltzik drops in this movie (and there are many) is the manner in which the victims die. Only the truly lazy and stupid would fail to survive this maniac. It is a thing of ridiculous beauty. While I try to keep this site spoiler free (I hate spoilers; I love to be surprised), I cannot convey the inanity of this without discussing the deaths in more detail. Ye hath been warned.

Death 1: Ok, it’s not really a death; merely a severe scalding. (Sidebar: how weird is it that the pedophile is the only one who survives an attack? Not the traditional moral code of a horror movie. Or, to Hiltzik, child molestation comes second to super-bitch bullying) But here’s the scenario: our pedophile/cook is standing on a chair, stirring a giant pot of boiling water. We see a hand reach out and begin to shake the wobbly chair. Our cook grabs ahold of the shelf above the stove, yelling at his tormentor to stop. Eventually, the shelf gives way and the cook pulls the pot of water down on him as he falls. How it could have been avoided: Step down off the fucking chair! Seriously! It’s 2 feet off the floor, and he has a good 45 seconds to react. Even if he were to fall, isn’t that better than pulling a ginormous pot of scalding liquid onto his head? Cause guess what? He fell anyway, and that didn’t seem to be the painful part. Alternatively, when he does fall, he could have just refrained from grabbing on to the one thing that took the situation from a band-aid to an ambulance. Stupidity x 2.

Death 2: Random jock a-hole #4; drowning. Scenario: After romantically dumping his date in the water, RJA is under the canoe. He apparently thinks his date has come back (despite watching her swim far away from his loser ass a mere second before), and is surprised to find the killer under the canoe with him! The killer holds his head under the water. How it could have been avoided: Swim away! For fuck’s sake, you’re in the middle of a lake! Swim down, out from under the canoe, and call for help. He was clearly comfortable in the water, so we can’t assume his loser ass can’t swim, and (extra spoiler) he’s dealing with a KID here. He had to have just complacently stayed under the water until his air ran out; he didn’t even struggle. Lazy.

Death 3: Head jock a-hole, AKA Billy; eaten by bees. No, that is not a typo. He was eaten by bees. Scenario: While going to the bathroom, the killer ingeniously bars Billy’s exit from the stall with a wooden plank and then sneaks a hive of pissed off bees through the torn screen of the window bathroom using a stick (it’s possible the killer studied under Dennis the Menace). Billy frantically fights to get out of the stall, and is finally successful… but it is too late. The bees have already eaten his face. How it could have been avoided: Go under the fucking stall! It’s a public bathroom; heck go OVER the stall! When trying to escape a bathroom stall, I’d wager the least effective method is through the locked and barred door. The Darwin Awards salute Billy.

Death 4: Head bitch, and in the running for the worst camp counsellor ever, Meg; sliced down the back. Scenario: The hussy’s taking a shower to prepare for her age-inappropriate date later, when a knife emerges through the back of the shower and plunges into her back. The killer then drags the knife down, reverse-gutting her. How it could have been avoided: Step forward! I can’t fault Meg too much for the initial stab wound; who expects a knife to suddenly protrude through the wall, through the shower, and into their back? But I would think the first reaction when stabbed in the back is to leap forward, away from the weapon. Especially when the killer starts to cut further – wouldn’t one’s response be to remove themselves from the weapon doing increasingly irreparable damage? She just stands there, no killer in sight, nothing keeping her in place (apart from her own ineptitude), and lets him continue to cut her.

Death 5: Rival and uber-bitch Judy; ?? There’s a pillow and a curling iron involved… but I’m not sure which kills her. Scenario: Judy’s curling her hair before bed (who doesn’t?), when a mysterious figure enters the room. Judy antagonizes the figure until she realizes who it is, and then decides further antagonism is the best course of action. The killer punches her in the head, covers her face with a pillow, and then burns her with a curling iron… although we don’t see where. How it could have been avoided: This one sounds like an almost plausible killing (minus the fact that I have no idea what actually kills her). It’s in the execution that the absurdity becomes clear. Because after she is punched, even though she is not unconscious, Judy puts up no fight. She, much like RJA, lays underneath the pillow (which looks like it is lovingly placed over her face, rather than being held in place to smother her) and waits for sweet, sweet death. When burned, her arms reach cinematically  into the air in pain, but make no effort to remove the pillow or stop the curling iron. Or fight her attacker. Looks good Hiltzik, but narratively, it’s just lame. (p.s. It doesn’t look good either.)

To speak of death 6 would be to risk spoiling the end of this fine film. And the sad part is, the ending is considered one of the most shocking in horror film history (according to IMDB, so… grain of salt). I imagine that had I not known the twist, I would never have guessed it, and it is a startling image.  The problem with the ending is twofold: while shocking, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, and unfortunately, time has not aged the effects well at all. At all. A 3-year-old with photoshop could do a better job now.

But still, it is a fine movie to watch and mock endlessly. Marvel at a time when men thought tiny, tight jean shorts and half tees were the epitome of sexiness! Witness the deaths of the most passive victims in horror history! Wish you could get 84 minutes of your life back, because then you could watch the magic all over again!

I’ve gotta go get started on the sequels.

K.

Posted in Horror
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Topkapi: I hate to admit it . . . . .

•December 10, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Good day all,

I finally worked the handcuffs free from the bedpost and had a chance to give you all my nuggets of wisdom on a little flick called Topkapi. I was a little bummed, initially, as I thought this would be a Japanese comedy and might include people comically running into/falling off of shit (booyah). Imagine my mug when the lady suggested a European, comedic, heist movie. I have to admit I had some Fellini related flashbacks. My assumption was that we would have two hours of attractive, Italian people, completely clothed, discussing a robbery that they never get around to pulling off. I hate to say it, but I was pleasantly surprised by Ilsa’s intended torture. The humour is solid, the performances great and there is a pretty hot, Greek, nymphomaniac running loose; pretty solid ingredients if you’re cooking a stew baby! There is no direct nudity (sorry to get your hopes up fellas), but there is enough suggestive, sexual humour to thrill the eternal twelve year old within. I don’t want to give too much away, because I certainly recommend this one, so I think I will have to drop my analysis into a new matrix: this movie is, essentially, Oceans 11 in Bizarro universe. I’ll explain.

I want you all to picture George Clooney, got him? Now picture him as an attractive Greek woman (Elizabeth) aged somewhere between 27 and 60, obsessed only with banging strangers and stealing jewels. Brad Pitt is a slightly jealous, German or Swiss man (Walter) that looks like Daniel Day Lewis’ friendlier identical cousin (I smell a sitcom). It is ridonkulous how much this dude looks like The Lewis. Next up is a British fellow (Cedric) that looks like the fat kid from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory grew into the middle aged man we expected he would (spherical and, well, spherical). Next up is the Turkish Charles Bronson (Arthur), except he’s British and Bizarro universe Charles Bronson is a bumbling con artist who would probably shoot himself in the face if tendered a shotgun. Next is a German Bodybuilder that looks like Tor Johnson’s stand-in (Hanz) and a mute, Spanish dude (Julio) that looks like the love child of Ben Stiller and a acrobatically trained chimp. As if that mix isn’t enough, the finishing touch is a drunken Greek that I swear to God is Danny DeVito (he’d be the Julia Roberts of this movie). That, my friends, is a mix for success. The entire heist sequence is really cool, and the acrobatics are awesome (chimp Ben Stiller has some moves). The whole Turkish Secret Police thing is great and the ending will punch you right in the dick. Again, watch this movie.

The only complaint I have on this film, hearkening back to La Dolce Vita as well, is that some of my understandings have been challenged. One of the characteristics my lady/captor loves about me is that I view the world in broad generalizations. Often she will say, “yes, you broad view of things is dead on, now let me please you for being so observant” (or something like that). My point is that Europeans are supposed to be more accepting and open-minded about nudity and sex in film. We are desensitized to violence over here and they are desensitized to smut (I mean look at that Berlusconi pimp). Yet here I am, watching European films by “innovative directors” and a cracker can’t even get a boob or two. The woman acknowledges banging, or wanting to bang, every, single, male character in this movie; as casually as John Rambo might discuss breaking a Commie’s neck, except we get to see the neck break. I’m sure it’s because you’re all suave and sophisticated about sex, EUROPE, and I’m just some pervy, Westerner looking to ogle your ladies, but a man has needs. Don’t talk about steak and hand me a Tofu-dog. I apologize for my outburst there, but Europe and I have a bit of a past. Regardless, this is a funny movie with a great heist sequence and lots of sexy talk with no sexy sex. I suggest you watch it and have a thought for your old buddy the hostage watching something worse than this (she usually follows up a beauty with a dumper, just to see me hurt).

Until I come to from the knock-out drugs again,

The Hostage

Posted in Action, Comedy, Foreign
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A New Way to Finance Movies – Use the Fans

•December 10, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I know I’m a bit alarmist at times about this type of thing, but I think studios are the primary problem with movies today (these kids today!). I think too often, decisions are made for financial rather than creative reasons. I know, it’s a business, blah blah blah. But I’m among the people who would rather gargle Draino than sit through a minute of Transformers II. I know the execs are right on what people want; I just think people have been trained to want crap. So I’m supportive of any creator(s) who attempt to finance their work by other means, as Joss Whedon did with Dr. Horrible’s Sing-along-Blog.

As of today, I am a movie financier! Two filmmakers from Sydney are financing their film The Tunnel through fan donations, and then plan to release it as a free torrent. It’s a horror film; another found-footage, but the trailer looks interesting enough. And it only cost one dollar. A small price to pay in the hope of a new voice in horror. Check out the teaser below and if it looks like something you’d be into, consider visiting the site and donating.

http://www.youtube.com/v/A7gB-dPWOAg?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0

Posted in About the site
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Topkapi (1964): Capering About

•December 10, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I ordered Topkapi (1964) on recommendation, and upon receiving it, could not remember what the heck it was supposed to be about. Going by the name, I was convinced it must be Japanese (I think probably because it makes me think of Tampopo). Colour me surprised to find a sprightly heist film from Greece. Directed by Jules Dassin.

Synopsis: A jewel thief and her lover enlist a team of thieves and conspire to steal an emerald dagger from the Topkapi museum in Istanbul. Based on Eric Ambler’s The Light of Day.

What is it about heists that turns despicable, law-breaking criminals into sassy, charming anti-heroes? I wonder this often. I work with offenders and can attest to the general hatred people feel towards criminals. Even in movies, people rarely cheer for the rapist, the bank robber, the murderer, the monster (well… maybe sometimes on that last one; I was certainly wishing that the people in Cloverfield would have the good sense to SHUT UP and get eaten already). And there are always freaks like me who love a damaged, flawed anti-hero. But if the criminal happens to be a debonair cat-burgler, the audience in general is in his/her pocket. I think partly this is because, holy frick – that’s an impenetrable safe surrounded by motion detecting lasers and set to explode if you breathe on it! There seems to be a mutual agreement among both purveyors and consumers of entertainment that to plan a heist is a very difficult feat. I have to wonder how many of these security devices actually exist in real life (“this device measures your thoughts and sounds an alarm if you think money”). But in the film world, it requires patience, dedication, intelligence, and (apparently) charm to plan a caper. And then to successfully pull it off?! It’s a strange scenario in which I believe the audience respects the criminal’s skill, and so can readily accept her/him as a sympathetic figure.

The lovable, rag-tag crew in Topkapi is certainly sympathetic. And very familiar. Please understand, this is not a dig at Topkapi, but rather a testament to its influence on some level. Echos of our contemporary heist conventions are abound. Giulio the Human Fly harkens back to Yen from the Ocean’s Eleven remake. And to think one of the most intense heist flick scenes, the cable descent into the CIA vault from Mission: Impossible, was done 30 years earlier and just as successfully is impressive.

But don’t think that because these conventions are now familiar, Topkapi has nothing to offer. Dassin clearly has an eye for direction and he uses the camera in very interesting ways, including the surreal-esque kaleidoscope beginning sequence. Our initial introduction to Arthur Simon Simpson is a beautifully constructed long-take of Arthur shilling the tourists. Another convention of heist flicks I enjoy is the international flavour that often accompanies the genre. There is a tendency in Hollywood to forget the rest of the world exists (I understand there are financial reasons that are at least partly to blame for this), and I appreciated seeing Greece and Turkey and France and imagining myself there (granted it’s a Greek film, but… shut up). Then, of course, there is the heist itself. It is incredibly tense, largely due to the lack of score; the entire scene is nearly silent, much as one would imagine a real heist would be like.  Don’t be surprised to find you’re holding your breath.

And finally, representing the lady folks, I would like to give a shout-out to Elizabeth Lipp (Melina Mercouri). When I said the characters were familiar, I meant with the exception of Elizabeth. You don’t see women like Elizabeth much in movies, especially not movies of a male-dominated genre like action/heist. Typically in such movies, we women are represented by overly-sexualized play-things who look good working a laser maze (rock it, Zeta-Jones!). Elizabeth is not this woman, nor is she the woman who is afraid of sex. She is sexual, but there is one important distinction between her and what we are used to: she is the ogler, not the oglee. She is the pursuer, an active participant, and not only in sexual encounters but also in planning the heist. It is her brainchild, and she is in control. Yeah, OK. I kind of loved her.

Overall, Topkapi is funny, exciting, and beautiful to look at with an ending I didn’t see coming. And I love to be surprised by movies.

Favourite Scene: der… the heist

Key Quote: “I’m a thief. Promise.”  Runner-up: “Shhhhh, I’m being a lighthouse.”

WTF Moment: the mass orgy of man-on-man oiling before a large group wrestling match. Why is it the most homophobic organizations/groups have the most homoerotic rituals? Elizabeth didn’t mind; she LOVED this part.

Enjoy whatever you’re watching…

K

Posted in Action, Comedy, Foreign
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Hostage’s Pick: Hot to Trot

•December 6, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Good day all,

I have to open with a bit of a disclaimer folks, sometimes I’m a little tough on the old cinephile. Every now and then she comes into the room, looks down with those big blues, gives a bat of the lashes and hands me a double ration of gruel. I always pause, sniffing at the gruel like an uncertain ground squirrel, and then proceed to eat as I cower in the corner. She giggles, and then says “why don’t you pick tonight?” Again, cautiously, I’ll suggest something artsy; the answer I think she’s looking for. Then come those blissful words “seriously, your choice.” Today is one of those days but first, quick PSA at camera 3:

Hello again folks. Today I’d like to talk about Stockholm Syndrome, and how, once a client has been properly broken down through sleep and sense deprivation, the captor can come to be seen as a benevolent parent of sorts. If you ever find yourself in a kidnapping, type situation and your captor turns suddenly kind, be wary. Their either going to kill you or their trying to Stockholm you up. I know my captor is just culturing me up to marry me, but you might not be so lucky. I figured the only offense I had was passive aggression, so I gave her Bob Goldthwait and a talking horse (Booyah!). You might not be so lucky, so if they get friendly you should be willing to risk trying to escape. Real talk.

So, as I was saying, Annie Wilkes on the other page gave me the reins and I aimed low. This is a terrible movie, but it has awesome moments. You might point out “hey, every scene fades to black and they give you a sound effect to let you know a new scene is coming” and I’d say “Hey. Shut up!”  You might say “the most engaging character is a buck-toothed horse channeling John Candy (pour a little on the curb)” and I’d say “yeah, well you suck!” You see this film has to be viewed. You have to watch it through the eyes of a twelve year old boy, a point of view that I have made a responsible, adult decision to not evolve past; just old enough to be crudely dirty without losing that wonderful gift of reveling in the stupid. With those eyes in mind, I give you Hot to Trot.

Five minutes in you meet Dabney Coleman, the evil step-dad. He’s one of those actors so good at being douche-bags they become typecast, like Shooter McGavin or William Atherton, as soon as he pops on screen you love to hate him. Fred inherits a horse and half a stock brokerage from his mom and Douchey McTurd tries to screw him out of it. Goldthwait plays Fred pensive and defeated at first, but ribald and carefree during the high times (strangely both look like screaming and making faces). Fortunately, for Fred, the horse, Don, has the gift of speech ( you see, horses are made in God’s image so he’s like a god-king of horses). Now, some of you would think that a horse picking stocks is ridiculous, but think about the type of information a horse is privy to. It makes perfect sense that Don would have a beat on the business scene, hanging out at barns and tracks an all. Fred rises to the highest heights, the good times seem like butter on a roll and nothing could tear it down. Then, then tragedy hits. A bad pick, a dead father, a brother bravely facing the plight of mental illness, angry words doing the damage they do between emotional horses; think “Terrance and Philip: Behind the Blow.” Logically, the only thing that can save the day is a horse race, and we get some of the funniest track fare since , , ah, , well never (imagine all of A Day at the Races was like the unfortunate “All God’s Chillin'” number).

Goldthwait earns a few, genuine laughs with some absurd speeches and great timing. Virginia Madsen comes in a close second to Satin Belle as the comeliest equine and Lou bravely triumphs over what I can only assume is Three Stooges related PTSD. John Candy is the only part of this film that is really funny for the reasons it’s supposed to be funny, and Don is a pretty awesome horse, but the director and writers held this gem back from its lofty potential, namely the finest cinematic triumph in the history of carbon based life. It really looked like they threw it together over a bucket of blow in about three weeks and beat the deadline by a week and a half. The premise, with the people involved, and it could have been genuinely funny. Instead the ridiculous direction and editing (again, sound effects) ruined the great little gems hidden throughout. This film is terrible, but for all the right reasons. Well, that’s my time (as things have been a little rough since I subjected Ilsa McArtsy to this little gem). Needless to say there have been no kind attempts by her to Stockholm me up since watching Goldthwait utter the words “I think I ate some poo” during the homestretch of the climactic race, in fact she went back to the extension chords and phone books. I claim her frustration as a symbolic victory and prepare myself for her her revenge (five bucks there’s a lot of talking, about feelings).

Until the captor feels benevolent (or I wriggle my hands free),

The Hostage

Posted in Comedy

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