Dios Mio: AntiChrist (Flix of Fear #2)

Alright, two brief notes right up front: 1) This review was started in the beginning of November. I don't even remember why I didn't finish it, but by the time I came back to it, AntiChrist was out of the theaters, so I didn't think it would do anyone much good. Which leads me to...

2) I only dug this out because it gave me an opportunity to (re)start my "Flix of Fear" column, where I highlight stuff you can find on Netflix's incredible "instant watch" program.

Here's what I had to say shortly after leaving the theater:

The last 30 minutes of Lars von Trier's Antichrist is the cinematic equivalent of being punched in the face. I mean that as a compliment.

Even though I rarely watch trailers and avoid film synopses like the plague, you can't turn around on the internet without bumping into an article on how "shocking" this film is. So it's not that I went into the film unprepared. Last week in fact, the proliferation of von Trier's controversy followed me off of the internet and into the real world. I was doing my normal eavesdropping in class when a fellow student began talking about the bizarre theater going experience he had: a woman urinated a few seats over from him. You heard that right, von Trier's climax was supposedly so shocking it could make you pee yourself. Needless to say I made the trip to the theater shortly after hearing that.

I have very little experience with von Trier's work and what I have seen I haven't been too big a fan of (2003's Dogville, for example). I usually have a very low tolerance for self-indulgence, but the film's much talked about slow-motion opening sequence won me over almost immediately. This brings us to the one thing that can be universally agreed on about Antichrist: it is a beautiful film. Shot by frequent Danny Boyle collaborator and Oscar winner Anthony Dod Mantle the film's aesthetic veers wildly from the lush vibrant greens of the forest to gothic foreboding compositions of the same world turned upside down. [...]

That's where the original write-up ended, I was about to start listing the things I didn't like about the film, but instead why don't we skip to my new and improved ending?

The bright side of not blogging about this directly after seeing it is that I've had a chance to digest von Trier's film a bit more. How does it hold up a few months later? While I still can't get the last few sequences out of my head, the flaws are still there. BUT, if a movie can jar me like that, I'm willing to put up with a lot. von Trier makes you put up with a lot though, my original, knee-jerk reaction to the dialogue and pacing of the film was that dreaded and oft-used phrase: over-indulgent. I still partially believe that.

BUT...

Once you get over the hurtles that the film places in your way, you recognize the cojones on display in AntiChrist: two actors, a cinematographer and a (possibly insane) director going full on, unapologetic-ally for broke. Now that, my friends, is worth watching at least once.

I know you have a Netflix subscription: Go watch it.

Bark at the Moon: The Wolfman

Universal Studios has been really sticking it to horror fans over the past few years. They've maligned their greatest cinematic legacy: "The Universal Monsters." First with a mediocre action-oriented retread of The Mummy (that isn't bad as a Summer blockbuster, but is terrible as a successor to the Karloff version) then with the absolute prostitution of it's best properties with the cartoon-ish, soulless monster mash/toy commercial that was Van Helsing. Being as bias as I am towards the original Universal Monsters (probably the VHS tapes that got the most use in my childhood, outside of Jaws) these last few years have seen my patience wear thin. Over the last year or so the internet has been abuzz with stories of trouble on the set of Universal's latest attempt to breath new life into one of their monsters. This time it was Lon Chaney Jr's furry-footed alter ego: 1941's The Wolf Man (my second favorite monster growing up, next to The Creature from the Black Lagoon).

It may come as a shock, and I know I'm going to be in the minority here but... I thought The Wolfman was pretty good.

Now wait a second, I didn't say "great" I said "pretty good." The Wolfman is the kind of remake that really shouldn't get under anyone's skin, as it has very little to do with the original film. With the exception of the character's names and a few in-nods to the original (Lawrence's cane, the old "when the wolfsbane blooms" poem, etc.) this is an in-name-only remake of the classic: different time period, different origin story, different location, and lots and lots more blood and guts.There are some truly eye-rolling moments in Joe Johnston's version of the story (the director took over the project shortly before shooting, after the first director quit due to problems with the studio, never a good sign) but there are also some fairly great parts.

First: the bad news. The script has some clunky dialogue and pacing issues, but The Wolfman's real problems mostly come near the climax of the film. It is during the Wolfman's rampage through London that viewers may get a sinking sense of big budget crapfest deja vu. There is also a climactic showdown (between who and who is a slight spoiler) that is lame with a capital L.

The effects are mostly good which is why the segments that aren't stand out so prominently. There is some shaky CGI (especially when the Wolfman goes from biped to quadruped) and while Rick Baker's makeup is mostly awesome there are a few times that you feel the director is showing us a bit too much of the wolf costumes.

The real strength of The Wolfman lies in the fact that these problems, which would normally be debilitating, never stopped me from enjoying the film. That's in large part due to the inspired casting of Anthony Hopkins and Benicio Del Toro. The rest of the cast is no big shakes (Hugo Weaving seems to be doing his "Agent Smith" with a slight British accent and cooler facial hair) but it's really del Toro and Hopkins' show anyway.

The transposition of the story to Victorian England is a good change merely from a stylistic perspective. The lavish costuming and intricate Gothic locations will probably remind horror fans more of Hammer's lush costume pieces than Universal's original Wolf Man. There is minimal obvious CGI-enhancement (with the exception of the aforementioned London rampage) and all these sets and costumes are lovingly photographed, making The Wolfman one of the more visually interesting big budget commercial films to come along in a while.

Lastly, there's the gore. Oh the gore. I'm by no means a gore hound, I like Fulci just as much as the next guy, but a man can not survive on viscera alone. That said, I think that it's both remarkable and refreshingly ballsy that Universal released The Wolfman with an R-rating. Limbs are hacked, heads severed and innocents are not spared. The horror of Talbolt's moonlight benders are reinforced through intense bloodletting, serving a narrative point in highlighting how even a likable guy like Larry is powerless to the curse.

You can call it rose-tinted glasses, call it the result of lowered expectations, but I don't think you'd be right. I'm pretty sure I sincerely enjoyed The Wolfman and that you might too.


Oh and one more (non-Wolfman related) thing: don't text message during the movie. If your really going to have ten emails to send on your Blackberry, stay home.

Least Convincing Timeshare Infomercial, Ever: Frozen

Writer/Director Adam Green's newest feature is refreshing. It's refreshing a the way that I felt his last theatrically released film Hatchet, was not. Hatchet carried a lot of internet support behind it, support that was palpable almost a full year before the film's limited theatrical released. When I finally got to see Hatchet (a few years ago in the same exact theater that I saw Frozen this Friday) I couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. It had some wonderful cameos, a few inventive kills, showed a real reverence for slasher history and was obviously the work of someone who was a true fan, but for me it just could not live up to the weight put on it by the community. Maybe it caught me on a bad day, people still seem to love it, but enough about the past, let's talk about the present...

Three college kids trapped on a ski lift. They're stuck up there until the mountain re-opens in a week, they have to get down or they'll freeze to death.

The claustrophobia and simplicity of Frozen's central conceit has many critics comparing it to Open Water (2003). I don't like that comparison because Frozen is a film where things happen, at times very terrifying things. Green shows a great amount of bravery in tackling a subject that could turn very boring, very quickly and demonstrates some serious skill making sure it doesn't.

The online video advertisements they're playing on many genre websites (which I was mostly successful in ignoring before taking a trip to the theater on Friday) are really a bummer, they show way too many of the film's coolest images. Take my word for it Frozen is a movie you should not watch a trailer for. Green does a good job making us care about the characters (even though in the first act, they can kind of come off as toolbags) by making them approach their problem in a very realistic way. He also fleshes out their back stories and relationships just enough that we can relate to them, but not enough to bore us. Like myself, I'm sure that many of my horror geek brethren will find it easiest to identify with Joe, played by Shawn Ashmore, the third wheel and gym class flunky of the group who must conjure some unexpected heroism. Joe's name is a nod to director and Green's buddy Joe Lynch who made the awesome Wrong Turn 2 my review here. The film is chock full of tiny references and cameos (a number of Hatchet cast members make an appearance) like this that never get too distracting.

Making the minimalist concept exciting does come at a price though. Frozen sadly has its fair share of eye-rolling moments, and though none of them ruin the film, they do keep "classic" status way out of arm's reach. Talking about these parts enters spoiler territory but I will say that there is the appearance of an unexpected advisory for the kids that may give some viewers the chills, but whose appearance may not be so easily swallowed by others.

It's not perfect, but as I said in the beginning: Frozen is a breath of fresh air. Especially if you see it with a live audience. It's such a treat to see a literate, well-made and (most importantly) scary horror film in a theater. This is very much one of those "vote with your dollars"-type situations. Instead of whining about a lack of originality and quality in contemporary horror films, get yourself to a theater (if there's one in driving distance) and see Frozen. Both you and the internet-ers that have to read your boring re-heated rants about the 7th Saw sequel and needless remakes (newsflash: nobody likes 'em, you're preaching to the choir), will be glad you did.

Tying the premise of a horror film to a recreational activity is going to bring the Jaws comparisons. I'm not sure Frozen will keep me away from the slopes (I don't go often, but I'm glad I got my most recent trip out of the way a few weeks ago) but it will definitely add an extra bit of stomach acid to future ski lift rides.

"What's your favorite movie?"

If you're a film major you get this question a lot. You get it at parties, in classes, on the subway, in taxis, at urinals. You get it every time you tell someone what you study. You don't have to be a film major to appreciate the quandary here. Anyone who loves movies knows what a trick/impossible question this is.

I love movies: plural. To choose one raises so many questions, to choose one makes me immediately think of 5 others that I "love more." I was just asked by one of my girlfriend's friends "what's your favorite movie?" I answered but in a way, I lied. I said that it was a tie. I gave her two of my "stock" answers, two films that have enough name recognition and that I love enough to rank as my hypothetical favorites. As soon as I answered my girlfriend, always the contrarian troublemaker, says : "that's not what you said last time."

I chuckled and changed the subject, but it got me thinking. I've always disliked getting this question, but I've never fully articulated to myself why. I've tried to pick a favorite, but it's impossible. I could probably narrow it down to twenty or so, but ranking those top twenty would be impossible. The list would be a patchwork of different genres, time periods, languages and tones. All the films make me feel great, that's all there is to it.

You ask "well, what were those two 'stock 'answers? Where is that hypothetical twenty?" I'm not going to give you the twenty, I'll give you the two stock answers plus three more from the list, then I'll tell you another secret.

"Either Taxi Driver or Midnight Cowboy," that was my answer to the girl's question. In fact, it is my go to answer most of the time. Some days, if I'm feeling especially mentally spry or have been talking to a person about a specific genre of films (Westerns, Horror, etc.) I could very well answer something completely different. It was not a lie, per se, Tax Driver and Midnight Cowboy are my favorite movies. Just not all of them.

I will now give you those five, and a (all too) brief rundown of why each one is special to me. These are all perfect films in my eyes, so order doesn't matter, neither do exceptions.

Taxi Driver (1976), as it probably is for many young cinephiles of my generation (I'm not inferring that my list is wholly original or unique, it is simply mine), is not the film that made me love cinema, but the one that made me long to be a part of it.

It is the film that mathematically, undeniably proves the well-worn film school cliche that "film is a collaborative medium." Taxi Driver is and isn't Martin Scorsese's film. The young master is integral to the film's greatness but no more or less so than Paul Schrader's incredible script (his first unless you count his collaboration on the Sidney Pollack film Yakuza, which is awesome but would not be on any favorites list of mine), Bernard Herrmann's score or Robert De Niro's performance.

I think the reason I list this film first, when asked, is its ending. The faux "happy ending" to Travis's story is possibly the most disturbing and realistic part of this already dark and realistic film.

Further viewing: I'm sure you've seen Taxi Driver, but Schrader is also an amazing filmmaker in his own right you may not have seen his biopic/dark comedy Auto Focus (2002), another favorite. If you want more De Niro/Scorsese genius, sit down with The King of Comedy (1982).

Probably the most emotionally manipulative movie on the list, but not in a bad way because it is also the one most likely to move you to tears. Lots of people are familiar with Harry Nilsson's theme from the film ("Everybody's Talkin'") and know the trivia bit that it was the first X rated movie to win best picture, but it seems that less and less people have actually seen John Schlesinger's 1969 film.

For example, my sophomore year, after one of my first few film classes, I was talking to a handful of my classmates. The deadly, aforementioned question came up. Not a single one had seen Midnight Cowboy. It's not their fault, but that just kind of bummed me out. It is a film that deserves and requires at least one viewing. If you are one of the unfamiliar: you don't have to like it, and I have a feeling that many won't, but you should at least give it a shot.

Further viewing: If Ratso and Joe Buck have you all cried out, relax with one of the best thrillers ever made: Marathon Man (1976) which reunites Dustin Hoffman and Schlesinger.

Say, for instance, that you were a detective, charged with figuring out my "favorite" movie by clues left in my room. Get Carter (1971) would be your first guess because of the not one, but two large, prominently placed posters hanging on my wall (one is the one pictured above and the other is a poster sized blow up of a black & white production still, Carter putting a woman into the trunk of her own car after dragging her out of her tub, not as misogynist as it sounds).

I was never much for the genre of "gangster" films. I like them alright but I certainly don't prescribe to the college male "broski" aesthetic of plastering your wall with quotes from De Palma's Scarface (a fine movie, but one that I believe works best as a semi-parody of the genre). That's why I would define Get Carter as a revenge film, the person getting the revenge just happens to be a gangster.

Endlessly quotable, unbelievably scuzzy, and with one of my favorite scenes of all time (Carter finds a major clue to the puzzle to why his brother was murdered by watching a homemade pornographic loop, which we see reflected in the mirror behind him, nicely framed and Michael Caine's performance is devastating) Get Carter is a film you will really like or absolutely despise.

Further viewing: Ever wish you could combine your love for mediocre horror movies and Michael Caine? Then Oliver Stone's dirty little secret The Hand (1981) is for you, it may not be great, but what it lacks in quality it makes up for in certifiable insanity (not a favorite, for those keeping score). Want to see the softer side of Caine instead? He also stars in one of the best sex comedies from the 80s, Blame it on Rio (1984).

Here's the most recent movie on the list, a sprawling semi-biographical epic about the porn industry in the 70s and 80s that is also a gifted filmmaker's meditation on movies in general. Putting aside the marvelous soundtrack, the unbelievable cast (proof that Mark Wahlberg can act, despite what he tried to tell you with The Happening), and the strong sexual content (which may be outputting to some, pffft) and you still have an expertly constructed film.

A strange film in that it is both nostalgic and brutal. We are presented with characters that we identify with and like but we also see them in situations that we can't immediately identify with (nor would we want to) and watch as some decisions turn tragic. By the end you mourn for the loss of Jack Horner's (Burt Reynolds) theater-based livelihood, you curse VHS and then you stop, think about it for a second and realize that even the "good old days" weren't so great.

Further viewing: Just so you don't think I only like films that are over thirty years old, here are some more favorites from the last few years. No Country for Old Men (2007) I think the Coen's are the best American filmmakers working today, this is quite possibly their masterpiece. J.S.A (2000) Korean director Park Chan Wook's most restrained work is also one of my favorites. Up (2009) I've yet to see Moon or A Serious Man and I do love The Hurt Locker, but I think that if I had to "gun to my head"-it Pixar's latest effort is my favorite film of the year.

If this is a horror blog, then where are the horror movies? I'm getting there, pipe down.

In the end of George Romero's Night of the Living Dead (1968), he inadvertently (Romero has sworn up and down that this was never directly this intention) made one of the most incendiary social critiques in horror by having his black protagonist...well you know (I still can't bring myself to spoil the ends of movies, but if you haven't seen NOTLD and are reading this blog, there really is no hope for you).

In his 1978 follow-up he turns up the social criticism knob to 11, has Tom Savini ride into town in an oil tanker full of blood, shoots in technicolor that makes the Emerald City look like Newark, has his buddy Dario Argento lend a hand with the music and creates the ultimate zombie movie in the process, hands down.

I recently read a discussion online (some forum or twitter or blog, I really don't remember) where a bit of a backlash against this film flared up. Everyone's entitled to their opinion, but comon fellas, are you nuts?

Some complain that it's dated, but as someone in my early 20s I think I'm allowed to poo-poo that without running up against the "what do you know? Old man" argument that us kids are so fond of.

Further viewing: well, in my opinion, there's really only one other horror movie that can give Dawn of the Dead a run for it's money and that's The Exorcist (1973). Generic, I know, but they really are my two top spots (until I think of another 20).

There you are. There are the five I promised (plus some bonuses). Debate amongst yourselves.

What's that?

What's the secret I was babbling about?

Well, in two years I'll look at this list, still love the movies on it, but probably construct an entirely new one. That's one of the wonders of cinema and the joys of loving it.

[Insert Health Care Crisis Pun Here]: Doctor Death

1973's Doctor Death: Seeker of Souls is the text book definition of 70s cheese. Although the film is directed and produced by Eddie Saeta, nevermind the auteur theory because it is star John Considine who owns this film. Considine plays the titular Doctor,a mystic who uses his “secret formula” to transfer the souls of the dead into the bodies of the recently deceased. Although he's been using this method to stay alive for hundreds of years he also rents out his talents to the highest bidder.

Enter our protagonist: Fred, who, to put it lightly, is a bit of a goober. His wife has recently died and he'll do anything to get her back. He contracts the good Doctor to revive his wife's body (easily glossing over the morality involved). When the procedure doesn't “take” and Fred's wife remains dead, the Doc (ever the over-achiever) goes on a violent killing spree trying to find the right soul for the body of Fred's wife.

Considine (who reveals in the commentary that he studied acting under Lee Strasberg) plays Dr. Death with pomp and enthusiasm. Turning the Doc (who has some incredibly over-written dialogue) into an odd mixture of talk show host, carnival barker and Las Vegas magician. He may not give an Oscar worthy turn, but he transforms ho-hum dialogue into pure entertainment which is quite an achievement.

Doctor Death is such a hard movie to discuss without sounding like I'm over selling it. It's a film for a very specific type of person. In many ways it's a wonderful film, it's purposefully over-the-top without being overly winking, has a great villain, a cameo from Moe Howard (of Three Stooges fame) and some really gonzo kills (at one point Dr. Death shoots black acid blood out of a wound in his stomach and MELTS HIS ATTACKER'S FACE). On the other hand, it has an abundance of wooden dialogue, heroes that you don't give a crap about, and tends to drag when Considine isn't on screen.

The film was just recently released on DVD by Scorpion Releasing (I scooped it up as a birthday present from me to me) and I believe that they are somewhat newcomers to the cult DVD market. If this release is any indication, they know their stuff. The disc comes with a nice transfer (the gaudy colors of the Doctor's flamboyant costumes really pop), two ten minute interviews (one with Considine and the other with Saeta's son) and a commentary with Considine (where he talks about his impressive career and expands on some of the ideas touched on in the interview).

Nice Place to Visit But You Wouldn't Want to Live There: City Infernal By Edward Lee

I've read tragically little of Edward Lee's work. A smattering of short stories, his novella The Cyesolagniac and his segment of Triage (which is a collection of three novellas by Lee, Jack Ketchum and Richard Laymon). Everything I've read, I have enjoyed.

Then why have I been into horror for so long and mostly shied away from one of today's big authors? I don't have a good answer for you. It's probably not his reputation for writing "extreme horror," as Laymon and Ketchum are pretty extreme and are regular staples in my literary diet. Whatever the explanation I planed on rectifying the problem when I bought City Infernal.

City Infernal is the first book of Lee's popular "Infernal Mythos." I like to know very little about books before I dive in (you've seen how neurotic about spoilers I can get), but because Lee is known in the horror community for his stomach-churning gore (everything I had read prior to this confirms this) I figured that I was in for a sick, if a bit guilty, pleasure. In truth what I got was something much stranger and, in my opinion, much more interesting. Lee's book is less Takashi Miike's Ichi the Killer and more Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials.

You read that right. I compared Lee's ultra-violent trip through hell to a children's book. I do so favorably.

Like The Golden Compass (or similar, lesser books) Lee builds a world that is both strange, but familiar. It is a setting that is clearly fantasy but still very much reflective of the place we live. Also, like Pullman's novel, the parallels between Mephistopolis (Lee's Hell) and our current society are not always in the most flattering.

The plot concerns Cassie, a young woman who finds herself in Hell, literally, after moving into her new house and making some new (dead) friends. Not only that but hell isn't all fire and brimstone, it's a thriving city that runs on despair an carnage. Cassie decides to plunge deeper into the metropolis to find her twin sister, who died of a suicide. But wait, there's more, because Cassie is a mortal in Hell she has crazy mystical powers that would give Satan the ability to manifest on Earth, thus she becomes a target of his demonic constabulary. It's not as exhausting as it sounds.

I really love the way everything about Lee's version of Hell "adds up." There is a clever and nicely explained piece of exposition for almost every economic, political and social facet of Hell. It's an odd novel in that the explanatory passages are the most interesting. The wildlife and social strata of Hell is captivating and disgusting. Lee masterfully mixes the thoughtful with the repugnant.

No book is without its minor faults and Lee's is no exception. The biggest problem I found is somewhat symptomatic of the fantasy genre itself, so Lee can't much be blamed. There are a number of times where Cassie and friends are helped out of a bind by some archane hell magic that the reader (and Cassie) has not been previously introduced to. These moments all feel a bit too deus ex machina, but are not really that distracting and like I said, are native to this kind of story telling.

City Infernal has been optioned for film in the past, I don't know if it still is. Any filmic translation, however unlikely, would have to be big budget and thus way toned-down, but I can't help feeling that in the right hands (Guillermo del Toro?) City Infernal would make a really fun movie.

City Infernal is a brisk read and should have cross genre appeal, anyone who wants some horror in their fantasy or fantasy in their horror should pick up a copy (some of you probably already have, seeing how it was first published a decade ago: I'm way late to the party, as usual). I have already purchased the next part of the series on Kindle and I am very interested to see what else Lee has in store.


On a bit of a negative final note: What a fugly cover. Leisure: I love the books you put out, you make horror affordable and give great authors massive exposure, but why the covers? They're tacky without being the awesome kind of tacky. They were never high art, but paperbacks used to have some pretty cool covers.

Crossbows, Coffee and Cigarettes: Daybreakers

Michael and Peter Spierig (henceforth the Spierig Brothers) made quite a splash in the horror community with their 2003 low-budget zombie flick Undead. Unlike the majority of horror fans I didn't really like Undead. I thought it was a well made, but entirely too derivative film. It had all the hallmarks of early Peter Jackson and Raimi's Evil Dead films, but it was never going to replace those classics because it lacked most of the charm that came with revisiting films like Braindead.

I did, however, think that Undead made a bit of a promise, a premonition of good things to come. If the Spierig brothers could harness their obvious talent, were afforded a bit more cash (okay...a lot more cash), and the professionalism that accompanied said cash: they could make a GREAT genre film.

It's been a few years but Daybreakers fulfills that promise.

In a near future, where vampirism has spread like a plague, turning most of the world's population. Humanity is on the ropes, and the vampires ain't doing much better. Without a blood substitute they're beginning to starve and regress into dangerous monsters (the makeups for which look a ton like the "bat" Dracula from Francis Ford Coppola's version). Ethan Hawke (who's a dynamite stage actor and has done some great work recently, but never in horror pictures) plays the chief scientist leading the team trying to crack the code and invent Tru Blood for his evil capitalist pig boss (Sam Neil). It gets more complex from there, but I won't spoil it, the twists are part of the fun.

The abundance of set-pieces and relatively low scare-factor is more akin to a traditional scifi/action film, but rest assured this puppy blows away the lackluster Underworld films (a series whose aesthetic the ad-men behind Daybreakers are trying to ape in its advertising material). The plot suffers some minor pacing hiccups and the dialogue isn't always as sharp as it could have been (Willem Dafoe's character, in particular, seems like a missed opportunity) but it is the quality craftsmanship of the world-building and the brothers' visual inventiveness that keep these problems so small that they barely register once the credits roll. Likewise the allegory at work ("Blood for oil!" is now: "Blood for Blood!") is mostly heavy handed, but delivered in a way so plausible (once you swallow the main, silly conceit) that it works beautifully.

Smart without being pompous, goofy without having to wink at itself every time it passes a mirror, and with a cast that most A-list "mainstream" films would be envious of: Daybreakers is a literate and fun breath of fresh air.

Soul Draining, but in a good way: Feast by R. Scott McCoy

R. Scott McCoy's Feast has been compared to a superhero story akin to Darkman or Spawn. Rightfully so, but these comparisons only do McCoy's novel a disservice. Nick Ambrose, Feast's superhero in-training, ditches the over-the-top splat-shtick of Sam Raimi's titular hero but at the same time never delves into the mid-90s uber-melancholy of Todd McFarland's red-caped meal ticket. If you have no idea what the comparisons were I just made, you obviously didn't watch movies or read comic books in the 90s.

Feast concerns Nick, a police officer who acquires superpowers while tracking down a deranged (and supernatural) killer with his brother,Pete. His main power is that he can look into souls and see how clean their karmic aura is, he also gains super strength, healing, and no longer needs to sleep. The catch being that he has to periodically feed on the lifeforce of others to stay alive. It is this moral quandary (plus the fact that Nick has some new residents in his noggin) that form the crux of Feast.

Why Feast works so well is that Nick's world has a certain "heightened reality" about it (there are blood thirsty serial killers and mob bosses around every corner), but Nick remains a very realistic character. He's very human, he makes mistakes, enjoys Chinese food, is a dope around women and sometimes lets his new-found urges get the better of him. His moral compass is always pointed in generally the right direction, though, which makes watching him grapple with some frightening obstacles all the more compelling.

Feast suffers the same problem that is endemic to all origin stories: you get all the characters put in place, lay the ground rules of their powers, have them embark on their first "mission" in the third act and then you have to leave the reader thirsty for further adventures.

Feast is great, McCoy's style is direct, fast paced, and sometimes just a hint humorous. Nick is a character I actually care about. I can't wait to see what the future holds for him. Hopefully the wait won't be too long. Highly recommended.

*For those of you who think I'm just kissing ass because McCoy runs Necrotic Tissue: Ha! He isn't even the head editor for this upcoming issue.

Serves you right. Jerks.

Good Dog: Cujo on both page and screen

Before this week, I had never read Stephen King's Cujo nor seen the 1983 film adaptation. Now I've done both. It's against my nature and I will not reveal the ending to either the book or the adaptation, but for this writeup will contain minor spoilers. You other late comers have been warned. (Gimme a break I know it's thirty years old.)


Now, don't let the fact that I've never read Cujo before shake your faith in me. I've read plenty of King, both the classics and his newer stuff. I've loved some of them and I've not-so-loved some of them. The first school project I can remember doing was on the man (it was for a third grade project where we had to read a biography and then make a book report in the shape of a wire hanger mobile) and my first 'real' term paper (boy, was I wrong in thinking that rinky-dink thing in high school was a term paper). If I were asked as a senior in high school what my favorite King Novel was, I would have said: The Stand. Hands down. In fact, in high school, I probably would have answered The Stand if you asked me what my favorite book was. Period. I still love it, but these days maybe the cornucopia of allegory is a little too much for me.

Enter King's 1981 novel Cujo. King claims in On Writing, which is great, that there are one or two novels that he can't remember writing at all due to drugs and alcohol. If Cujo is the result of drug abuse: where do I sign up for my flour sack full of coke? Yes it's a sick joke, but you get the point.

Cujo is dark bordering on nihilist (I say bordering, not nihilist). It's the kind of book that has you tied in knots over what's going to happen and has you cursing the author when it finally does. It is bloody and grimy. The character list is long and they are all fully fleshed out. The most remarkable thing for me about Cujo is its structure. There are no chapter stops, only scene breaks where the story switched perspectives. We see inside each characters head, are privy to their decision making processes and the way they feel about others, then just like that we are whisked to a different character. Cujo is not a short book, but the lack of chapters makes it a breathless one. It isn't exactly a book you can't put down, but a book you feel rotten about having to put down. There is just no "good" place to stop. It's as claustrophobic as a blue Ford Pinto on a sunny day ( I can't resist sometimes).

I won't say that Cujo is my favorite King work, but I will say it is my favorite King work for this time in my life. (for example, I can see early high school me really digging a few of the Bachman books, The Long Walk especially).

I don't mean to sound hyperbolic and gushy, it's just true. Our tastes and attitudes are constantly in flux. Outside of its brilliant structure and crisp prose ( beyond the cliche of "crisp" I would also describe it as possessing that great "late-early period" restraint that King never quite uses now) there is something about the darkness and frustrating honesty of this novel that appeals to me on an almost primitive level. Maybe one day when I have a wife and kids, my favorite King novel will change again to suit the times. Maybe it will be Cell... Got ya!

If the novel isn't really 'about' a killer dog, it's not, then what is it about? Well (says pretentious professor Adam), it's about the way people reason and make decisions. How sometimes even when those decisions are the most natural and level-headed they can still result in absolute disaster when life throws a monkey wrench into the equation and goes veering impossibly off-script. It may sound like a mouthful, but I think this idea of chaos is the very core of the novel.

So the movie must be about the same thing right? Wrong, silly, the movie is about a killer dog.

On the special features for the recent 25th anniversary re-issue of the film director Lewis Teague says that the initial script from the film had been penned by King himself, but was rewritten because it "strayed too far from the book." D'oh. What I wouldn't give to see that version of the film.

Cujo isn't a bad film at all. It has first rate cinematography, great production value and effects and one of the most believably frightened child actor ever put on screen(what the hell did they do to that kid?). The script is serviceable and is faithful almost in its entirety. The broad themes from the novel all make at least a small appearance: Donna's fear of losing her spark, Vic's pressure at work, the remarkable abilities for a child's subconscious to attune itself to the problems around him, and the idea that one shouldn't "sweat the small stuff" because you never know when reality might turn and bite your face off.

The problem is that all these themes are so watered down in the film. In actuality this is probably a good thing, there is no easy way to cue an audience in on every thought that enters a character's mind. To translate that whole idea of "decision making" i rambled about a few paragraphs ago, Teague would have had to use narration. Which would make the film unwatchable in its obviousness and corniness. The end result is that the film is probably the best direct adaptation of the book that can possibly have been made.

Maybe in some far-flung future, when there are no more copies of the book in print, the film will be a worthy piece of art to be analyzed without the stigma of the novel. As it stands now it is only an interesting way to open up discussion of the novel, a well made genre film with a modest budget, some neat dog tricks, and a great performance by one of horror's perennial matriarchs: Dee Wallace.

It's no substitute for the book: but what film is? It's a fun monster movie with all the schmaltzy parts and fake-out scares you've come to expect from passable Stephen King adaptations. Hey, it's a helluva lot better than that miniseries they made of The Stand.*


*I've heard some people actually like that thing. Other than the cast, why? I'm not being a jerk, I genuinely want someone to explain what I'm missing.