…is for The Raid to get its bad ass out and into a theater where I can see it, stat!
Also, how about Nicolas Winding Refn's Drive on DVD/BD for crying out loud? In this day in age, a four month wait for a home video release is like an eternity, especially for a film of this caliber!
Lastly, I would absolutely love it if Garry Marshall stopped making movies.
Written and directed with at least ten pounds of acid in his system, Jeffrey Mandel's Elves (1989) is a holiday horror film that goes well beyond your typical B-Movie and into a realm where nonsense makes perfect sense.
Elves is a Christmas set monster movie about an "elf" that is released from its three inch grave when a 28-year-old teenager named Kristen and her two friends (collectively dubbed the 'Sisters of Anti-Christmas'?!) partake in some cockamamie séance in the middle of the forbidden woods using her grandfather's forbidden book of magic. Or something along those longwinded lines. Anyway, releasing an elf that, in all likelihood, will go on a B.A. rampage of death and destruction is the least of Kristen's problems.
First of all, Kristen (Julie Austin) has this shitty waitressing job at the mall, where her boss is a complete dick and the mall Santa asks her for a bit of oral just before he's mysteriously murdered by the titular (and singular) creature. So, yeah, work sucks for Kristen. Things don't get much better when it comes to her home life, either. Kristen's little brother is a perv who likes to peep on his sister's "big fucking tits," as he so eloquently (and wonderfully) puts it. Her mom, well, her moms (played by Deanna Lund) is a total full-on bitch in a way that one can only find in a film from the '80s. However, very few bitch mothers were ever so asshole-ish enough to punish their daughters for going out into the woods by taking away all the money in their savings account.
Empty bank accounts and booby obsessed brothers be damned, for they are minute issues in the big scheme of things as Kristen's biggest problem is her very own grandpa. *Spoilers ahead!* A man who is planted firmly in a wheelchair and ever so profusely gargling out the worst and most inconsistent German accent I have ever heard, Kristen's grandfather (Borah Silver) is not only a bad grandfather, he is a bad father, too. That's right, Kristen's grandpa is also her father, but grandpa's moral compass isn't so much defined by his incestuous ways as he did have his reasons for banging his daughter, and that was so Kristen could be born. You see, grandpa is a Nazi who, with his bestest Nazi friends, were planning to use Kristen's womb as a grow room for the master race. To achieve these results, at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve, Kristen must be impregnated, through penetration, by the elf.
You still with me here?
Unlike its "inspiration," Gremlins, which totally delivered on its plural title and, unfortunately, had very little in terms of Nazi incest and monster boning, Elves is somewhat lackluster when it comes to monster-induced terror. The elf itself (isn't a rapper, like myself!) is a complete and total joke, which is fine, mind you, because jokes make me laugh, and I did a lot of that throughout my time spent with Elves.
The creature, in all its one facial expression, foam rubber glory, is super fun time awesome, but there are so many other things about Elves that really make it stand out as a true leader of the (shit) splat. One thing that immediately makes me smile in my mental Elves retrospect is the dialogue. With that said, I shall provide a few lines of said dialogue to entertain you with:
Kirsten's Mom: "You look terrible."
Kirsten: "Yeah, well, I had a rough day at work... Santa got murdered."
*
Some chick's off the cuff poem: "Life is long and life is hard, Kevin's is thick and Dave's is a yard!"
*
Kristen's pervert brother: "Is everything all right?"
Kirsten: "No, Willy. Gramps is a Nazi."
Now, while this magical dialogue is, well, quite magical, some of the best verbal wordplay belongs to the real star of Elves. A man who rains pure gold from his very being; a man who pours out of his celluloid confines and forces his way right into all of our hearts; a man known simply as Dan "The Dragon" Haggerty.
Instead of typing up Hag's brilliant dialogue, word-for-word, I nabbed this YouTube clip and set the code to start at the correct scene, just so you could hear it for yourself, right proper. Trust me when I say it's incredible.
Up until this point, there is no sort of reference to Hags ever being a detective, so this here is a straight up, talking to yourself while in a Santa suit, expositional scene.
Anyway, Haggerty owns the shit out of Elves; when he graces the screen, it is with the poise and the presence of a lion. It's as if the world simply stops to watch him run around, straight tearing shit up in his grey sweater, sleeves loosely rolled up with a continuous trail of Camel brand cigarette smoke following closely behind his flowing golden mane. And really, while talking about Haggerty in this movie (who's character's name is, 'Who Cares'), I have to go over his smoking for a second, because the amount of butts this cat puts down is the stuff cancerous legends are made of.
There is not a moment where Hags isn't seen with a fucking Camel tucked in-between his grotesquely yellowed fingers. Early on in the film, when Hags discovers a dead body and a shootout pops off at the mall, the dude is running around the place, all stealth like and raptorial, but the entire time he's smoking a butt! He even takes the time to finish off the last few drags before he leaps into action, and when I say finish off, I'm talking down to the filter. And if that's not enough, there is a car chase where the camera randomly cuts to the inside of his vehicle as he's driving, and there was a point where I swear he was pushing in the car cigarette lighter. Ten seconds later, while still in the midst of a serious car chase, the camera cuts back to a from behind shot of Haggerty and he is actually lighting up a smoke!
Unless you go the grey market or illegal download route, Elves isn't the easiest film to obtain, but it can be watched on You Tube in parts (which is where the above video is taken from). It's unfortunate that it's not available on Netflix instant (or how about DVD?!), as they often will put up a few rare and hard to find titles for streaming, but alas, no such luck as of yet. Regardless, if you find yourself entertained by the worst of the worst, then I cannot encourage you enough to seek out an evening spent with Elves. Because, quite honestly, nothing says Christmas like incest, Nazis and a heavy dose of the Turkish blend.
When a person is damaged, in one way or another, sometimes the only solace they can find is by partaking in things that might not be reasonable within the bounds of normal human standards and practices. Some resort to drugs and alcohol to feel complete. Others may find that the only way to feel as if they are in control is through domestic abuse or even by partaking in some form of abnormal sexual deviancy. Then there are the select few that can only fulfill their emptiness in the most taboo of ways, by taking the lives of innocent people.
The latter is where Jon falls. Jon is not what you would call a very big fan of women. Well, at least not a big fan of women of the night, that is. You see, Jon spends much of his spare time away from his coffee shop job picking up hookers. But instead of letting them rock his world, he rocks theirs, by taking their world and ending it. While his reasoning for this awful habit is never made clear, Jon often spews out the phrase "filthy whores" (amongst a handful of other descriptives that most women do not enjoy being referred to as) as he ends the lives of these poor women. Therefore, it seems that at some point in his life, Jon was wronged or seriously hurt by a female that was important to him, thus creating an intense hatred for women and, more specifically, prostitutes.
Jon finds his happiness, his solace, in ending the lives of women that represent something very personal and possibly even painful to him. Something that is so deeply seeded that there is nothing that could keep him from continuing his nightly slayings. Nothing except maybe a woman. The right woman.
In walks Delia, an extremely attractive woman who has a certain swagger and charm that Jon has never encountered before. From the second she walks into Jon's coffee shop, Delia steals all of his attention, almost shining a ray of feminine hope that Jon has not seen in a longtime, if ever. Jon witnesses a woman that is unlike any other, unlike any of those filthy whores he is forced to slay on the regular. Delia sees a man in Jon who is genuine, sweet and someone who breaks the mold of what she knows about men, specifically the men who have been in her life. Of course, Delia knows nothing of Jon's murderous hobby, but Delia also has a few secrets of her own.
Much like Jon, Delia carries more baggage than an airplane (yeah, of all jokes I went with that one!). She too is a lost soul of sorts and has many issues to deal with. Like Jon, Delia is damaged, broken from many years of abuse. Delia is in a place where she will do anything to set her life, and the life of one very important family member, on the right track. However, getting there is a difficult road, and the only way she can see to create the right life for herself is to resort to selling her body.
Delia needs to find solace for herself as well as for her younger sister, and the only way she believes she can go about it is by prostituting herself out. However, it goes much deeper than that for Delia as she is a woman (well, more than likely a girl at the time) who was sexually abused by a man. Her solace may come in the form of her domination over her clients, the men she sleeps with for money. She is using them to get what she wants and bosses them around as she sees fit. She is in control, and uses this sense of dominance to fill the emptiness left gaping from a haunted past.
Two different people with two very different ways of coping, coming together and finding solace in one another. But can that solace be broken when one potential partner is a serial killer who enjoys murdering prostitutes while the other is just that, a prostitute?
Directed by Ryan Cummings and Frank Licata and shot in 16 days on a budget just under $20K, All God's Creatures has this certain level of charm about it, and much of that can fall on the well-written lead characters and the actors that portray them. Both Jessica Kaye (who plays Delia) and Josh Folan (who plays Jon and also co-wrote the film with Billy Fox) put out some great performances in this extra low-budget film. Folan is convincingly intense and intimidating as Josh, while Kaye has this indescribable presence about her that I find difficult to pinpoint. Her performance is quite refreshing, and she has this certain thing about her that is completely and utterly charming. She fully embodies the character of Delia, which is very important in a film where a serial killer is swooned by someone he would normally look at as a potential victim.
Despite the film's financial shortcomings, All God's Creatures is a nicely made independent thriller, though, there are a few questionable technical decisions. This would be specific to the handful of strangely handled montages that play throughout the film. The way they are shot and the odd, pop-infused music choices seemed to be quite off kilter from what the movie is going for and is slightly reminiscent of Canadian made, teen focused Lifetime movies. A traditional score or maybe something a little more simplistic with a slight edge would have worked better for certain moments. However, I do believe these montages and the music choices were meant to play more towards the sweet, romantic angle of the film, but they just seemed to be distracting from what is the heart and strength of the movie.
Regardless of those few minor tonal and technical fumbles, All God's Creatures is hinged on the characters, the performances and the idea that there is always someone out there that can help fill those empty voids in our lives. The viewer is put in a position to care and root for both Jon and Delia's relationship, despite their respective dysfunctions, and the fact that the movie is successful in generating sympathy, as well as a desire to see them succeed, says a lot about the success of the film as a whole.
If you fancy a date with a serial killer or, better yet, a nice looking hooker, then you can nab yourself a copy of All God's Creatures by clicking here and going to the official website.
Oh, hey, this blog.
Posting has been more than scarce around these here parts as of late, and while CNAMB fatigue played a small role in things early on, it's now more or less become an issue of time. Not Time magazine, but time as in the thing that you can travel through if you own a car created by a cocaine dealer in the '80s.
Anyway, factors for not having much time are my extensive training in the Martial Arts, raising black bear (does that need an S for plural?), working on my own brand of four-ply toilet paper, and, of course, a whole lot of time spent at work. Guess which one of those sucks the most? So yeah, I've been wicked busy with work, but I've also been totes busy writing about other stuff on another site that is not at all film related, but it's a paying gig that brings in that extra cash for doing something I like to do, even if it is not film related.
With that out of the way, I cannot let another day pass without at least mentioning the fact that it is Death-cember, the month where I focus my reviews and other such nonsense on movies set in the winter/snow/ice/cold and/or the holidays. Clearly my lack of posting has shown how prepared I am for such a joyous occasion, however, I am working on a few things that are sure to stuff your stockings in a way that only I am able to do. You can look at this Death-cember as the year mom and I are too broke to afford all the gifts you wanted (because it went up our nose, just like your tuition), but it's the thought that counts, and the love we share is what matters the most. YAY! Christmas is the best when you have love!
Need some Death-cember in your life? Click on that Creepy golden Santa to the right and read away, while also enjoying posts that aren't formatted properly anymore!
1970's And Soon the Darkness is a British thriller that tells the tale of two young women, Jane and Cathy (played by Pamela Franklin and Michele Dotrice), who are spending their vacation cycling through the rural back roads of France. Both girls are of contrasting personalities with Jane enjoying the sights and experience of taking a bike trip though the stimulating, lush French country side, while Cathy is a little more interested in having traditional 'ho fun' with one of the locals she spots at a café. Later on during their travels, Cathy and Jane end up having a few random run-ins with the man from the café, but no actual interactions occur, but his random presence certainly piques Cathy's interest more than ever.
The two girls take a quick rest off the side of the road and begin discussing their next move. However, when Jane says she wants to continue on with their bike ride, Cathy complains that she's tired and would much rather take a nap and catch a few rays (you know, typical ho fun). The two have a small quarrel about their differing desires, and Jane ends up going to a nearby café for a quick drink while Cathy stays behind so she can do a little sunbathing. After she has a little time to cool off, Jane makes her way back to the spot where she left Cathy. However, when she returns, she finds that Cathy is nowhere to be found; she has simply vanished without a trace.
Now Jane is left all alone in a foreign land, trying to piece together what may have happened to her friend. She is faced with a wicked language barrier and carries a guarded sense of urgency, as she is not exactly sure who she can and cannot trust. Jane later learns from one of the few English-speaking locals that there was a girl murdered in the area years before, which rightfully worries Jane, as the murder victim fits the same description as Cathy. Even more concerning is Paul (Sandor Elès), the mysterious man from the café that Cathy was digging on earlier, who claims to have been an investigator on that murder case. However, Jane cannot determine whether or not she can trust Paul as much of what he has to say, as well as his presence throughout the day, seems to all be a bit too fishy.
Regardless of its title, And Soon the Darkness avoids resorting to the threat of nightfall for creepy atmosphere. Instead, director Robert Fuest generates genuine chills and tension through skillful camerawork, careful pacing and subdued sound design to achieve a sense of dread and unease. And he does so right in broad daylight. Fuest bravely and successfully delivers a handful of tightly wound scenes of pure suspense that occur in the bright shimmering light of the summer's sun, in an area so picturesque that it's hard to believe a murder, or anything of the sort, could ever occur. And it's all tucked into a story that's built on confusion, mistrust and a complete lack of security for our protagonist, which translates directly to the viewer.
All of the acting is tops, specifically the attractive, salmon colored butt-cuts wearing, Pamela Franklin, who plays the role of Jane in a way that is defensive but strong willed. Her expressive face conveys much of what cannot be expressed through language as most of her interactions are with people she is unable to converse with. I would say that the film's only real flaw is in its predicable ending, however, there are a number of clues that would point to the conclusion and eventual reveal of what happened to Cathy. Nevertheless, the film remains unclear enough to where you will question your clue driven prediction at certain points, thus keeping one from ever being 100% sure until the final moments.
And Soon the Darkness is a prime example of what made well-crafted cinema of the 1970s so wonderful. It's patiently paced with a deliberately ambiguous tone that puts the viewer in a position of being just as unsure as Jane about the whereabouts of her friend as well as her own safety. Robert Fuest allows the story to unfold naturally, which helps to mount an uncomfortable feeling that slowly creeps up your spine throughout the picture and up until its eventual finale.
