The House of Irony / Horror

I have a feeling that, despite the mind-boggling ultimateness of a battle between Komodo Dragon and Cobra, nothing can beat the fury of the original ultimate battle : Busey vs. Werewolf.

A few years back, the only thing I wanted for Christmas was a copy of Boa vs. Python. Who would win?!? Boa? Or Python?

I did not receive Boa vs. Python. Everyone thought I was joking. Now you know better.

Komodo vs. Cobra! The Ultimate Battle! Christmas 2007!

This review of Visiting Hours is a part of the second Final Girl Film Club. Check back for the third selection and join the gang.

I watched Visiting Hours with the lowest possible expectations, and it didn’t even meet those. This is perhaps the ultimate cocktease of a horror movie; a slasher film without any real urgency or suspense.

Deborah Ballin is a television reporter dedicated to advancing the rights of women to defend themselves against abusive partners, by any means necessary. Or she’s against violence in all forms. If the filmmakers themselves don’t know, I can’t see how I’m supposed to. A misogynist stalker by the name of Colt targets Deborah for her beliefs, along the way getting distracted by and killing anyone else he stumbles upon, including men. Again, if the filmmakers themselves don’t know… After surviving her first encounter with Colt, Deborah is sent to the hospital, where she insists her stalker will attempt to finish the job. Which he does. Three seperate times, between milkshake breaks. Apparently, Colt isn’t in any kind of a hurry.

The babysitter who watches over the nurse’s kids showers at her house, runs around in a towel, sleeps naked, and has a tendency to invade personal space. No explanation given, though I have a very vivid imagination.

The round-up of definicies in this film is too huge to allow me to go into any great detail. Overlong, poorly staged, an overabundance of fake scares, and with a divided emphasis on the killer and the victims that created interest in neither. Visiting Hours’ greatest crime, and easily my biggest disappointment, is the lack of vitamin Ironside. In the beginning of the film we hardly see his face, which is undeniably Ironside’s creepiest asset. But once they began showing him in full view, I realized that I was only half-right. Ironside also has one of the great screen villain voices, and with only a dozen lines of dialogue throughout the entire film the viewer is given only a fraction of what Ironside is capable of. It’s like inviting Mike to your bachelor party and forgetting to ask him for a lapdance. A complete waste of talent.

The one and only interesting aspect of Visiting Hours actually didn’t seem to be planned. Throughout the film, the protaganist is confined to her hospital bed despite her protestations. Her requests for a reason on why she isn’t allowed to leave are either ignored or greeted with vague excuses. At one point she asks the nurse, who is carting in some intesive care equipment, if the machine is to be used on her. The nurse skirts the question, delivering the non-answer “For you… or anyone else who needs it.” And when she finally insists on checking out of the hospital, sure that if she stays she will be killed by the maniac, the nurses immediately shoot her full of sedatives and strap her down for surgery.

You would think a movie which has both Michael Ironside in drag and the creepiest Canuxploitation phone call since Black Christmas would be all kinds of alright.

I may be giving the impression that the staff at the hospital are acting with sinister intent, but that isn’t the case at all, and isn’t even implied. We know from the start who the killer is and that he is working alone. The actions of the hospital staff (and in a less pronounced way, the police) are inconsequential to the story. What this does inadvertantly accomplish is the addition of that feeling of vunerability one gets in a hospital, where your life is in the hands of someone who could very well be completely incompetent. This is the case here, with well-meaning figures of authority fumbling with your safety at every turn.

And that’s what’s so frustrating about Visiting Hours. This idea of relinquishing control over our mortality to others seems to have sprung from the film without conscious thought, and if it had actually been considered and expanded upon it would have made even better use of the hospital setting. Instead we’re treated to a half-baked feminist theme that not only falters throughout but hardly made sense to begin with.

Also starring William Shatner and the guy who does the voiceovers for the Leon’s commercials. Oh Canada!

It all started innocent enough.

Last year I picked up a copy of Chopping Mall from a small used record store in Montreal. Later that week, while watching the movie, I noticed a poster for Barbarian Queen on the wall during the diner scene. During the summer I had pointed out a poster for that movie to Doug, who eventually bought it and mounted it over his bed. I had also found a VHS tape of that same movie for Nagy not long before that. There’s a scene in Chopping Mall where some of the “teens” are watching a movie on TV. The movie is Attack of the Crab Monsters. That same week the lead actress of that film, Pamela Duncan, had passed away. As the weeks wore on, the connections between Chopping Mall and my life continued to appear, to the point where I was convinced that this b-movie about murderous mall security robots was the cosmic centre of all being. This was, of course, a naive supposition.

The truth is that all things actually lead to Roger Corman.

When I expanded my perspective to accomodate all of Roger Corman’s work, I found myself overwhelmed by the insidious hold he has on our world. Connections I hadn’t previously possessed the insight to explore became apparent. Like hearing a word for the very first time then hearing it again and again in the days that follow, this discovery has altered my entire worldview. Now I can’t escape him, no matter how much tinfoil I use.

Consider yourselves enlightened. This is Roger Corman’s world. We just live in it.

Damn, does Cronenberg ever give good intereviews. This is a terrific overview of his career, including all the dirt on Canadian independent cinema, The National Film Board of Canada and exploding heads. All very patriotic.

“People can get confused. They can think that they’re supposed to be solemn, because it’s a Cronenberg movie, and they think that’s a serious thing. But I’ve never made a movie that’s not funny. They’re all funny.

Maybe The Brood isn’t very funny. I was in a really bad mood when I made it. It’s about the only one that doesn’t have genuine laughs in it.

David Cronenberg, laff riot.

In other Cronenberg news, it looks like the filmmaker is moving even further away from the horror genre in his next batch of projects, though if anyone could take a comedy about Hollywood excess and introduce parasitic phaluses (phalli?) to the story, it would be him.

“Have you gone to http://www.redcars.it? My script is now a book, a beautiful coffee table book for fans of Formula One or of my work or whatever. It’s expensive, but it’s really beautiful and the printing is exquisite. I would be happy if some producer said, `Yes, I want to make this movie,’ but so far, no one has. So unless that happens, it’s not going to be a movie. At least it’s a book.”

Unfortunately, there is no mention of his dream project; a musical comedy about Canadian politics.

Tim Lucas of the Video Watchblog reports that famed horror television producer Dan Curtis has passed away.

The 1970’s looms large in cinema history, especially among horror junkies, myself included. It was a time when a gritty, independent vision could still make it to the big screen without compromise, and often take in a healthy box office as an added bonus. This sensibility filtered down to television as well. In fact, it’s probably safe to say that the 1970’s was the golden age of made-for-tv horror movies. And behind the most fondly remembered of those films was producer/director/writer Dan Curtis.

Curtis cut his teeth on horror as creator of the cult favourite soap opera series Dark Shadows, moving on from there to a television adaptation of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. That telefilm starred Jack Palance, who would also appear in Curtis’ version of Dracula in the title role, and one which many believe to be one of the all-time best screen renditions of the Count.

While these productions have their devout followers, for my taste Curtis really hit his stride in his less gothic work. The Night Stalker introduced the world to horror’s unlikeliest hero, Carl Kolchak, a rumpled and cynical investigative reporter on the trail of a vampire roaming the streets of Las Vegas. The Night Stalker went on to capture a 54 share of the ratings for its timeslot, meaning that over half of the viewing audience tuned in, giving The Night Stalker the best ratings for a made-for-tv movie up to that time. Curtis followed this up with a sequel, and another telefilm about a supernatural investigator called The Norliss Tapes. The story was told through audio tapes Norliss had made describing his encounters with the horrific as found by his editor, who is seeking an explanation for Norliss’ mysterious disappearance. Unfortunately, the premise never went beyond the pilot, so no one knows what happened to poor Norliss. The heady mix of horror and cynicism evident in these three films, with the little guy facing dark powers seemingly beyond his power to defeat let alone comprehend, touch on the zeitgeist of the times as well as just about any of television’s big brothers on the silver screen.

And there’s plenty more, from Frankenstein to Trilogy of Terror to Burnt Offerings to the new Dark Shadows and all the way up to the present-day. For people of a particular age, Dan Curtis is the man most responsible for many a sleepless night. Thanks for the nightmares, Mr. Curtis.

Mr. Curtis is survived by two daughters. Condolences to his friends and family.

I first heard about Hard Candy over half a year ago when the guy who runs the Lion’s Gate Horror blog wrote about how he had to walk out of a screening of the movie at Sundance. From what I could gather at the time, Hard Candy is a brutal little indie film featuring only two people for most of it’s length; a man and a young girl meeting for the first time in real life after conversing over the internet. Once they arrive at the man’s house, the facade drops and the roles of predator and prey reverse. Every two or three months since I first read about Hard Candy I’ve been checking for any further information on it, and came up with very little each time.

It’s finally going into limited release on April 14th, which unfortunately doesn’t bode well for me. The official site, along with the trailer, can be found here.