The Humble Beginnings of David Cronenberg

The following is an entry to the Director's Chair blogathon being hosted by Matte Havoc.

I doubt there's an orifice or body secretion that David Cronenberg doesn't like. Add to that some weird fetishes and his unwavering view on mankind's clinical obsession between sex and science and one arrives at a truly strange yet brilliant body of work. His best films deal with body infestation ("Shivers" and "The Fly") or the idea of twisted connections of obsession and technological mutation ("Videodrome and "existenz"). Al of these ideas are present in Cronenberg's debut film, "Stereo" (1969), and follow up "Crimes of the Future" (1970).

Ok, full disclosure here- both of these early efforts are not very good films. Yet there is some merit in the ideas and thoughts being explored. Like all great filmmakers, there are themes and predilections that will be analyzed and evolved throughout the remainder of his career. While "Stereo" and "Crimes of the Future" suffer from true student film shortcomings, they serve as fascinating footnotes for a filmmaker searching for an identity.

"Stereo" and "Crimes of the Future" deal with similar themes. Both were filmed around the University of Toronto in which Cronenberg attended during the 1960's. While "Stereo" is black and white, "Crimes of the Future" is his first full length color film. Neither of the films, which details the various wanderings of a quizzical scientist, used on location sound editing, forcing them to have a full narration track added in post-production which lends a very detached and monotone feel to the works. Imagine listening to a psychologist read his graduate studies paper aloud and one gets the idea of Cronenberg's desire to lull the viewer with phrases such as "transmorphic inebriation". In essence, "Crimes of the Future", which is the more watchable of the two films, takes a larger financial backing and explores the themes of "Stereo". Starring Ronald Mlodzik as a black coated doctor wandering around the post-modern architecture of the college, he has created the "House of Skin", an institute that treats men inflicted with a disease caused by the use of cosmetics in the future. After his one and only patient dies (through an excruciatingly painful act of a foam liquid being secreted from his eyes, ears and mouth), the doctor wanders from institute to institute coming into contact with other men suffering from various afflictions. Women have all but been annihilated from the very same cosmetic apocalypse, yet there are mutations that crop up in his wanderings such as a male patient who is said to grow female organs before they fall of and re-grow later. Yes, "Crimes of the Future" plays out just as weird as all this sounds. There are some scenes of the doctor playing with other men's feet in some sort of telepathic showcase and a group of men hiding a little girl, whose ominous face and blank stare the film ends on. As a cohesive whole, "Crimes of the Future" fails pretty miserably.


Medical and philosophical ramblings aside, there are some things "Crimes of the Future" does well. Besides looking terrific, Cronenberg's use of light and shadow eclipse some of his later work which preferred to show the violence in full display. His fascination with one's body turning on itself is also a recurring theme as the previously mentioned secretion of fluids signals the death of several patients. It's also not hard to identify his genre-pushing methods of having the doctor (Mlodzik) be mildly attracted to the fluids, eventually tasting them himself. With "Crash" on the way twenty five years later, its obvious Cronenberg wanted to disgust and fascinate in perverse ways early on. Also, the very title itself would be the "aka" title to his 1997 film "existenz"... still one of my very favorite Cronenberg films and the most trenchant examination of virtual reality ever presented on film. Lastly, Cronenberg's now famous image of an exploding head in "Scanners" have their humble beginnings in both "Stereo" and "Crimes of the Future" with their main characters constantly alluding to the telepathic powers inherent in them. In "Crimes of the Future" especially, there are several scenes of the doctor placing a bare foot to his forehead, trying to manipulate the mind of his patient. The budget wasn't there for an exploding head, but one can sure bet Cronenberg would have figured out a way to include this if he could.


But its the simple traits of "Crimes of the Future" that are the most amazing. Clearly ahead of his time with content, Cronenberg's soundtrack is a truly unnerving experience, full of disconcerting static noises, birds chirping and mechanical droning sounds that add an otherwordly feel to the futuristic pinnings of his film. Also, technically speaking "Crimes of the Future" is a polished film, full of magisterial tracking shots down hallway corridors and fish eye lenses shots that distort the narrative in that oh so good 60's way. Even if I doubt I'll ever watch these two films again, I feel a bit more schooled in the Cronenberg method of cinema... a career that revels in the excess of the nightmarish and wades through the ugly waters of body secretions like no other.

Top 5 List: The P.T. Anderson Set Pieces

The following post is my contribution to the Paul Thomas Anderson blogathon being hosted over at The Moon In the Gutter blog.

Anderson is known for staging scenes of incredible power, and these, ranked in order of preference, are the ones that continually amaze me:

5. Boogie Nights- known as the Sister Christian scene:



The more I watch this scene, the more I'm in awe of Anderson's command of tone and that spaced out lil improv that Wahlberg does. Just the perfect blend of music and image.

4. Punch Drunk Love- spinning out of control



Anderson's most divisive film is something that grows on you. The scene (starting at about the 4 minute mark) is a virtuoso display of frustration, confusion, anxiety and tension colliding. We've all felt moments like this.

3. Magnolia- breaking down



My favorite Anderson film.... a masterpiece that's awe-inspiring and magical. This scene takes on another dimension as I'm pretty sure its written directly about Anderson's own father.

2. Boogie Nights- bringin' in the 80's



Every movie deserves a scene like this.

1. There Will Be Blood- thar she blows



Still get chills everytime I watch this scene. The glorious tracking shots... Jonny Greenwood's experimental (but brilliant) score... the images that are worthy of a silent film classic...



And a bonus:

Michael Mann: The Logistics of Action

The following post is a contribution to the excellent Michael Mann blog-a-thon going on at Radiator Heaven.

Even though director Michael Mann has embraced the vagaries of technology with wonderful and illuminating results, it's nice to see that he hasn't succumbed to the post-modern style of editing and framing the muscular portions of his films; i.e. all those discombobulated, half-a-second-long shots that comprise so many action scenes today and represent a step backwards for concise and logical storytelling. I can always tell when a film plans to go down this wretched path. The opening car chase scene in "Quantum Of Solace" for example.... a car chase that sprays across the screen, full of shiny images, wincing faces, loud noises and a complete lack of spatial reference. I could feel myself slumping down lower in my seat after 90 seconds, wondering how I would ever make it through a film so spliced and diced within an inch of its life. If this is the continuing procession for all action films for the next ten years, then count me out.

And then there's Michael Mann and his 1995 masterpiece, "Heat". Featuring the greatest bank heist created on film so far (and a scenario that would frightfully play itself out in real life one year later), not only is it an exhilarating example of adrenaline film making, but it stands as my personal watermark for how every action film should be conceived.

It stands by two rules: 1. Allow the viewer to understand the setting. What makes this shoot-out in "Heat" so bracing is it's placement of good guy and bad guy. Watching it, we understand exactly where everyone is in relation to the buildings and people around them.







Through his use of over-the-shoulder tracking shots and cleanly developed medium shots, the image isn't distorted and we're allowed to see from behind the various shooters, giving us a panoramic view of the carnage being unleashed on poor downtown Los Angeles. Perhaps the most striking example of this is when Val Kilmer runs up behind a car and begins to unload on the crowd of police cars ahead of him. As he ducks to reload, Mann's camera patiently waits with him as he reloads and then re-emerges. The setting fits perfectly with the action.


2. Give the viewer a spatial sense of how the image effects the characters. If the first rule isn't in place, then the characters feelings, actions and placement must be transferred through editing. Thinking of the old trick of editing- if one were to cut to the face of a woman expressionless, then to a bright summer sky, then back to her face, the viewer may infer that she's happy to be taking in such a sunny visage. Compare the same sequence of shots with a black, ominous sky and our preconceptions may be vastly different for this woman. The same applies here. If an action scene is cut into a nauseating array of shiny images, loud noises and confusing design, then the viewer can become distressed and forced to accept the set-piece as something happening without any real foundation of cause and effect. In "Heat", every action has a counter-action and the viewer understands exactly where these actions come from. As Neil McCauley and his gang try to make their escape in their car, the bullets coming from outside:


Have disastrous (and logical) repercussions inside:



But Mann's attention to physical detail doesn't belong at just the halfway point. "Heat's" conclusion, filmed in an airport storage yard at night time, probably posed an equally difficult challenge. Instead of morphing into a shoot-em-up, the finale is full of quiet tension as the epic cat and mouse chase between DeNiro and Pacino ends with the same lucid intelligence that it started with.







The demise of DeNiro is told through light, sound, camera placement and viewer recollection. There's a very important reason Mann gives us images of planes coming and going and those runway lights brightening the area. For a thief who lives his life through mechanical diligence, its a fitting way to go out. And for Mann, it's not hard to see a bit of the obsessive concern that plagues all of his criminal anti-heroes. Whether its maneuvering through the locks of a safe, diverting their violent paths for the soft touch of a woman or slugging it out with heavy artillery, I'm just glad I can savor the clean images that tell every story. Can't every action film take place in 1995 before the slice and dice method became predominant?

Day 3- French New Wave Blogathon

Others are beginning to join in the fun:

Bourgeoiss Surrender contemplates his initial thoughts on the French New Wave, or the "Great Thing" as he calls it.

Sam at The Listening Ear takes a critical look at the French New Wave and dissects it into some very interesting points. Sam follows it up with a second post about one of my personal fav New Wave films, Godard's "Breathless".

Day 1- French New Wave Blogathon

Jump cut. That small, relatively unknown term is what led me to the filmmakers of the French New Wave. I read it somewhere in relation to the films of Martin Scorsese... a simple editing trick that speeds up time but quickly became the hallmark for a loose, electric type of French filmmaking that was beginning to grow from murmurs across the ocean into chorus waves of critical praise. The name Jean Luc Godard and Francious Truffaut kept creeping up. I had to see what this was all about. I went to the local video stores (yes, VHS copies, this was before DVD) and saw one title from the lackluster "foreign" film section with the name Godard on it. I rented it, took it home and this was what I saw:



I was hooked. The way the camera breaks the fourth wall, Georges Delerue's lush and evocative score (which still stands as my favorite of all time) and the totally superfluous lens changes as the camera lovingly traces over Brigitte Bardot's flawless body. This was cinema pertaining to style and mood, with a little story thrown in for good measure. I'd never seen or felt anything quite like it. Truffaut's "Jules and Jim" and "Shoot the Piano Player" were next. Which led me to Jean Pierre Melville. Which led me back to Godard's "Breathless". Which led me to 45 plus films of Claude Chabrol. And with each new venture, I could feel my wonder and amazement evolving as if I'd discovered something highly secretive. This "love affair", if you will, with the French New Wave continues even today. There are times when I recognize a stolen moment or idea from one of the nouvelle vague greats... and I always smile. 50 years plus, and those lightning bolts of cinema still produce charges of greatness.

There are film movements today that almost rival the energy of the French New Wave. Asian cinema, in particular, continues to ebb and flow with true masters (Johnnie To and Chan Wook Park) while the newly christened Romanian film scene is emerging as a force to be reckoned with- if only it contained more than 5 or 6 features. But the French New wave were different. The original 'film brats' (who mostly wrote and devoured movies and prodded hidden/unrecognized gems of brilliance from the studio films of Hollywood) they understood the rules... which in turn gave them permission to break them. They unleased a flurry of playful ideas based in the old genre tropes. We need disruptive voices such as these to keep things fresh, extroverted and creative. For the French New Wave, nothing else than those words applies.

Blogathon Reminder

Tomorrow begins the French New Wave blogathon. If you'd like to participate, simply comment and post a link or you can e-mail me at Henryhill51@aol.com. The blogathon will run Thursday April 9th through Sunday April 12th. I'll update daily.

French New Wave Blogathon! Calling All Blogathon Entries!

Jump cuts. Sultry black and white cinemetography. Cool cigarettes dangling from lips. Pretty women who speak of Sarte and Voltaire.

What more could anyone want in French cinema? 50 years ago (and anyone can argue a year or two) Claude Chabrol, Francious Truffaut and Jean Luc Godard burst onto the scene with electric bolts of cinema like "Le Beau Serge", "The 400 Blows" and "Breathless". The London BFI is celebrating the movement with a host of films throughout April.

Therefore, I hereby declare the French New Wave blogathon officially open April 9-12th (yes, Easter weekend). Any and all posts are welcome. Reviews, screengrabs, posters, thoughts, memories.... it's wide open. Simply e-mail your links or leave me a comment and I'll be adding all weekend. Spread the word. I look forward to everyone's participation.

Movie Endings

This post is a contribution to the Endings-Blogathon hosted at Valley Dreamin'.

What makes a great ending? I don't know if I can put it into words. Or if anyone can. We just know when an ending is perfect. Whether it leaves us with a gasp or a smile or a devastated feeling of being punched in the gut, films can achieve a cathartic transformation when they end on just that right note. My favorite ending and a very worthy entry into this blogathon has to be the final scene in Nick Gomez's 1992 indie drama "Laws of Gravity"... which I wrote about here earlier this year. Little seen and even more under represented on any home video form, the film is a cinema verite observation of four New York hoods, scratching and clawing their way for survival through petty shoplifting, incessant shit-talking and dealing firearms. It may sound especially hard to gain empathy for these lackluster burn outs, but actors Peter Greene and Adam Trese form a unique brotherly bond that echoes quietly throughout the film. As Jimmy, Peter Greene is constantly trying to simmer the short fuse that often explodes within Tommy (Trese). **Spoiler.. if you care, read no further** After 90 minutes of protective shelter, Jimmy turns his back for one second and the inevitable happens. But the power of this film's final scene is not in the death of Tommy, lying bleeding on the sidewalk in front of a bar, but the helpless way in which Greene hovers over the lifeless body, screaming for people to get back and give him some air, and constantly yelling out for "Sal!" "Sal!".. as the neighborhood father figure who never comes to help. Then, the sharp fade to black as the voice of Jimmy lingers over the fade out for a good minute, desperately pleading for people to "get the fuck back! Go home! Go home! Sal!" In the crowd of 90's indie cinema that charts some of the same territory, the desperation is the same. But in "Laws of Gravity", director Gomez makes you feel the loss of one life wasting away on the hot New York sidewalk like no one else.

One example of the languid brilliance of "Laws of Gravity". Admire the long take:




And a few honorable mentions:

Peter Weir's "Fearless" from 1993. This ending gives me chills everytime. Rent it today!



Abel Ferrera's "King of New York":



Paul Thomas Anderson's "Magnolia"
Roman Polanski's Chinatown

Stanley Kubrick's "Dr Strangelove":

Quiet Apocalypse: Kurosawa's "Pulse"

This post is part of the Kiyoshi Kurosawa Blog-a-thon being hosted at The Evening Class

In Kiyoshi Kurosawa's "Pulse" (Kairo), the end of the world comes in hushed tones. The inhabitants of Tokyo begin to slowly absorb into the fabrics of everyday life- literally. It begins with a florist's assistant and then spreads to a group of technologically inclined college students. Messages begin to surface in weird video images on computers which causes the viewer to slowly go insane, taping off their residences with red tape and then morphing into wet stains on their walls. Is what they're seeing on the website the images of their dead friends? A portal to some other world? Or is it simply their imagination and a chance for a filmmaker like Kurosawa to broaden his thematic outlook on the modern world? Whichever way one looks at it, "Pulse" is one seriously scary piece of work.

Released in 2001, "Pulse" fits in nicely with the rest of Kurosawa's moody work. I've said it before, but for whatever reason, Asian filmmakers like Kurosawa, The Pang Brothers, Hideo Nakata and Takashi Shimizu understand that the recesses of the frame, the dark edges of the image and background shadows can be just as terrifying as any horror film aesthetic. Kurosawa is probably the unspoken master of this. For an entire investment in mood, check out his latest film, "Retribution", which seems to be shot entirely with natural sunlight and one bulb per room. And even though "Pulse" is another Asian metaphor on technology taking over society (on the heels of Takashi Miike's pretty damn good "One Missed Call"), Kurosawa makes us believe in it. The desperation and impending dread hovers over each and every second of "Pulse". I'm not too afraid of nuclear weapons wiping us off the map, but I could easily see the world degenerating into a chaotic hell hole if some super virus infected modern technology and rendered us helpless. "Pulse" plays on that fear and ends on a truly harrowing visage of planes going down in flames, a woman jumping to her death (in a remarkable well staged and tricky single shot") and a woman (Harue Karasawa) stumbling around the mayhem searching for a way out. The apocalypse had never felt so scary.

Filmed in 2001 but not released in the United States until 2005, "Kairo" was pilfered and turned into a nearly unwatchable Hollywood remake in 2006. Though some of the images were transferred faithfully- including the one with a "crab woman" walking towards the camera which, in either version, is one of the more disturbing images I've ever seen- gone is the fragile sense of dread. The Hollywood version amped up the ghosts and swept out the energy. The attention was turned from the darkness of the frame to the overtness of the "jumps". With Kurosawa, his films seep into your consciousness and rattle around for days. "Pulse" is but one great example of this.

The common visual structure of "Pulse" notwithstanding, it's also a film that demands your attention. With an array of characters, the narrative refuses to focus on one person. The man or woman that we're watching one minute very well could end up a stain on the wall in the next scene. Besides being a strong indicator that Kurosawa is interested in the mass psyche as it pertain to this unknown phenomenon causing mass suicide, this storytelling device adds great tension. Anything goes. But, anyone familiar with Kurosawa's films knows that the unexpected should be expected. In both "Cure" (the first Kurosawa I film saw on Sundance channel in 1998 one year after release) and "Retribution" (2007) an unknown force triggers ordinary people to kill without warning. With the introduction to each new character, we're never sure if we can relax and put our trust in this person or if they've already been possessed by this growing evil. In "Pulse", the students affected by one's suicide exponentially impact the others. Who'll be next? Who will go home and have their computer automatically turned on and see the image of a shadowy bedroom? For some, this unwillingness to identify with a strong character can be maddening. For Kurosawa, it's yet another methodical way of dealing with the non-descriptive nature of the evolving landscape.

Last year, I included "Pulse" on my list of 15 scariest Movies of all time. It's that good. Over time, it has only gotten better. With each new Kurosawa film, he continues to dazzle and mesmerize. The logic is a little fuzzy sometimes and I wonder if he doesn't get totally lost in mood sometimes (thinking of "Retribution, which I need to see again), but its the promise of seeing something nerve-shattering that brings me back to Kurosawa as the leading figure in modern Japanese cinema. "Pulse" has been regarded as a genre attempt by Kurosawa. If this is the type of minor genre attempt he continues to make, then I'm very afraid for the horror genre itself. His 'minor' efforts reveal more purpose, more visual brilliance and more damning statements about us as a society than any 'major' work by true auteurs.

Discovering The American Cinema

This post is a contribution to the blogathon at Film At 11 blog, dedicated to the anniversary of the publication of Andrew Sarris' seminal film book, The American Cinema.

When my interest in film seriously bloomed, it belonged to the days of going to the library and riffling through the racks, checking out books and discovering new passions at every turn of the page. Writings such as Stanley Kaufman's "World On Film", or selected essays by Pauline Kael, or J. Hoberman's seminal "Vulgar Modernism", or the National Society of Film Critic's series "Film 67/68" and "Film 68/69"- all of these books drew me closer (and sometimes farther away when I couldn't find a particular movie I desperately wanted to see based on the writings) to understanding the filmmaker behind the films. Here I was, a teenager in the early 90's digging back into the past when I should've been enjoying the latest "Terminator 2" or "Jurassic Park". I did like those, but my fervor existed solely in the past as I discovered Godard and the French New Wave, Ingmar Bergman, Federico Fellini, John Casavettes and counter-culture classics like "Easy Rider". If we don't know where we came from, how can we enjoy the present? And then I stumbled across Andrew Sarris and his book "The American Cinema". Here, finally, was a book that enveloped the same passion I was feeling by watching all these grand cinematic statements from the past. Also, the almost maniacal manner of categorizing and listing that Sarris utilized appealed directly to my own insatiable appetite for list-making. What "The American Cinema" did for me was provide knowledge that it WAS important to see "Persona" or "Breathless" or "The 400 Blows", but it was even more important to place these masterworks within a larger frame. It wasn't enough to see just those films, but then to watch ALL Truffaut, ALL Godard and certainly all Casavettes to decipher the fingerprint of the director over each film. "The American Cinema" opened up the possibility to me that there was someone greater behind the camera and his thoughts opened up a whole new discussion about "bodies of work"- an ideal that seems inherent in modern cinema. I quickly learned that the visual or emotional miracle of a film wasn't found in one principle work, but they manifested themselves, equally, over and over again through the course of several years. It didn't matter whether I was viewing a watershed film event of a director's career or a one-off B movie made before that director became famous. If you looked hard enough, the miracles were everywhere. Sarris understood that process of miracles and "The American Cinema" was his documentation of those miracles. And without that documentation, I don't know if I would love film quite as much as I do today. It gave me permission to choose favorites as well as introducing me to the term "auteur". And is there, really, a more foundational approach to cinema than that?

After discovering "The American Cinema" and once the internet consumed our every waking moment, Andrew Sarris was the first critic I read online weekly (with Ebert a very close second). The spirit of auteurism has never strayed far from Sarris' cinematic outlook. While my tastes in film weren't always compatible with his point of view (his preference for more Merchant Ivory fare, for example), I received immense joy from the graciousness of his reviews. I don't think any other film critic has the air of respect shown by Sarris in his writings, continually referring to each actor, director, writer or producer as Mr. and Mrs. throughout his pieces. And while he can certainly lash out vindictivly towards a film he deems of lesser value or social importance, his eye and ear are still close to the pulse of pop culture.. despite his age. He often found value in flashy efforts such as "Running Scared" (yes, that Paul Walker vehicle with a nasty ice rink showdown), "Run Lola Run"... or reveled in the profane, nihilistic portrayal of Billy Bob Thornton in "Bad Santa", his number 2 fav film of 2003- all of this while maintaining equal admiration for "Pride and Prejudice" and the entire career of Eric Rohmer.

Yet even though Sarris penned the ultimate statement on directors, there was always room for re-assessment as he reflected on older films, saw new films by old masters and recognized the brilliance of fresh faces. While some directors were sentenced to irrational pigeon-holing within his book as "Strained Seriousness" or "Lightly Likeable" and couldn't be erased in 1968, Sarris had no problem in adjusting and admitting a mistake in later print reviews. At the very least, "The American Cinema" should be regarded as a revisionist text in the finest sense, ripe for re-discovery today by any film lover struggling to understand the transient space between past filmmaking and modern artistry. And, for a writer who wallowed in categorization, Andrew Sarris certainly defies categorization today.

To see Andrew Sarris' "Best Of" lists from 1958 to the present, check here.

The Army of Darkness: 31 Films That Give Me The Willies

In the finest spirit of the Halloween season,Ed Hardy Jr. at his blog has posted the official 181 titlesthat make up the final ballot for 'the 31 films that give you the willies'. This is the culmination of over 60 ballots from fellow bloggers, and all the films listed received at least one mention on three ballots. I'll be casting my final vote soon, but in the meantime, as is the usual custom with all Internet balloting, there's no secrecy in the accumulation (I hope). Here is my ballot for the 31 films that truly give me the willies:

31. Silent Hill- Say what you want about this hackneyed crap-fest, director Christophe Gans knows how to build nightmarish tension from sets. Just thinking about that thing wrapped in barb wire in the toilet and the mannequin nurses that swing knives based on sound give me the creeps. Too bad the story didn't live up to the visual vibrancy.
30. Nightmare on Elm Street- Released right at the height of my adolescent years, this was that ONE movie that friends and I would try to sneak peaks at while at each others house, but could never make it through for parental interruption (yes, folks, horror movies were my porn). When I finally did see it, it was just as scary as I'd imagined.
29. Tales From the Crypt- Remember this late 70's movie featuring a hit and run driver ("Thanks for the ride, lady!!!!"), and the story about a woman who makes a wish after her husband's death, and she's forced to live with his terrifying screams because she wished from him alive AFTER being embalmed? That really gives me the willies...
28. Near Dark- Katheryn Bigelow's vampire tale is as stylish as it is scary, but nonetheless, it packs a resonate punch.
27. Hellraiser- Along the same time as "Nightmare on Elm Street", forbidden horror movie for a 13 year old.
26. Legend of Hell House- One of my dad's favorite movies, and a pretty creepy haunted house story.
25. The Eye- One of the first J-Horror films I saw in the theater and the big screen only emphasizes the tension in this film because you can't hide from the flickers at the edge of the screen. Their later efforts have been disappointing, but in this one, the Pang Brothers knew how to elicit fear from things in the background and quick reflections.
24. The Beyond- Lucio Fulci's outrageous and hallucinogenic treat.
23. The Others- Very atmospheric and moody and a great full theater experience.
22. Rosemary's Baby- Probably the master of psychological horror, Polanski's masterpiece is a slow boil, but when the denouement finally hits, it still sends shivers through me today.
21. Slither- The most recent film on this list, James Gunn's film about body snatchers is more fun than scary, but it also revs up the gore to unbearable levels and I won't soon forget some of its grisly images.
20. The Tenant- Another slow-boil from Polanski, and a film that still deserves another viewing from me to fully understand what the hell's goin on, but its undeniably a textured, atmospheric thriller (sensing a trend here?)
19. Audition- Vengeful lovers and acupuncture needles. That's all I need to say....
18. Prince of Darkness- An under appreciated Carpenter flick that I'm very glad to see made the final ballot. One of the more skin-crawling accounts of satanism on celluloid.
17. The Brood- Ohh god those little things in the snowsuits are terrifying enough, but then you've got all the usual Cronenberg undertones to make this film even more unsettling.
16. Shivers- Dare I call it the most blatant AIDS film ever?
15. Nosferatu- Black and white... Max Schreck... was he really a vampire? The back story to Murnau's silent epic is legendary, and the film is equally disconcerting. One of the first (and best) takes on the vampire tale ever.
14. In the Mouth of Madness- Several Carpenter films will make the list, just not the one I'm sure everyone expects. This tale of a writer going through hell rocked me to the core when I first saw it. The scene of a boy on a bike at night time... you have to see it to believe it.
13. The Shining- Ahh those lovely low angle shots of the red headed twins. Is there a more definitive example of giving the willies?
12. The Haunting- The Wise original, this 1963 classic earns its reputation. That final scene, of a face in the attic, literally gave me nightmares for several days afterwards.
11. The Thing- Along the same lines as "Slither", Carpenter's remake is gory, grisly and features some outstanding scares. I wasn't really prepared for this film's greatness when I first watched it a few years back. This is what horror films should be.
10. House of 1,000 Corpses- While director Rob Zombie has made more and more shit since this feature debut, this is one truly disturbed vision.
9. The Evil Dead 2
8- The Evil Dead- One of the rules of Ed's ballot was that one can't list two films together, hence the separation of these two. Though tongue is firmly pressed in cheek throughout Sam Raimi's two efforts, these are also wildly exciting diversions of the horror genre. The sound work is great in both films and that gives me the willies.
7. Pulse- Amazing that Kiyoshi Kurosawa's film ranks so high on this list, but if you've seen it, you can respect that. Kurosawa has mood in spades. While very few of his films are categorically horror, his films often express a deep rooted sense of dread, and none so brilliantly as “Pulse”. What would happen if spirits from another world use the Internet to transfer their presence into our world and slowly bring about the demise of our society? “Pulse” never easily identifies itself, but images of dark rooms as a contorted shadow looms towards us or the solemn quiet that builds throughout certain scenes are highly unnerving. This is one that crawls under your skin, collects in your head and rattles around for days.
6. Don't Look Now- While there are very few outright scares in Roeg’s 1973 psychological thriller, there is that final scene when Donald Sutherland suddenly finds the thing he’s been chasing for the previous 2 hours… and it’s a downright disturbing moment, and some of cinema’s most devastating final images. Before that though, Roeg amps up the psychological tension to an unbearable level, utilizing sound and mirror reflections to chilling lengths. This is one of the true gems of the 1970’s.
5. Dawn of the Dead- Mass consumerism, both human and inhuman, is the real shocker here. While Romero’s sequel is certainly just as socially pointed as the first, Dawn of the Dead spares no limb as a group of survivors fight to stay alive inside a shopping mall. This is fun from start to finish, with more humor and interesting observations than 10 horror films combined. Some don't find 'the willies' in comatose-speed zombies, but I do.
4. Ju-On- Only 5 years ago and the J-Horror movement was beginning to take shape. Now, Hollywood has drained the life out of the genre, substituting teen cleavage for harsh psychological thrills and abrasive editing in place of subtle, jarring movements in the corner of the frame. And while it’s hard not to partially blame Shimizu for this (seeing as how he re-directed 2 of his Asian films for Hollywood with Sarah Michelle Gellar), this 2004 J-Horror film really pushed these films into the limelight. Tremendously creepy and eerie, Ju-On works best in a dark movie theater with the sound cranked up and no where to hide from the images. While the film’s story- ghosts in a big bad haunted house- lacks some spark, the energy of the film lies in the small scares and the suffocating mood that slowly boils as the film rolls along.
3. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre- Besides the obvious reasons, Hooper’s masterpiece feels unlike any other horror movie- raw, unfiltered, dirty… all of the things that give this movie a “lived in” feel. Hooper never quite regained his chops after this debut, but the existing result is a terrifying and perverse portrait of madness that fits perfectly into any midnight movie extravaganza. This is the kind of film that forces you to take a shower after watching it.
2. Demons- Carrying on the horror tradition of his father, Mario, this Italian zombie movie (like Romero’s above) constantly exerts a sly gesture of political and cinematic winks, while remaining wholly true to its gore-induced roots. A group of people are trapped inside a movie theater while flesh eating zombies claw away at them. While fellow Italian filmmakers were creating horror films whose splintered narratives made them feel choppy (see any Lucio Fulci film) Bava’s intention was clear- entertain. And in the process, he infused new life into a deflated genre. Extremely bloody and sometimes shocking.
1. Night of the Living Dead- This was one of the first horror movies I remember watching, and more directly, watching through the slits of my fingers as I held them over my eyes. Even today, Romero’s black and white zombie-fest is light years ahead of the social commentary and the gory bleakness of modern horror films. “Night of the Living Dead” is a perfect example of a filmmaker creating the right movie at the right time with an ample understanding of its context in history.

To Punctuate the Moment

This post is part of the Close Up Blogathon hosted by The House Next Door.

The close-up shot utilized in the visual medium can do three things:

1) they can shock your senses into identifying, on a very personal level, with the character within a given moment.
2) they can project emotions, good or bad, with harrowing accuracy- how can you look away?
3) they can provide relief.

For example:




In between these quick cut images of carnage in Arthur Penn's "Bonnie and Clyde", there's a quick second reaction shot when Warren Beatty begins to put two and two together and accepts the idea that a host of lawmen are the cause of the bushes rustling in the near distance. The close-up of Beatty is an understated editing choice that makes the death of these outlaws a little more poignant in what it reflects rather than what it says- a man identifying and accepting that fate has finally caught up with him. The close-up is regretful.

Example 2:


In Andrew Dominik's masterful "The Assassination of Jesse James By the Coward Robert Ford", he alternates between languid long shots of pristine country and intense, somber close-ups that scrutinize so many emotions boiling beneath the surface. In one unflinching scene, the camera holds on Casey Affleck (as Bob Ford) as Jesse James belittles him in front of his family over the dinner table. The shot feels like it goes on forever, intent on framing Affleck's face in the center of the frame as his expression fades from hero-worship to disdain. In that single close-up, motivation and betrayal and character depth are given heavy emphasis. There's more exposition in that one scene than many films strive for during 2 hours. The close-up is confessional.

Example 3:

Comedy. It can be verbal or it can be visual. More often than not, the quick cutaway close-up is of something unmentionable, so its probably better that's its visual. The most recent examples in "Knocked Up" (the "I shouldn't of gone in there..." preceding image) or "There's Something About Mary" (think Franks and Beans....)represent the close-up shot as cathartic laughter. Though often condemned as dirty or crude, these are close-ups that add a dimension to the written word. They don't always work, but when they do, they reach comedy gold. The close-up as relief.

Music Makes the World Go Round

The following is my addition to the Film Music Blogathon at Windmills of My Mind.

We all understand the importance of music to films. Hell, the idea behind soundtracks now exists in every facet of our daily lives. Who doesn't have an Ipod stuck in their back pocket so we can instantly change the soundtrack of our hum-drum days? The fact that music presents us with a varied catalog of emotions and feelings speaks directly to the innate ability of movies to reach us on a basic level. We've all watched a movie where the soundtrack is often more involving than the film itself. And, when a soundtrack is REALLY good, it not only punctuates the strength of the moment, but it rattles around in our heads for days, refusing to loosen its grip. The music of Georges Delerue has been rattling in my head for several years now.

First off, a quick list of some films that Delerue has composed the soundtracks for: "Platoon", "Salvador", "Contempt", "The Conformist", "Silkwood", virtually all of Truffaut's films, "Beaches", "The Black Robe" and "True Confessions", plus over 300 other various film and television projects dating back to the early 50's. Prodigious, yes, but not well known, even though he won an Oscar in 1980 for his score to "A Little Romance" and was nominated 4 other times for "Julia", "Day of the Dolphin", "Agnes of God" and "Anne of a Thousand Days". The lack of recognition shouldn't be surprising. With the exception of James Horner, Bernard Herrmann, John Williams and possibly Howard Shore, there aren't that many composers who break into the global limelight unless they pen a true honest to God classic (think Williams and "Jaws"). Delerue, like so many other composers, harbor a deep passion for relating images to sound and they often go about their business in relative anonymity. But for me, Delerue burst into my global limelight about thirteen years ago.

Being the Godard nut I am, I was quickly burning through his oeuvre of playful, revolutionary 60's films when I rented 1963's "Le Mepris" aka "Contempt") from the local Blockbuster. I turned it on and from the opening moments, Delerue's theme wafts across the images with such a stunning clarity. I re-watched "Contempt" 3 times that weekend, falling in a deep obsession with the film's soundtrack. I quickly checked out this French composer, born in 1925, and saw that he worked largely with French filmmaker Francois Truffaut. So, Truffaut films it was. I think this was the first time in my formative years as a movie lover that I was guided through the images of certain films by a composer rather than the true auteur, the director. From there, I traveled back to Oliver Stone who employed Delerue on two of his films, "Platoon" and "Salvador". I was slowly being seduced by Delerue's lyrical and haunting music. It seemed to hit a pitch perfect harmony with the brutal images of death and destruction presented by Stone. Then there came Delerue's arrangement of Samuel Barber's Adaggio For Strings in "Platoon" that defies words. This was a man who understands the powerful suggestions music can have on the human soul. I was hooked. There was no looking back. Georges Delerue was and is my favorite composer and his music often deepens my appreciation for the images they accompany. That can't be said for many. But the theme that, in my humble opinion, defines the nature of Georges Delerues is known as "Theme de Camille" from "Contempt". It's a hypnotic, lush tune that replays itself over and over during Godard's exploration of a marriage disintegrating between two very beautiful people (Michel Piccoli and Brigitte Bardot). "Theme de Camille" has no other mission in the film than to play as a backdrop against the pulling and tearing of emotions and conversations that exist between the feuding couple. In one instance, it serves as a poignant exclamation of sincerity as Piccoli (and Godard for that matter) lingers over the naked body of Bardot, telling her that he loves each and every inch of her. Later in the film, the theme acts as a mournful elegy as Godard's camera tracks around the wreckage of a vehicle. Like the best of Delerue's theme songs, his music is a multi-purpose, not content to point the listener (and viewer) in one direction. His music takes on a variety of purpose. It's mood music at its best.

The enduring legacy of "Theme de Camille" has surfaced over the years, resurrecting itself in commercials for Chanel, compilation movie clips, and even sampled in the soundtrack of Martin Scorsese's "Casino" in 1995, no less during an emotional high point that corresponds with the violent outburst between man (DeNiro) and woman (Sharon Stone) as their marriage disintegrates. It's a sly nod to Godard's earlier use.

Delerue would go on to create other masterpieces (as evident above when I listed just a few of his credits) but "Contempt" is something altogether different. Delerue died in Los Angeles in 1992 and he's a composer who never really got his due. Was it because he worked largely in France? Still, placing the musical framework to 90% of Truffaut's films should earn him something. Or have we, as a collective group, become somewhat indifferent to the accomplishments and additions of the film composer? Quite often, a film's score will put it over the top for me. Is there a better modern soundtrack than Jon Brion's expressionistic layers in "Magnolia"? Or the music of Michael Nyman (and I'm thinking specifically of his work in "Wonderland", "The Claim" and especially "Gattaca"). Or what about the oft-hated build ups of sound produced by Philip Glass, a composer whose work often threatens to overtake the film's actual drama but feel so perfect to me? These are just a few examples of the brilliance inherent in film today. Delerue is in a class all by himself. He wasn't showy or pretentious. His music is crystal clear, rendering the many emotions of film viable through sound. Instead of just adding a soundtrack, he often added heart and complexity. And that's the greatest compliment a composer can receive, whether he's popular or not.

I've Been Tagged (The Thinking Blogger Award)

Over the weekend, something interesting began happening across the blog universe. Dennis at Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule mentioned a few blogs that make him think. This was in response to a seperate blog naming Dennis as a blog they often read. The whole affair can be traced back to its humble beginnings here, but the idea is simple- its yet another way for the community of blog-o-spheres to call out niches of interest in this ever-expanding and exciting forum. And it's been virusing all across blogs ever since. So, I'm pleased to announce that this little blog has been mentioned in the list of Jim's at his Talking Moviezzz blog and the activity will be reciprocated with my own list.

The rules are as such:

1) If, and only if your blog is one that is tagged on a list, you must write a post with links to five other blogs you like that consistently make you think (hence, the Thinking Blogger’s Award).

2) Link to the original blog so people will know whose good idea all this was, found here

3) Proudly display the “Thinking Blogger Award” logo with a link to the post you wrote.


So, here goes, in no particular order:

Drifting- Not only is the writer of this blog, David Lowery, a Dallas native such as myself, but also an accomplished short film maker and writer in these parts. But, he doesn't wallow in self serving enterprises, instead shifting the focus of his blog onto other filmmakers, such as when he posted a lengthy interview with director Charles Burnett or posts the latest P.T. Anderson clip. Drifting is essential reading.

Better Than Fudge- Writer Josh Horowitz has a real life writing about films for MTV and other publications, and his blog is a great diversion for film related matters, You Tube posts and some of the funniest pictures you'll surf across on the web. If you don't want to take things to seriously, Better Than Fudge is just what the doctored ordered.

Noel Vera blog- Writer Noel Vera brings us reviews from all over the world, and none as entertaining as his recent dispatches from the Jeonju Film Festival, including thoughts on the festival as well as pictures from his experiences (as a jurt member). This is why I read blogs- to open myself up to places and people that, otherwise, I'd never know. And Vera does a fantastic job of giving us glimpses into foreign worlds with texture and prose.

Coffee Coffee and More Coffee- Another writer who often brings us excerpts from foreign worlds (as he used to reside in Taiwan), Peter Nellhaus has been writing about film for major publications for years now, but none as intimately as within his blog. Everyday there's a new found gem on his blog, reviews from films I've never heard of and screengrabs that jump off the page. Another invalubale source of great info.

Trashcan Odorous Jr blog- Though his posts are infrequent, one of my best friends and one who can shed some insightful thoughts on everything from politics to TV. And I imagine he's working on some great posts about "Deadwood" and "Carnival" right now since he finally discovered the unlimited joys of Netflix.


So, there's 5. Link and enjoy and carry on the "Thinking Blogger" torch. And thanks Jim for the mention!

Lovesick-Blog-a-Thon: The Most Romantic Film You've Never Seen

Take a show of hands: how many people out there have seen a film by Spanish director Julio Medem? I doubt there are very many hands in the air right now. I say this not to sound elitist, but to exemplify just how many great undiscovered cinematic treasures there are out there right now, and why the existence of blogs (and blogathons) is important; because they give ordinary people ample amount of space to wring out thousands of words about movies past and present at such a frequency that it borders on sensory overload. Julio Medem hasn't made a film since 2002's "Sex and Lucia", so therefore the print media has no reason to highlight this extraordinary director or his work. And that's where blogs come in- to put a pulse on whatever type of film breathes life into a movie watcher or his/her compulsions. More specifically, blogathons, a cyber event that links a host of ideas and thoughts within a given context, do something else that's unique to the blog universe- they help form a community of like minded individuals whose one passion is the consumption of film watching and writing. That's something I don't take lightly.

So back to this Julio Medem fella. In 1999, Medem directed a film entitled "Lovers of the Arctic Circle" (and it certainly sounds romantic doesn't it?) I wandered into it not knowing anything about the filmmaker, any of the actors, or even the storyline. I initially went to see another movie, but that show had been cancelled due to the reel breaking. Even though this was before the oil prices that strangle us car owners today, I couldn't let this trip go to waste, so "Lovers of the Arctic Circle" it was. Upon exiting the film, I was enraptured and stunned by the film's emotional connection. It had touched a nerve deep inside, announcing the presence of a great filmmaker.

As to the film itself, its plot concerns Otto (Fele Martinez) and Anna (Najwa Nimri) as star-crossed lovers who meet as children, fall in love as teenagers, and desperately attempt to reconnect as adults. Like all of Medem's films, "Lovers of the Arctic Circle" plays heavily with chance and fate and it features a fractured narrative that utilizes visual cues as time progresses (cows in "Vacas", a motorcycle in "The Red Squirrel" amd Anna's deep brown eyes in "Lovers"). The relationship that exists between Anna and Otto is not a precocious one, but earns its depth through the playful interaction between Medem's lead actors. By placing them as half brother and sister when Otto's mother marries Anna's father, Medem flirts with something taboo or perverted, yet he plays everything as just the opposite- sweet and endearing. And when the film reaches its bittersweet denouement, it certainly earns its romantic stripes. Medem has built up an incredible well of empathy around his palindromed characters, and the ending is a near-perfect example of heartbreak rendered as magical release. I do have a heart, so I wouldn't dare betray the genuine surprise and sadness that ends Medem's "Lovers of the Arctic Circle". Part of the reason I fell in love with this film is the way it blindsided me, and having a film do that is one of the great pleasures and the reason we watch over and over, hoping for something transcendental. "Lovers of the Arctic Circle" is definitely that.

This entry is a part of the Lovesick blogathon hosted at 100 Films blog. Go there and enjoy some great writing.

15 Horror Films You Should See

I appreciate the response given by fellow bloggers and their 15 favorite horror films. Below you'll find a link to each site, and I'll update it daily.

My 15 stands as these:

1. Night of the Living Dead (1968), dir. George Romero- This was one of the first horror movies I remember watching, and more directly, watching through the slits of my fingers as I held them over my eyes. Even today, Romero’s black and white zombie-fest is light years ahead of the social commentary and the gory bleakness of modern horror films. “Night of the Living Dead” is a perfect example of a filmmaker creating the right movie at the right time with an ample understanding of its context in history.

2. Demons (1985), dir. Lamberto Bava- Carrying on the horror tradition of his father, Mario, this Italian zombie movie (like Romero’s above) constantly exerts a sly gesture of political and cinematic winks, while remaining wholly true to its gore-induced roots. A group of people are trapped inside a movie theater while flesh eating zombies claw away at them. While fellow Italian filmmakers were creating horror films whose splintered narratives made them feel choppy (see any Lucio Fulci film) Bava’s intention was clear- entertain. And in the process, he infused new life into a deflated genre. Extremely bloody and sometimes shocking.

3. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) dir. Tobe Hooper- Besides the obvious reasons, Hooper’s masterpiece feels unlike any other horror movie- raw, unfiltered, dirty… all of the things that give this movie a “lived in” feel. Hooper never quite regained his chops after this debut, but the existing result is a terrifying and perverse portrait of madness that fits perfectly into any midnight movie extravaganza. This is the kind of film that forces you to take a shower after watching it.

4. Ju-On (2004) Takashi Shimizu- Only 2 years ago and the J-Horror movement was beginning to take shape. Now, Hollywood has drained the life out of the genre, substituting teen cleavage for harsh psychological thrills and abrasive editing in place of subtle, jarring movements in the corner of the frame. And while it’s hard not to partially blame Shimizu for this (seeing as how he re-directed 2 of his Asian films for Hollywood with Sarah Michelle Gellar), this 2004 J-Horror film really pushed these films into the limelight. Tremendously creepy and eerie, Ju-On works best in a dark movie theater with the sound cranked up and no where to hide from the images. While the film’s story- ghosts in a big bad haunted house- lacks some spark, the energy of the film lies in the small scares and the suffocating mood that slowly boils as the film rolls along.

5. Dawn of The Dead (1979) dir. George Romero- Mass consumerism- both human and un-human- is the real shocker here. While Romero’s sequel is certainly just as socially pointed as the first, Dawn of the Dead spares no limb as a group of survivors fight to stay alive inside a shopping mall. This is fun from start to finish, with more humor and interesting observations than 10 horror films combined.

6. Don’t Look Now (1973) dir. Nicholas Roeg- While there are very few outright scares in Roeg’s 1973 psychological thriller, there is that final scene when Donald Sutherland suddenly finds the thing he’s been chasing for the previous 2 hours… and it’s a downright disturbing moment, and some of cinema’s most devastating final images. Before that though, Roeg amps up the psychological tension to an unbearable level, utilizing sound and mirror reflections to chilling lengths. This is one of the true gems of the 1970’s.

7. The Evil Dead 1 and 2 (1983 and ’87) dir. Sam Raimi- So I cheated here a bit and lumped together two films at once, but can you blame me? Both of Raimi’s hyper-energized flicks cull two distinct generations of horror into two wonderfully realized projects. By morphing the zombies of Romero into the low-budget antics of the independent film movement of the early 80’s, Raimi essentially re-defined the genre in moving and incredibly inventive ways. The reaction shots of Bruce Campbell throughout these films is reason enough to find them, but it also satisfies the gore hound in anyone.

8. House of 1,000 Corpses (2003) dir. Rob Zombie- One of the most disturbing horror (and grindhouse) films of the last 10 years, Rob Zombie’s descent into madness recalls all the B-movie excesses he soaked up as a youngster, but nothing could prepare you for the assaulting final 30 minutes of this film, where sanity and good taste go flying out the window. A group of teens are stuck (where else) in the country when they come across a truly sadistic family who make them their own play toys. Like “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre”, director Zombie has opted for seedy, dirty settings that graphically underscore the malignance of the film’s attitude.

9. Pulse (2004) dir. Kiyoshi Kurosawa- If there’s a common theme among a majority of the films on this list, its mood. Kurosawa has mood in spades. While very few of his films are categorically horror, his films often express a deep rooted sense of dread, and none so brilliantly as “Pulse”. What would happen if spirits from another world use the internet to transfer their presence into our world and slowly bring about the demise of our society? “Pulse” never easily identifies itself, but images of dark rooms as a contorted shadow looms towards us or the solemn quiet that builds throughout certain scenes are highly unnerving. This is one that crawls under your skin, collects in your head and rattles around for days.

10. The Thing (1982) dir. John Carpenter- I rented and watched Carpenter’s version on a whim one day. What I found was an utterly disgusting and disturbing series of images and transformations that changed my perception about Carpenter’s directing skills. There are so many surprises and gross-outs in this film, that it doesn’t seem fair to other horror films. Plus, like “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” and Cronenberg’s earlier efforts, Carpenter was able to scare and create a snide comment on things sexual and political.

11. The Haunting (1963) dir. Robert Wise- Atmospheric and undeniably eerie, Wise accepted this project as a worker under contract and turned it into an instant classic by maintaining smart camera angles and accentuating the presence of the gothic house in which the film’s main characters reside. The final moments, and a face in the attic, are impressive.

12. In the Mouth of Madness (1995) dir. John Carpenter- I know at least a couple of Carpenter flicks has to make the list, I just imagine it’s not the one that will make plenty of them. While I have respect for “Halloween”, I saw it too late in life to recognize its greatness beyond being one of the slasher trendsetters for later generations, and “In the Mouth of Madness” rocked me to the core upon first viewing. Sam Neill plays a novelist whose novel begins to turn people insane as well as calling to life the novel’s nightmarish narrative. While the film’s denouement turns a little tepid, there are some imaginative and jarring moments- a boy riding a bike over and over at night time namely- that gives you a few goosebumps.

13. The Shining (1980) dir. Stanley Kubrick- Ahh those lovely low angle tracking shots. Kubrick, like Polanski, was a director who understood the ramifications of camera placement. That and those weird, eerie red headed twin girls. It’s almost a cliché to list “The Shining”, but it’s a film of immense intellect and wonderful pacing that elicits some twisted moments.

14. Nosferatu (1922) dir. FW Murnau- Black and white is just creepier. While Herzog was able to capture some of the unnerving intricacies of “Nosferatu” in color, the poetry and engraved images of Max Schreck crawling around the screen as the original vampire can never be duplicated. Sensual and scary, Murnau had to speak in purely visual ways, and he created a masterpiece that has stood since the early 20’s.

15. Shivers (1974) dir. David Cronenberg- A bunch of parasitic mutations invade the bodies of people in an apartment complex and turn them into horny zombies. Sounds like the stuff of genuine B horror movie, but Cronenberg’s debut is much more than that… and probably the most overt attack on sexually transmitted disease ever placed on film. While a majority of Cronenberg’s films use genre to comment on other things, “Shivers” speaks volumes while maintaining a tongue in cheek attitude.


And joining in on the fun is Weepingsam over at his blog. He conducts a list of oldies but goodies and even manages to throw some theory into the mix.

Adam over at DVD Panache also throws up a list and his number 1 will probably surprise you.

Evan Waters at Club Parnassus scares up a top 15 at his site as well.

Dennis at Sergio and the Infield Fly Rule gives us a link to a list he created last year with the promise of a new one any day now! In the meantime, his blog has been on a Halloween roll anyway, documenting some lost classics and giving us some great old posters to feast our eyes on.

And last but not least for now, Moviezzz at his busy blog has also added a list.

Updated 10-31! Dennis at Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule has included a new list, detailing his 13 underrated and lost horror classics. He then goes further and lists 13 more, then tops off the whole affair with a "guest writer's" favorite 13. Great stuff.