SHOCKtober: 575-555

Another day, another batch of ONE VOTE movies!

575. Cloverfield -- 2008, Matt Reeves
574. Coherence -- 2013, James Ward Byrkit
573. Cold Prey 2 -- 2008, Mats Stenberg
572. The Collingswood Story -- 2002, Michael Costanza
571. Coma -- 1978, Michael Crichton
570. Creepshow 2 -- 1987, Michael Gornick
569. Crimson Peak -- 2015, Guillermo del Toro
568. Cujo -- 1983, Lewis Teague
567. Cure -- 1997, Kiyoshi Kurosawa
566. Dark Night of the Scarecrow -- 1981, Frank De Felitta
565. The Dark Secret of Harvest Home -- 1978, Leo Penn
564. Dead & Buried -- 1981, Gary Sherman
563. Dead End -- 2003, Jean-Baptiste Andrea & Fabrice Canepa
562. Dead Snow -- 2009, Tommy Wirkola
561. Deadly Blessing -- 1981, Wes Craven
560. Death Line (aka Raw Meat) -- 1972, Gary Sherman
559. Deathwatch -- 2002, Michael J. Bassett
558. Deliverance -- 1972, John Boorman
557. Detention -- 2011, Joseph Kahn
556. Doctor X -- 1932, Michael Curtiz
555. Dolls -- 1987, Stuart Gordon

YES Crimson Peak! Mismarketed à la one of yesterday's selections, Bug, it's not the all-out frightfest people were expecting (although frankly we should know that by now when it comes to Guillermo del Toro, right?). It's some straight-up lush, ghost-flavored gothic romance, like a paperback cover come to life. Jessica Chastain steals the show, channeling the restrained menace of Rebecca's Mrs. Danvers until she just can't keep the crazy hidden anymore. Look I even find Tom Hiddleston okay and that dude makes my skin crawl! What I'm saying is, I love Crimson Peak.

There are a lot of terrific films on this chunk o' list, so well done, kids. Dark Night of the Scarecrow and Dark Secret of Harvest Home–evidence that made-for-TV movies used to know what's up. Cujo, an underrated, terrific example of how confining characters to a single, very small place can still produce an engaging film. And given the state of the world these days, not much sounds better to me than retreating into the warm, comforting embrace of a Michael Crichton medical thriller like Coma!

The What What Now?

I don't want to brag or anything, but I must admit that most of the time I'm pretty pleased with my brain. It may not have any Carrie-esque special murder powers (YET), but it's still fairly useful: it reminds me to put pants on before I leave the house, it has key dialogue from the 1995 made for TV film Midwest Obsession (aka Beauty's Revenge, starring Courtney Thorne-Smith and Tracey fucking Gold) stored in it, it hasn't fallen for any of the "flat Earth" business, etc etc. However! Sometimes–don't tell it I said this, it's just between me and you–my brain is a real jerk. For example, this year a movie called The Bye Bye Man shows up out of nowhere. "Ha! Ha! Ha!" says my brain. "What a stupid title. Really? The 'Bye Bye Man'? Best not waste your time on that, 'tis certain to be ever so awful." (I know...sometimes my brain talks like it's the fifth Little Women sister or something. It's just a thing it does.)

But then I read that Carrie-Anne Moss and Faye Dunaway (FAYE DUNAWAY!) are in The Bye Bye Man and the next thing I know, my brain is going "Okay, this movie is going to rule so hard. It has to! Trust me, I've done the math." My brain convinced me that this is a film I simply had to see. And the next next thing I know, I am spending ninety-nine cents renting the damn Bye Bye Man and reader, let me say this: that is at least $0.99 too much. That's right. This movie should have paid me to watch it!

Back in the summer of '69, a man goes on an oddly bloodless shotgun rampage. Before he shoots each victim, he asks questions like "WHO DID YOU TELL?" and "DID YOU SAY IT?" and "REMEMBER WHEN YOU COULD SIT OUTSIDE AND NOT WORRY ABOUT THE MOSQUITOS AND THE KILLERS?" Okay, that last one is strictly an I wish. But no matter what answer he gets to his questions, the man is unsatisfied and he bangs, he bangs. Then it's bye bye, man, and we travel to the future, aka the now.

In this so-called "now" three college students are excited to move into an enormous house together. I did not bother to learn their names (so sue me), but our intrepid heroes are: Guy Who Must Really Like The Dead Kennedys Because He Has A Sticker On His Car, On The Acoustic Guitar Case That Is Propped In A Corner, And Also He Wears a Dead Kennedys T-Shirt (I shall call him DK); Girl Who Is DK's Girlfriend; and Black Dude Who Is DK's Childhood Best Friend And Also Maybe He Has A Crush On Girl. PHEW!

DK finds a nightstand that has a drawer festooned with classic "crazy person" writing that warns "don't think it don't say it" over and over again. Underneath it says "Bye Bye Man"...before you can say DON'T THINK IT DON'T SAY IT, DK has thought it and said it.

A "sensitive" friend of Girl holds a kind of...seance? I guess? And I don't know, she gets both the heebies and the jeebies and the point is, the Bye Bye Man is now a thing, infecting all of our intrepid heroes and the sensitive friend and anyone else who hears his name.

How exactly does the BBMan manifest? Oh, let me count the ways:

• there are scratches in a few walls
• victims hallucinate, like DK thinks Girl and Black Dude have sex but they don't (spoiler)
• Girl develops a persistent cough
• Black Dude hallucinates that there are three maggots in Sensitive Friend's hair one time
• doors slam
• sometimes you think the black bathrobe hanging on the wall is the Bye Bye Man
• coins? there are coins
• and there's a train? a train noise and light happen sometimes for some reason?
• he "makes you do things" but really the only bad thing people do is kill other people who have heard his name, so clearly the Bye Bye Man doesn't quite understand how to propagate his evil for lasting results
• oh another thing you might do is fill up a notebook with "crazy person" writing and YES the Bye Bye Man does, in fact, have a Bye Bye Dog

Carrie-Anne Moss is a police...person? Detective, I guess, it's never really stated...that sort of investigates the goings on, by which I mean she interviews DK after Sensitive Friend gets killed but he convinces her that lying is okay sometimes so she lets him go.

Here we see Carrie-Anne Moss reminding herself that the paycheck from her appearance in The Bye Bye Man will put one of her kids through college.

Faye Dunaway appears briefly as the Widda Shotgun Guy From The Beginning, and her advice to DK about The BByeMan Problem is simply "kill everyone else who knows the name and then kill yourself." It's possible that was also her advice to me, the person who rented this garbage.

Our Heroes kind of try to figure out how get out of this mess alive ("I can relate!"–me while watching this movie) and they hallucinate scenarios and situations that never ever fool the audience. Who is The Bye Bye Man? We don't know...and I don't mean that in some esoteric "he is unknowable, a force, a concept come alive" way, like Michael Myers or some shit. I mean his origins aren't touched upon, mysteries go unsolved, it all just happens and then it's over. All we know is that he has a dog, he's got some scars, he sulks, he wears a hooded black robe thing, and his shirt has buttons, which struck me as really weird for some reason. He's a Hot Topic customer? 

In case you haven't caught on by now, this movie is awful. So awful, in fact, that while watching it, I wondered how it even got made. You're telling me that someone plopped down a script with that title and someone else handed over money and everyone just said YES and here we are? Really? How could that be?

And then I figured it out. 

The Bye Bye Man must have been written by a neural network. An AI! 

It's the latest rage: plug a massive dataset into a neural network–like, say, recipes–and the network will learn to create its own recipes. The results are frequently hilarious. And so I posit that someone, somewhere, formed a dataset from a huge amount of horror movie plots and titles and tropes and lo, the AI pooped out this movie. To the evidence mobile!

• characters frequently speak not as humans actually do, but as exposition machines might: "Hello, brother."
• all that bog standard horror movie "crazy person" writing
• the Dollar Tree Pontypool / Candyman "people speak him into reality" business, but without the actual urban legend aspect
• the Dollar Tree Nightmare on Elm Street "maybe if we're not afraid, he's nothing" business (for real, that is a thing someone says)
• all that Dead Kennedys stuff, surely a computer thought that would be a good character-building idea
• the amount of "hey you guys, it's not funny"s we get
• the "scary things" that are BBMan's hallmarks: so many trains, so many coins WHY. None of them are explained, ever. 
• he "looks creepy" like a bargain basement Slenderman, but then that Henley shirt, what is that
• the characters immediately figure out that the BBMan is a thing, the cause of all of their strife without actually learning anything
• someone sees an old timey picture of the BBMan on their Instagram (I KNOW) and it turns into a gif, so creepy!!!!!
• that title

As you can see, that The Bye Bye Man was created by a neural network is the only reasonable explanation for this mess. On the one hand, it's a remarkable technological achievement, a sign that the future is already here, man. On the other hand, the future obviously sucks! But I suppose we can find solace in the fact that the robots are not quite ready to rise up and subjugate humankind...not in the realm of horror movie-making, at least.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to give my brain a stern talking to. Bye bye, man!

THE DARK SECRET OF HARVEST HOME (1978)

Even though I am an elderly person, there are plenty of ways I utilize the technologies of the young. For example, I definitely know how to boot up a JPG. For another example, I only order pizzas via the Information Superhighway. However, sometimes my brain completely forgoes new technology in favor of the old. For example, I always have a spiral notebook and a pen at arm's reach. For another example, when I want to watch something like the 1978 made-for-TV mini-series The Dark Secret of Harvest Home, I don't first try YouTube, where the entire 4-hour affair is readily available. Instead, I spend a lot of time tracking down a bootleg, paying for a bootleg, waiting for the bootleg to arrive, and then digging in. (And I would have forgone the bootleg if the long out-of-print VHS edition wasn't edited to half the original length.)

For every second of "Aw man, YouTube would have been way easier and free-i-er," I have several minutes of sweet satisfaction because when you stream a movie, you don't get the crappy bootleg box art to treasure! Behold:

"Betty" Davis! "Sacrifaces"! It's the small things that please me so.

Also, "Sacrifaces" sounds like a new Satanic show by Mummenschanz. More Satanic, anyway.

Typos aside, that sentence...sort of sums up The Dark Secret of Harvest Home, in the same way that "A young woman enrolls in a ballet academy and is caught up in witchcraft and sacrifaces" might describe Suspiria. Like, it works but there's more to it than that.

Wait, is there more to Suspiria than that? Never mind, I'm getting off track here. And YES I'm going to use "sacrifaces" all the time now so get used to it.

I've said it before and I'll say it again and again until we're all tired of hearing it: I love a movie about a town with a secret. From Dead and Buried to The Wicker Man to Bay Cove to everything in between, give me some fish-out-of-water types trying to figure out what the heck is going on in an idyllic country town and I'm all over it. Toss in some witch robes, some sacrifaces, and some old people and I'm all over it AND all up in it. Let me tell you, friends, The Dark Secret of Harvest Home does not disappoint!

Oh sure, the set-up is as old as them thar hills, but who cares? The Constantine family is fed up with life in the big city and all the big city problems they face. Dad Nick (David "Original Gary Ewing" Ackroyd) yearns to leave the hollow world of Madison Avenue behind and make some real art. Mom Beth (Joanna "There's A Fire-Farting Cockroach in My Hair" Miles) spends her days reclining on a shrink's couch in a bid to overcome her neuroses. 15-year-old daughter Kate (Rosanna "Doesn't Need a Nickname for You to Know Who She Is" Arquette) totally has asthma and her life sucks.

On a little getaway trip to Connecticut, they cross a whimsical/ominous wooden bridge and find themselves in Cornwall Coombe, a small farming community that's super friendly and everyone seems happy and there's an amazing house for sale for wicked cheap and isn't that great let's all move to Cornwall Coombe! So they do, and everything is simply wonderful and for sure nothing will ever go wrong. Widow Fortune (Bette "Betty" Davis) has a tight (if benevolent) grip on the town. Folks are reluctant to talk about the past, and no one ever ever goes "against the ways" if they know what's good for 'em. Why, it's almost as if the town has a dark secret!

Yes! Check out Rosanna Arquette and Widow Fortune. "Widow" is pronounced "widda", by the way. And everyone says "Ayuh" a lot like this is a goddamn Stephen King movie even though they're in western Connecticut. On the one hand, this made my eye twitch, but on the other hand it just made me want to hug New England because I love New England and even though I grew up in eastern Connecticut there was definitely that feeling of "thar werest wytches here" to it at times, like when you go to Devil's Hopyard State Park, I mean who names a park "Devil's Hopyard" come on now

Kate and Beth adjust quickly to life in The Coombe. Widda Fortune shushes away all of Kate's asthma attacks. Beth likes being part of a community and begins busting out the local corn-speak. Nick, however, digs deeper into the town history for a book he's writing and finds that sometimes people go missing and sometimes you see a skeleton somewhere but then when you go to show it to the constable the skeleton is gone and sometimes you find the local peddler in a cabin in the woods and someone has cut his tongue out and no one admits that anything weird is going on or has gone on, ever.

Oh yeah, and a little babby Tracey Gold is a really fucking weird kid who screams sometimes and she picks the new Harvest Lord by smearing sheep's blood on a contender's cheeks. Just another day in The Coombe!

TRACEY GOLD YOU GUYS

So you know how it goes, right? A big Widda Fortune-sized wedge is driven further and further between Beth and Nick as the former adapts to "the ways" and the latter does not. As the year goes on and the mysterious "Harvest Home" ceremony approaches, we begin to wonder: is this a Babiez4Satan thing, or Babiez4Corn thing? Because somehow, it's always about women making babiez for some reason, ain't it?

It is! But I'm not going to tell you everything because this shit was four hours long and because if you like classic they don't make 'em like that anymore made-for-TV horror movies (aka "being a person with awesome taste"), then you should just watch it. I mean, it's right there on YouTube. Bette fucking Davis! A reasonably restrained Bette fucking Davis, even, who doesn't simply bleat-shriek all her lines like she did throughout much of the 1960s.

After you're done watching The Dark Secret of Harvest Home, you can help me settle the argument I've been having with myself since I saw it: is this feminist, or anti-feminist? There's certainly a slight whiff of Neil LaBute's Wicker Man in here as a matriarchal society proves ball-crushingly bad for the menfolk. Then again, there's also a slight whiff of The Stepford Wives in here as Nick frequently asks Beth if she wants to give up her autonomy and life goals to join in "the old ways." I need the Widda Fortune to shush away my social justice anxiety attack!

some things!

Here is a recent SLASHERS 101 sketch edition sketch, aw yeah! Click that link there if you want to order a copy.


The next installment of the Final Girl Film Club will be #50. 50! Can you dig it? As such, it feels incredibly monumental, or at least mildly noteworthy. The movie choice should reflect this, although I'm not yet sure in what way. Should it be a classic film we've all likely seen before, but perhaps have not talked about? Should it be something called Martyrs that will finally force me to write about Martyrs? Should it be something I've never seen? Should it be a straight-up slasher flick to keep in line with the OG theme of Final Girl? Sigh. So many choices. For the next couple of days, I'm open to suggestions in the comments, so suggest away! But maybe consult the list of past selections first- heck, even just the films I've reviewed in general- so we don't get all redundant up in here.

Film Club Second Chance! Way back when, in the 4th meeting o' the Film Club, I chose a movie that was not readily available at the time: The Initiation. Only two fine people took part! Well, guess what. The Initiation is now on Netflix Instant Watch, so now more people can take part. So, on Monday August 20th (that's this Monday, y'all), I will re-run my original review and add links to anyone who wants to join in. I'll probably watch it again in the interim because I do love that movie. The usual Film Club rules apply:

1. watch the movie
2. link to Final Girl somewhere in your review
3. email me the link: stacieponder at gmail dot com
4. bask in the warm embrace of your fellow Film Clubbers

That's it! If you wrote a review of The Initiation a million years ago and you want to be included, that's fine. Just add the link to Final Girl in there somewhere and send it along.

In case it bears repeating, I need your link by Monday, 8/20.

Some folks have sent me pictures of themselves wearing Final Girl t-shirts, like so:

get this shirt and others right here!

Tickles my fancy, it does. In fact, it got me thinking- back when Wizard Magazine was a thing to read, they would publish photos of fans and celebrities holding a copy of the magazine. Like, if you met Bruce Campbell and you had Wizard with you and you were like "Hey Bruce Campbell, hold this copy of Wizard while we take a picture" and Bruce Campbell was all "Uh, okay", you know?

Well, I think I would like to start a permanent page of people with Final Girl stuff- wearing a t-shirt, someone's cat reading SLASHERS 101, whatever. You don't need a celebrity, because fuck celebrities, right? Except Tom Atkins and Adrienne Barbeau and Tracey Gold. I mean, if you get a Final Girl something-or-other in the vicinity of a celebrity and you snap a pic, that's cool. But I care about you. *tear* I'd rather see you wearing a horror centipede t-shirt on top of Mount Everest. Or at the grocery store, same thing. And if you have a site or work online somewhere or something, I'll link to you. Just email pics to stacieponder (at) gmail.com, or send a link if you've posted 'em somewhere already. Don't be afraid to show your face in the picture! But do not show your genitalia!

Final Girl's The Review

When word of this so-called "John Carpenter's The Ward" began circulating, my ears were all like "We're perking up! A new John Carpenter movie? That takes place in a mental hospital? And Amber Heard is in it? Yes. Yes, we are definitely perking up." The Ward played a bunch of festivals and my brain was all like "Hey, yeah, still want to see that." Last night I finally made that dream come true, and now my ears and brain (and even, to some extent, my eyes) are all like "NO THE WARD, NOOOO. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE GOOD! WE WAITED FOR YOU AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY US?"

Honestly, my ears and brain and eyes have a point. The Ward, you see, is a fucking slog to sit through. A slog I say! And so this review will probably be a slog to sit through as well, but at least there's not the extra layer of disappointment that The Ward boasts. I mean, it's a John Carpenter movie! While I don't expect everything to be a classic on par with his best work, there's still a bit of expectation on the part of a horror fan when the director's name is slapped onto the title. Here at Final Girl, there are no expectations! Therefore, when a review is a slog or some such, it's only one layer of suckiness. One layer of suckiness: that's my gift to you.

Anyway, The Ward. Way back in the mythological time known as "1966", a young lass named Kristen (Heard) sets fire to a farmhouse and is carted away to...you know, the ward. The psychiatric ward, that is! I know, you thought maybe she'd be taken to Montgomery Ward for some dungaree shopping, but nope- it's off to the "nut" "house" for Kristen.

Things at the North Bend Psychiatric Hospital are about as you'd expect: nurses are mean, orderlies are mean, doctors seem nice but are likely secretly mean, there are only five patients, all five patients are hot young women, each patient is easily-labeled (the "sexy" one, the "childlike" one, etc), the patients get to wear makeup and regular clothes, and so on and so on.

Kristen ain't havin' none of this "locked up" shit, though. I don't see why! These mental patients are kooky. Oh, and if you put on a record, they totally know how to have a good time. Yes, it's the obligatory "we're not crazy, we're whimsical" dance scene!

They also take super steamy showers together, because as I have intimated, they are not only crazy, they're crazy hot! In the face! And also the side boob! But! before you start thinking this is some Designer Imposters Girl, Interrupted, we get to the reason why we're here, and why The Ward is purportedly a horror movie: a ghost shows up in the shower and puts the scare into Kristen. See, she's not there to borrow some soap on a rope, oh no- this crunchy-looking dead girl is there to get homicidal.

"Do you have any moisturizerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr I can borrowwwwww?"

No one believes Kristen about the ghost, of course. Or do they? Well, the staff doesn't. Probably. But her fellow patients do. Probably. It's all so mysterious!

At this point in the proceedings, The Ward chugs along in what one hopes is a forward-motion but in actuality it feels like it's chugging in place. This happens a few times:

• Kristen says "I'm getting out of here!"
• Kristen tries said getting out, is caught, is drugged and/or restrained
• Kristen says "Hey, there's a ghost here, and she's gross and mean." (I'm paraphrasing that) (unfortunately)
• Everyone is like "Nuh uh."
• The ghost shows up behind a patient, wraps her Crackin' Oat Hands around the patient's throat, and kills the patient with some form of asylum therapy (Electroshock, lobotomy, etc)
• Kristen says "Where is patient so-and-so?"
• Everyone is like "She left".

AND SO ON. There's some sort of larger puzzle to be solved, and questions to be answered- what dark secret do the patients all share? What dark secret does Kristen have? Does the doctor have a dark secret? Why haven't I watched that copy of Dark Secret of Harvest Home that I bought? It has Bette Davis and Tracey Gold in it! And by the time the answers all arrive, you likely shrug and give a "Oh yeah, that. Okay." It's not fresh and it's nothing you haven't seen before (and better), but still, I felt the explanation redeemed the boring-ass preceding 80 minutes a bit. A bit! It was familiar, but I didn't mind. That happens. I mean, I've had pancakes more than once, and it's not as if I've said every time after the first "Oh yeah, pancakes. Whatever." They're good, so I don't mind them.

Sorry, I've been thinking about pancakes a lot lately.

But then. But then! The Ward can't leave well enough alone and simply end and go away. Nooo, it has to have one of those ridiculous last-second "This makes absolutely no sense but SHOCK ENDING CUT TO CREDITS!" endings. There haven't been many of those that have actually worked, in my opinion. You've got your Friday the 13th, where the ending makes no sense but it's startling enough to be effective. Then you've got your Pieces which is so nonsensical that it actually obliterates the space-time continuum enough that it loops around on itself and ultimately makes perfect sense. But you, The Ward...just don't. On you it's cheap. Gauche, even!

"No, seriously, I need some moisturizer."

What's good about The Ward? Hmm. The ghost looked kind of neat, I guess. Amber Heard gave it her best, which isn't half-bad. Or maybe I just think that because she's so pretty. Pretty people are better at everything!

But I tells ya- if this wasn't a "John Carpenter" movie, I probably wouldn't even review it. There's a chance I wouldn't have even watched it. But, like virtually every other horror fan out there, I was curious (and yes, excited) to see what he'd do after a decade away from the big screen. And what he did...doesn't feel like a "John Carpenter" film. Sure, his ability kept The Ward from being total crap, but that's about it. There's no tension, only cheap jump scares. It's a plodding slog of a bore to sit through. Both the signature Carpenter score and his use of Panavision are sorely, sorely missed. The Ward falls into that dreaded no-man's land of "I've seen worse, but I've seen way, way better." Oh well. At least I've now seen it. That's...something, right?

There are no words.

Okay, so the post title is "There are no words.", but clearly there are words as there is a post that follows. Just thought I'd clear up that little semantic shenanigan right away.

Can "shenanigan" be singular? I've really only ever heard of "shenanigans", but I suppose the singular is also correct because there's no YOU SPELLED THAT WRONG, ASSHOLE red line under it and we all know that spell check is infallible. I like the word "shenanigans" as it's Irish-sounding and olde timey-sounding...yes, I like it even if it's also name of a restaurant with crazy crap on the walls sounding.

Anyway. You know how pictures of dead chupacabras pop up in the media fairly frequently? Well, I should clarify that they're pictures of what are supposed to be chupacabras- but the point is, these pictures pop up, inevitably after some farmer has wandered out into their field and found this dead...thing. They take a picture, the picture is all over the place- you know, this picture:


...and for while, you think (or I think, anyway) "Could that...be real? Could it? It looks real enough, but it's so impossible, it can't be real! No, it's a joke, a hoax, a ruse or a shenanigan! But...is it real? No...is it?" Inevitably it's not real- commenters point out it's some dessicated Mexican hairless dog or some mangey coyote or some such, but that's not the point! The point is about the feelings of unsure-osity and doubt that plague you (me) when first confronted with the photo. That is the point because those are also the feelings that plagued me whenever I saw box art for or a mere mention of American Psycho 2 (2002).

"Is that...? No, it couldn't be. With Mila Kunis? That can't be real. A sequel? To American Psycho? That's impossible. Starring Mila Kunis? That's so impossible it's unpossible. But there's a picture...it must be a hoax! A fantastic shenanihoax!""

But...there were no commenters to put my mind at ease with "That's some mangey Photoshop shit." No one cried "Falsehood! Lies! Blasphemer!" and that, my friends, is because American Psycho 2 actually exists. It does! I saw it with my own four eyes! I'm somehow survived a viewing of it, even, and I'm here to tell you, dear reader, that there is life before you have seen American Psycho 2 and life after you've seen American Psycho 2. You come out the other side changed. I've already started drinking heavily in the hopes of staving off PTSD.


During a ten-minute voiceover, Rachael Newman (Kunis) tells us just how this sequel came to be (in the fictional world, I mean...we all know that in the real world, Satan shat this thing out), because the very idea of it is so...well, there I go again. UNPOSSIBLE. When Rachael was a young'un, her babysitter took her along on a date with Patrick Bateman, the meticulous psychopath from American Psycho. As Patrick set about killing the babysitter, Rachael untied herself from a chair and killed Bateman. From that moment on, Rachael decided to become an FBI agent specializing in Behavioral Science, and she'd do anything to achieve that goal- anything, even going to college!

Is you mouth hanging open in sheer whatthefuckisthisareyouserious?-ness? Because mine was, literally. Hanging open. For ten minutes. Patrick Bateman is just so...casually offed here, it's ludicrous. As Christian Bale doesn't reprise the role, we don't even see his face! Just "Oh yeah, I killed him. Anyway..." and we're off to school with a grown-up Rachael.


What follows, to be honest, is not completely unlike a bad Lifetime movie plot: girl is actually cray cray! Girl wants teaching assistant position, and she'll do anything to get it, including studying and murdering! Girl really makes us question just who the American Psycho is, here. Wait, no girl doesn't. It's girl!

To be more honest, if this was, in fact, a Lifetime movie and it starred Tracey Gold, I'd probably be all over it (I actually really like Mila Kunis a lot, but I'm talking Tracey Gold). This is not a Lifetime movie, though. This is American Psycho 2, the very title of which banks on our knowledge of American Psycho. There are expectations when you're going to be so audacious- audacious I say!- to call yourself a sequel to the 2000 film.

The film fails in spectacular fashion to meet any expectations...well, except any expectations of suckage and disaster. The writers don't understand satire- if that's actually what they were going for here- nor the "black" in "black comedy". It's a mess set to an insufferable calliope-riddled soundtrack. Actually, American Psycho 2 isn't merely a failure or a mess. It's an affront. However, if you've ever wanted to see a movie in which Mila Kunis gives William Shatner a neckrub, then this is the movie for you!

Mila Kunis: finding her happy place, far away from this fuckery

In related news, if you've ever wanted to see a movie in which Mila Kunis gives William Shatner a neckrub...what the hell is wrong with you?

The SHOCKtober Post-Game Show!

Geez. Life feels a bit meaningless right now, doesn't it? What, with this whole "November" thing being shoved down our throats and all. I know how it is. (Meaningful look) I'm here for you. I thought we could take our minds off the misery of Halloween being 364 days away by taking a look at some "fun" "facts" about your SHOCKtober picks. Man, you guys gave me 732 movies! That's so cool. You guys rule!

• Director with most movies featured: Wes Craven

I was kinda shocked by that, but you guys listed 10 of his films. Dario Argento placed second with nine movies making the cut, followed by a three-way, eight-film tie between David Cronenberg, Mario Bava, and Terence Fisher. John Carpenter, whose films Halloween and The Thing nabbed the #1 and 2 spots, had six films on the list.

• Most popular decade: The 1980s

Okay, so 190 films from the 1980s were listed. The runner-up decade? The fucking aughties! I thought for sure the 70s would place second, but noooo- we're living in the now, y'all, and there are 170 films from 2000-2009 to prove it. Anyone who says modern horror is dying needs to can it!

• Movies directed by women: 9

Nine. Nine movies directed by women made the list. 9 movies out of 732- that's 1.23%. That's sad. The world just needs more women making movies- more movies by women will mean more good movies by women...more bad ones, too, but still. More. Kathryn Bigelow's Near Dark was the highest-ranked at #59. It was the only one to crack the top 100, although Mary Harron's American Psycho was close at #104.

• Number of Tracey Gold movies: Zero

What is wrong with you people??

• That settles it, it's horror: Jaws, Alien, and The Silence of the Lambs
  

These three films inevitably make "Top Whatever Number" lists of horror films- classics, favorites, bestests, what have you- and yet there are always dissenters crying "That's not horror!", or people who want to namedrop 'em but don't because they're worried about those pesky genre lines. Well, in the SHOCKtober countdown, Alien ranked #12, Jaws #14, and Silence #52. They're horror movies as much as they're sci-fi, drama, and thriller, so there you go. If you want to cite 'em, cite 'em for fuck's sake. Now let's all move on with our lives!

• Because really, horror is whatever you think it is.

I have to say, I was glad no one got typically snarky and, you know, "Sex and the City is a horror movie, ha ha!"...but some of you did come up with some unusual choices- The Cable Guy (#627), Sunset Boulevard (#284), Cries and Whispers (#467)- which were completely well-reasoned and honest choices. Who am I to tell anyone what's horrifying? Don't be all hemmed-in by categorizations. Live free, die hard, something somethinger.

• That settles it, he's a horror director: David Lynch

Lynch's name is not necessarily one that springs to mind immediately when talking about horror movie directors, but with four films making the list (and honestly, I'm a bit surprised that Mulholland Dr. didn't make it)...I think we can claim him as one of our own. Gooble gobble, baby!

• You guys looooove zombies.

There is one subgenre to rule them all, and it's zombie cinema. If you don't like the current Craze of the Living Dead, then you only have yourselves to blame! No one is shooting this subgenre in the head, so it just keeps going and going (walking, not running, mind you). Two of the Top 10 were zombie flicks, and a gander at the list as a whole will prove how much y'all dig the rotties. From Night of the Living Dead (#6) to [REC]2 (#693) and everything in between- they're coming to get us, Barbara horror fans!

• You've given me so much homework...

...and I thank you for it! Never mind the number of films on the list that I've never seen- there are tons of 'em I'd never even heard of before your choices started pouring in. Espectro? What in the what? I'm so excited to get out there and watch, watch, watch I could just barf!

And so, SHOCKtober 2010 comes to an end. It all went by so quickly and none of it was what I'd originally intended to do this month, but who cares about that? It was awesome. Big thanks to the special guests who contributed, to everyone who submitted a list...umm, thank you. Couldn't have done it without you! Well, I could have, but without your lists SHOCKtober probably would have consisted of reviews of Tracey Gold movies, and that-- wait, that would have been WICKED! SHOCKtober 2011, here I come!

Yeah!

SHOCKtober: My Heart List

Who can get enough lists during SHOCKtober? Not any of us! By "any of us", mind you, I mean me.

Sure, I posted my Top 20 list several moons ago...but I've been thinking. It feels...insufficient or something, particularly after I posted Buzz's list and Amanda's list. My choices, while they truly are my favorite horror films, seem so staid. So typical! Halloween? The Exorcist? Bitch, please. Yes, I love them like I love...things I love, but even so, I can't fight this feeling of lack I've had since I wrote down numbers 1-20 in my wide-ruled spiral notebook. My list lacks! JA over at My New Plaid Pants knows of what I speak. So I figured- hey, I can either let this feeling continue to irritate me like an itch I can't scratch, or I can pull down my pants and scratch away. I say scratch away. Scratch away, one and all. Tomorrow we think of ointments and unguents and salves, but today, my friends, we scratch.

Mmm, that got weird. The point is, this new list! It's a list of movies I heart- movies that may not be are not good, but I heart them all the same. There's even a couple that I've seen but once and upon that once, I did not like the movie. Yet here they are, for reasons that are beyond me. I didn't like them, but now I think back on 'em and...well, they belong on this list. Life, she is mysterious! Okay, without further ado...because if there's one thing Final Girl needs this month, it's another fucking list!

As always, clickin' titles take you to reviews.


A Nightmare on Elm Street III: The Dream Warriors (1987, Chuck Russell)

I think the big secret of this movie is that it stinks, but we all pretend like it doesn't. Okay, it doesn't stink, but there's some corny-ass shit going on this movie- this cannot be denied, although we all pretend that it's not corny. That's totally okay, though, since the cornballs are all balanced out by some seriously creepy moments. Love.




Pieces (1982, Juan Piquer Simon)

I recently had the absolute pleasure of watching Pieces with someone who'd never seen it before, and lemme tell you- that's the way to see it! Unless you're the person who's never seen it, in which case I'll be right over with my copy. I want to be a Goodwill Ambassador who travels the globe clutching my battered Pieces tape, spreading gore and good cheer- not only so I can revel in the amazingness of this film, but so I can watch others revel in the "That doesn't make any sense!" of it all.



Killer Workout (1986, David A. Prior)

Killer Workout (aka Aerobicide, which is all sorts of title perfection) is a terrible, terrible film. I know, a slasher set in a health club seems like a can't-lose idea, but this movie proves it can lose. That is, it can lose its way right into my heart! Countless scenes (often repeated) of women shaking their lycra-covered parts, men who all look the same punching each other and running each other over with sports cars, club owner Rhonda sneering her way through life, tanning booth accidents, a soundtrack by Donna DeLory...Killer Workout has it all and then some. Part of that "then some" includes the picture of Marla Maples aerobicizing on the VHS tape cover. Delicious!

Shower of Blood (2004, Tiffany Kilbourne)

This abomination of a film features horrible acting, horrible writing, horrible foley work, the least sexy sex scene ever, computer graphics straight outta the Sega Saturn, and, in perhaps my favorite moment, the same model of Brother word processor I used in college masquerading as a 911 call center computer. It is...amazing. I adore this movie. Heidi Martinuzzi wrote a review for Pretty/Scary back in the day that will tell you everything you need to know so you don't actually have to sit through it, although you should because it kind of needs to be seen to be believed. Just don't see it alone! Not because it's so frightening, but because it's the type of misery that's best when shared. By the way, spoiler alert: Heidi will also be talking about this movie in her forthcoming Top 20 list.

Amityville IV: The Evil Escapes (1989, Sandor Stern)

AN EVIL FLOOR LAMP. THAT GOES OVER A CLIFF. AND EXPLODES. What more do you need to know? Take one part exploding evil floor lamp, add some Patty Duke-i-tude, and that, my friends, is a recipe for heaven.







Birdemic: Shock and Terror (2008, James Nguyen)

Going to see Birdemic in a theater will provide you with one of the most fun experiences you will ever have, unless you're immune to the very notion of "fun" or "theaters" or "going". I am just saying. As bad as you think this movie will be? It will be worse.






Graduation Day (1981, Herb Freed)

You know, I really didn't like Graduation Day the one and only time I saw it...but then when I think back on it, I can't for the life of me remember why I didn't. Even reading my negative review- it just sounds awesome! I think back to the football-with-a-sword-attached, and what's not to love? I think back on the roller skating scene and how there weren't enough skates for everybody so some people essentially just ran around in a circle, and I want to give this movie a hug. Huh.



The Child (1977, Robert Voskanian)

Whenever The Child comes to mind, I hear the horrible, horrible dubbed voices of the movie in my head- in particular that of young Rosalie shouting "I don't have to tell you anything!" If you haven't seen this fim, then you probably won't care about that, but there you go. It's not an entirely uncreepy, ineffective film, but it's definitely a 12-pack of coulda beens. What it IS, however, is dementedly delightful.




Dolly Dearest (1991, Maria Lease)

Dolly Dearest is so good- like we'd expect anything less from a horror movie released in 1991. Chucky can go screw- DD is where it's at. Girl power! You know, I figure the offensive maid stereotype I employed in In Satan's Closet is okay because it's an homage to the offensive maid stereotype in Dolly Dearest (and Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell). Troof.





Shark Attack 3: Megalodon (2002, David Worth)

I admit: sometimes I think I'm falling out of love with Shark Attack 3. I KNOW, RIGHT? How could this be? I'll tell you how: it's because the first hour, if not more, is almost unwatchably dull. Seriously, it's really tough to get through. I introduce people to the film and I find myself saying "Just wait...just wait...JUST WAIT!" and finally the payoff is beyond worth it, but man. You can only take the first hour so many times before your eyes start to wander. Look, I'm just being honest here. I mean, it's here in my heart list and I think it always will be, but it might not have all of my heart anymore. We're just growing in different directions, which is no one's fault- or maybe it's Shark Attack 3's fault, because of that first hour. Keeping it real, that's what I do!

Face of Evil (1996, Mary Lambert)

In a word, I give this movie ten metaphorical boners up. It has everything I love: bodies in suitcases, made-for-TV-ness, Shawnee Smith in a Blossom-style '90s bowler hat, Perry King with an awful ponytail, deception, artists doing art, murder, Tracey Gold, Tracey Gold, and Tracey Gold. My one regret in life is that when I met Mary Lambert, I wasn't clutching my copy of this (WHICH I BOUGHT AT THE GROCERY STORE) for her to sign. NOTE TO SELF: Always carry Face of Evil with you.


Eyes of a Stranger (1981, Ken Wiederhorn)

From my review: "A tracksuited Lauren Tewes as that old slasher flick staple, the mouthy anchorwoman in peril? Jennifer Jason Leigh as a blind-deaf-mute? Head in a fishtank? 1981? Yes folks, Eyes of a Stranger has it all, including the best strip club routine EVAR." 'Nuff said.






The Manitou (1978, William Girdler)

My one regret in life is that I let someone borrow my DVD of The Manitou, and now I don't hang out with that person anymore, so basically I gave away my copy of The Manitou. Yeah, it's replaceable but picking up a new copy...ehhh, I fucking hate replacing stuff I used to have. When I get the urge to watch a naked Susan Strasberg shooting lasers from a hospital bed that's floating in space, I want to watch it now. Hold on to your copy of The Manitou and hold on to it tight!




Mausoleum (1983, Michael Dugan)

Corn teeth. Demon boobs. Unique weather systems. Marjoe fucking Gortner. La Wanda Page, who seems to think- or, perhaps was told- that she's in a comedy. Man, Mausoleum lives the kind of life that I want to lead!







Rumplestiltskin (1995, Mark Jones)

Now, I know I've mentioned my love for this movie pa-lenty of times here at Final Girl. It's currently available on Netflix streaming, and I know that some of you have checked it out because I've mentioned my love for it and now you're caught up in a web of what the fuckery because it sucks. It does suck, and please, bear in mind this warning: I know not from where my affections for this film arise. They cannot be explained. Believe me, I've tried math, physics, and even a course in the Psychology of Motivation & Emotion from Life University to solve the mystery, and it simply cannot be solved. A human centipede made of Jessica Fletcher, Columbo, and Encyclopedia Brown could not solve this mystery! Like time itself, it just is. Here's the deal: I really kind of hate Rumplestiltskin while I'm watching it because as I mentioned, it sucks. It's just bad. Okay, the scene with the remote-controlled car posing as a real car is awesome, but otherwise it's a terrible movie. Yet...and yet! As soon as it's over, I find myself thinking about how awesome it is and that I should watch it again, and if anyone should ask, I'll tell them it's the best movie ever. AND I'LL BELIEVE IT. So I watch it again, and I'm all, "This movie sucks! Except the RC car part." and the cycle continues. I'm experiencing a moment of clarity right now, so I'll tell you: Rumpleskin (typo that stays) sucks, please don't watch it. I also feel myself wanting to tell you, however, that it's the best movie ever...so run away now while you still can! You know how when you're playing Mass Effect and you're on Noveria and you fight Matriarch Benezia and she has that moment where she's all, "Wait, I'm not a total bitch! That was just because my mind is under the influence of Saren! Here's the info you need. I'm being helpful!" and Commander Shepard is like, "You're hurt! Come with us and we can save you!" and she goes, "No! My mind is not completely my own and it never will be again AND NOW I KILL YOU!" and you fight again? This is like that. My mind will never be completely my own again. RUMPLESTILTSKIN RULES!

Bug (1975, Jeannot Szwarc)

Carnivorous cockroaches who can fart fire and spell things. If you need any more than that, then you need HELP, friend.








Cathy's Curse (1977, Eddy Matalon)

Earlier today I decided that I kind of just want to watch Cathy's Curse every day forever and ever. I haven't started yet, but it's on my to-do list, for sure.

Happy Birthday, Courtney Thorne-Smith!

I have an odd amount of affection for the 1987 comedy Summer School. I do not know why, but there it is, I've said it. I am immune to your judgments!

That's the earliest I recall seeing Courtney Thorne-Smith in anything...of course, a few years later she would go on to play Allison Parker, the exceedingly irritating small-town girl navigating life in the big city on a little something I like to call Melrose Place.

Okay, so that's actually the name of the show, not some little nickname I made up- but that's beside the point! The point is, I suppose I was meant to love and/or identify with Allison and her on-again off-again roommate/paramour Billy Campbell, but the truth is I couldn't stand either one of them. There it is, I've said it. I am immune to your judgments!

Now, if all of that wasn't enough reason to celebrate Courtney Thorne-Smith a-bustin' out of her mama some time ago, then let me remind you about her greatest performance of all: as Cheryl Ann Davis, Dairy Princess in Midwest Obsession, aka Beauty's Revenge.

One of these days I'll have a copy of Midwest Obsession to make out with at night...but during the day, I will review it here. I don't care if it's a Lifetime movie. I've reviewed them before, and I think I may start doing so again- slying incorporating them into the content here at Final Girl, for they bring me so much pleasure. Don't worry, I'll just tackle the murderiffic ones- nothing about lonely widows finding love with the handsome handyman, nothing about laughing your way through breast cancer, nothing about orphans finding families at Christmastime- well, unless the orphan's name is Esther.

Anyway, yes, Lifetime movies. I mean, I don't want to start a whole 'nother blog, you know? It's time to branch out a bit. There it is, I've said it. I am immune to your judgments!

In summation, happy birthday Courtney Thorne-Smith! May all your movies be flogging movies.

talk amongst yourselves!

I don't know what my problem is lately, but I've been having difficulty making up my mind about...everything. Maybe it's the onset of summer's scorching heat, which leaves one feeling as if one resides within a tramp's tube sock. Maybe it's my brain shutting down to reserve energy in anticipation of the coming weeks, which will be busy busy biz-ZAY. Whatever the cause, it's resulted in my spending a lot more time than usual staring off into space. It all goes something like this:

1. I look at my movies, trying to figure out what to watch
2. I can't decide between A, B, C and so on through ZZZ
3. Thinking becomes too much work
4. Brain go MEHHHH
5. Sit down
6. Stare off into space trying to try to decide to decide

Blah blah blah. I did manage to make it to a press screening of Orphan, however, and I really dug it...so, you know, whatevs. Go see it! It's fun with a capital no really it was. Speaking of orphans, I did manage to recently watch Safe Harbor starring Tracey Gold, wherein she portrays a tough-as-nails-but-totally-vulnerable-underneath-said-tough-veneer detective tracking a serial killer who targets former residents of a children's home. I hate to say it, but not even the idea of Tracey Gold as a tough-as-nails-but-totally-vulnerable-underneath-said-tough-veneer detective could save that stinker. I knew who the killer was the first time the killer appeared onscreen, and it was all a bit rote. Sigh. 'Twas a disappointment, but such is life.

Anyishouldwatchfaceofeviltomakeupforthatsafeharborshit, I'm only telling you all this because I'm sitting here trying to decide when to depart for San Diego Comic Con. I can't make up my mind, although I need to rather soon since...you know, the con has already started. I may leave late tonight...or tomorrow...or tomorrow night...or..................brain go MEHHHH.

But! I know for a fact that no matter when I leave, I'm 99.9999992% positive that I won't be posting any more until I return next week. I hope to catch the screening of Trick R Treat while I'm there, so I'll come back and tell you allllllll about it. I have no idea what else I'll be doing at the con- that's just way too much planning in advance and THINKING for me right now.

I know you'll miss me so effing much you'll hardly be able to stand it (and I you, kids...and I you), but fret not, pretties! Here are some Dallas paper dolls you can print out and play with while I'm gone. They'll keep you company as only paper drawings of Dallas cast members can.

Savvy readers (ie all of you) will SURELY note that Sue Ellen's black and white dress is the number she was wearing the night she was arrested for shooting JR. I mean, a-DOY.

Savvy readers will also note that under all his tough talk and shady business practices, that JR is a true patriot.

all i ever wanted

Alright, kids, here's the deal. It's time for me to take a little... "rest".

I love putting it like that, because it makes me sound like an upper middle class mental patient from the 1950s. Which I very well could be! The truth is, though, that I'm simply taking a little vacation. During this week away I have but two goals: 1) shoot another short film with Shannon Lark, and 2) see some big trees.

The first item on that list is happening tomorrow- Shannon (of...you know...Ludlow "fame") has written and will be directing and starring in a short film, and I'm acting as DP. I've never shot anyone else's film before, so it's a bit daunting. I'll be sure to tell you all about it upon my return, so maintain your breath level at a firm "bated" whilst I'm gone.

As for the big trees, we're going to rock the Redwoods, and I cannot effing wait. As you may remember, I am a nerd for all things National Parks-related.


So! When I get back I'll have sketch cards to deliver- to everyone who ordered one, THANK YOU, they're coming next week- and Italian zombie movies to watch (Film Club, WOO!).

Also, in Ludlow-related news, I'll be posting up an actual clip sometime next week, once I figure out what to show you; yes, this means another exciting installment of "So I Made A Movie". The film is finished and last night I showed it to some people; no one pointed and laughed at me (that I saw or heard), so I guess it's not...err, laughably bad. Hooray! Here's another screen cap for your Ludlow scrapbook.

Be good to each other while I'm gone and watch a Tracey Gold movie in my honor. See you next week!