Middle Earth 911

Dispatcher: 911. What is the nature the nature of your emergency?

Caller: They have taken the bridge . . . and the second hall . . .

Dispatcher: Excuse me?

Caller: We have barred the gates- but cannot hold them for long.

Dispatcher: Alright, sir, where are you calling from?

Caller: The ground shakes . . . drums in the deep . . . We cannot get out . . .

Dispatcher: Sir, are you trapped somewhere? Are you hurt? Has there been an earthquake?

Caller: A shadow moves in the dark.

Dispatcher: Sir, are you currently intoxicated?

Caller: We cannot get out . . .

Dispatcher: Are there other people there with you, sir?

Caller: They are coming.

Dispatcher: Who is coming? Sir? Sir? Hello?

(there is some sort of commotion on the other end of the line)

Caller: Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!

Dispatcher: Sir, has someone been injured? Hello? Is anyone there?

Voice In the Background: Mr Frodo!

Dispatcher: Sir? Is that a member of your party?

Voice In the Background: Orcs!

Voice In the Background: Get back! Stay close to Gandalf!

Dispatcher: Sir, are you in any danger? Sir?

Voice In the Background: They have a cave troll!

Dispatcher: Alright, sir, we're ready to contact a deputy to send to your location- but I'm going to have to ask for-

Voice In Background: Let them come! There is one Dwarf in Moria that still draws breath!

(Line Goes Dead)

A patrol car was later sent to the Kazad-Dum, but despite obvious signs of a altercation between an adventuring band and a local gang of orcs, no signs of the caller or his companions has yet surfaced.

#1: Poltergeist (1982)

"They're here."

Babyboomer couple Steve and Diane Freeling (Craig T. Nelson and JoBeth Williams) seem to be living the American Dream: they have a nice suburban home, have three children and a dog, and are about to put in a brand new pool in their backyard. But five-year-old Carol Anne (Heather O'Rourke), the Freeling's youngest child, has begun to act strangely- she talks to the television when it is displaying static, and after a mysterious earthquake that only the Freelings can feel she makes the odd announcement: "They're here."

Soon thereafter it becomes clear that there is something very odd going on in the Freeling's house: Spoons bend, glasses break, and chairs stack themselves neatly on the dining room table. At first Steve and Diane are merely puzzled by the strange phenomenon- but then Carol Anne disappears during a violent thunderstorm, and the Freelings begin to hear her voice talking to them from their television . . .

When I was compiling this list it didn't take me long to put Poltergeist at number one. Produced and partially story boarded by Stephen Spielburg and directed by Tobe Hooper (who's other notable work was 1974's The Texas Chainsaw Massacre), the film is a unique mix of the these two director's sensibilities. There's a real feeling of wonder that pervades the piece, buoyed by the excellent score by Jerry Goldsmith, that can quickly degenerate into grotesque horror when necessary.

Poltergeist also obviously had a huge budget: I honestly can't think of a horror film that has as many unique set pieces as this, and all well before the advent of CGI. Most likely due to Spielburg, the movie has the feel of a wild theme park attraction (especially its explosive climax), making it a great companion piece to a popcorn film like Jaws. But for all of its crowd pleasing aspects, there's a far more interesting layer of complexity that makes it more than just a simple haunted house film.

First of all, I think its fairly interesting to note that the film plays heavily upon one of the subconscious fears of the baby-boomer generation: notably, will they make suitable parents? There are a lot of not-so-subtle elements to suggest this: the Freelings smoke pot while their kids are asleep, Diane switches the television from static to a violent war film to entertain Carol-Anne, and its implied that their teenage daughter, Dana (Dominque Dunne), is sexually promiscuous- and given that Diane is 32, Dana can't be that old, and yet has apparently spent a night at a nearby motel . . . I also find it hilarious that she has a hickey on her neck during the climax of the film. The fact that Carol-Anne is snatched from the Freelings while they are- understandably- otherwise occupied, mirrors the real fear of many parents of the era: child kidnappers. (I was born in 1978, so I actually was Carol-Anne's age when this came out, and I definitely remember the constant admonitions to never talk to strangers.) This makes the movie a trial by fire for the Freelings to prove their worth as parents, something which they do with flying colors.

The other element of the film that I find fascinating is that the title of the film itself is a ruse (lots of spoilers ahead.) This is not a film about a Poltergeist, it's a haunting brought on by incredibly pissed off spirits- and in this way I think the film is a very clever condemnation of the American Dream itself- the Freelings comfortable life is built entirely upon a graveyard- both literally and figuratively. In this way, it shares a lot of elements with the Shining, whose haunted hotel is filled with imagery of the Native American cultures that were destroyed to make way for Manifest Destiny, and I love the way the truth is visually hinted at throughout the film: the dog attempting to dig up the buried canary, the gaping pool, and the old jewelry that falls through the portal in the living room to name just a few.

Finally, I suppose I should talk briefly about the "Poltergeist Curse," a rumor that came about due to the fact that both Dominque Dunne and Heather O'Rourke died young- Dunne at 22, strangled to death by her jealous boyfriend, and O'Rourke of septic shock at 12. The "curse" supposedly also claimed the lives of some of the actors that worked on the sequels of Poltergeist, but seeing as these were men at least fifty years old, I think we can rule out the supernatural.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this trip with me down memory lane! Perhaps someday down the road I'll post my top ten "feel good" films just to balance this one out . . . but don't hold your breath.

We now return you to your regular programming.

#2: The Exorcist (1973)

"Your mother's in here, Karras. Would you like to leave a message? I'll see that she gets it . . . "

In an archeological dig near the ancient city of Nineveh (the demolished capitol of Assyria by the way, Monty Python and the Holy Grail fans), the elderly Father Lankester Merrin (Max von Sydow) comes across an odd find: a christian medallion depicting Mary and the baby Jesus (odd considering the pre-christian location) and a greenish stone amulet bearing the bestial head of Pazuzu, a Mesopotamian demon. Apparently taking this as a sign that something evil has been unearthed, and the power of the church is required to fight it, he takes leave of the dig and plans a trip back to the United States.

Meanwhile, the successful actress Chris MacNeil (Ellen Burstyn) is in the process of filming in and around Georgetown University when she begins to worry about the strange behavior of her twelve-year-old daughter, Regan (Linda Blair), who complains that she can't sleep at night due to her bed shaking. Taking her to doctor after doctor to determine what is the matter with her, Regan's condition worsens considerably, and she begins to use foul language and lash out violently at others. Then there's the matter of the things science can't seem to explain: strange noises in the attic, considerable poltergeist activity, and the horrible sense that there actually is someone- or something- inside of Regan.

Scientific explanations seemingly exhausted, Chris MacNeil turns to Father Damien Karras, a young priest and psychiatrist working at Georgetown University. She believes only an exorcism will save her daughter, but Karras- his own faith shaken by the terminal illness of his mother- may not be the right man for the job . . .

The Exorcist, based on the novel by the same name by William Peter Blatty, is an exquisite film. It's expertly written, paced, and filmed, and manages to continuously up the ante- hard to do when you have an antagonist as outrageous as the demon possessing Regan MacNeil, but for all of its over-the-top moments director William Friedkin really knows when to reign back and let the mood do the work for him. Some of my favorite scares are the brief flashes you get of "Captain Howdy", Regan's no-so-nice imaginary friend, or the shadowy projections of Pazuzu staring at us from the bedroom walls . . . though I still jump every time Chris decides to investigate the attic (Would anyone in their right mind do this? Even if you think it's rats? I mean, listen to them lady!)

Speaking of Pazuzu, I think it's really interesting that most people assume that this is a film about the roman-catholic church versus the devil, especially given the fact that the film itself seems to grimly suggest the absence of both powers. Ironically, the actual Pazuzu (an Assyrian and Babylonian pseudo-deity) protected children- although mostly from his own wife, the monstrous Lamashtu, a child-killer who was very similar to the Mesopotamian demoness Lilith, except that she didn't have a gynocentric music festival named after her.

There's some great, great performances in this film- especially from Linda Blair- but if you take the time to watch some of the "making of" documentaries about The Exorcist you might start to wonder if the real villain of this film is actually its sadistic director, William Friedkin. Besides subtly changing the ending of the novel in such a way that makes you wonder if the demon got what it wanted all along, there's the endless stories of his apparent abuse of the actors: instigating back injuries suffered by Blair and Burstyn and using their actual pained screams in the audio track, filming Regan's bedchamber inside of a freezer, firing guns off to get startled reaction shots from actors, and (my favorite) striking the actor playing Father Dyer (the Reverend William O'Malley) across the face in order to shake him up for an important scene. I've heard of method actors . . . but method directors?

Now that's really scary.

Check back tomorrow for #1!

#3: Ju-On (2002)

"I told her . . . I told her . . . I told Kazumi . . . I told her again and again . . . I told her again and again . . . again and again, I told her . . . just the way you said to . . . please stop tormenting me . . . "

Ju-On (roughly translatable as "the grudge"), is the Japanese concept that when someone dies in a state of extreme sorrow or rage, the emotion itself remains behind, infecting the place where they died with a powerful curse that eventually kills everything that it comes into contact with, growing stronger as more and more victims are consumed by it . . . and that's about all I'm going to tell you about the plot of this film. It's probably the most frightening film I was willing to put on this list, and its best that you see it for yourself.

Of course, it is possible you've already seen the American remake of this film, 2004's The Grudge, starring Sarah Michelle Gellar. I admit, I saw this one first as well, and while I thought it had its moments, I wasn't terribly impressed with it. But even if you've seen The Grudge, I highly recommend checking out the Japanese original. After all, I went into this film already knowing just about every major plot point, and it still scared the shit out of me . . . even the goddamn dvd menu gives me the creeps.

What sets this film apart from most modern horror films is the fact that (spoilers ahead!) there is literally no way to escape its titular curse once you've been exposed to it- it may take years but, eventually, it will get you. I think this is exemplified in the film's piece de resistance: the sequence involving Hitomi, who is working late at the office when things start getting weird. This part of the film completely strips away the audience's hopes that there might be some place of safety from the curse, culminating in a rather cruel invasion of the one place most people cower for safety: their own beds. It's always great fun to watch people who haven't seen this part squirm when they realize the blanket they're cowering under might not be as safe as they'd think.

Did I mention that the ghosts in this film are absolutely terrifying? From the little boy / cat composite to the dead wife with her horrible, throaty death rattle, these are things you definitely don't want to wake up in the middle of the night hearing (or seeing), and to have to continuously encounter them in environments most of us are familiar with (a suburban home, an apartment, an office building) really digs under your skin. I can't tell you how glad I am that my attic is both finished and not accessible by a hatch in my closet.

So glad.

Check back later for #2 . . .

#4: The Shining (1980)

"Hello Danny. Come and play with us. Come and play with us, Danny. Forever . . . and ever . . . and ever . . . "

Struggling author and recovering alcoholic Jack Torrance (Jack Nicholson) has recently accepted the position of winter caretaker at the mountain resort Overlook Hotel, despite learning that the previous caretaker went mad and killed his wife and two daughters with an axe before committing suicide via shotgun. Joining him will be his wife (Shelley Duvall as Wendy) and son, Danny (Danny Lloyd), an odd youngster who often speaks through his imaginary friend, Tony.

Arriving at the Overlook the family is introduced to the hotel's chef, Dick Hallorann (Scatman Crothers), who surprises Danny by speaking to him telepathically. When alone with the boy he explains that some people possess what he calls "shining," and Danny is one of them. He also warns Danny that the Overlook itself has gained a shining of its own, a sort of accumulated sentience made up of all of the memories created there . . . not all of which are good.

Soon Jack, Wendy, and Danny are cut off from the outside world by the harsh weather and face a long winter alone . . . with the hotel.

The Shining, based on the 1977 novel of the same name by Stephen King, is a haunted house story, and bears a lot of resemblance to the plot of The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson (later turned into the 1963 film The Haunting by Robert Wise, check it out!) But what a haunted house! An entire hotel, built on an indian burial ground, with a history of murders, suicides, gangland slayings, and stocked with a ghostly bartender, a surreal 1920's new year's eve party, rivers of blood gushing out of elevator shafts, corpses in bathtubs, and, of course, a creepy pair of twins. Yeesh! How the heck did Danny ever get to sleep at night?

Psychic kids have become such a standard feature of horror films that their presence hardly needs to be explained anymore. Consider, for instance, the Ring, which had not one but two psychic children, both of which possessing considerable powers whose origins are completely unexplored. Often these supernatural children are, in fact, the antagonists of horror films, such as the omnipotent Anthony Fremont from The Twilight Zone or the blonde-haired tykes in 1960's Village of the Damned . . . but sometimes these extrasensory children serve as helpful guides, or as amateur therapists for the dead, such as in The Sixth Sense and Stir of Echoes (isn't it odd that the other psychic in this film is also an african american? I would call foul on Stir of Echoes, but it's based on a novel that came out in 1958, so it's possible that it's Stephen King who's the thief here.)

Here, Danny serves as the film's MacGuffin ("a plot element that catches the viewers' attention or drives the plot of a work of fiction"), a powerful psychic that Wendy wants to protect and that the hotel wants to absorb (via murder) in order to become more powerful. Because the hotel itself can't deal physical harm, it exerts all of its influence on the already unstable Jack Torrence, who is clearly not the kind of guy you want to get locked up with for five months, ghosts or no ghosts. Nicholson, famous for playing completely unrestrained characters, seems born for the part. You also have to give a lot of credit to Shelley Duvall for not getting lost amidst the proceedings . . . whatever happened to her? Besides being in Popeye I mean . . .

The sense of isolation is, of course, one of the film's great strengths, but, unlike John Carpenter's The Thing, director Stanley Kubrick was given an entire hotel to play with, with seemingly endless maze-like corridors and false turns (mirrored, of course, by the hedge maze that features prominently in the film's finale.) The next time you watch it, try to make sense of the layout of the place- the hotel's rooms often have windows that can't possibly be present, or are much larger than they could possibly be given the exterior shots.

It's also interesting to note that Stephen King didn't care for this film, which greatly deviates from the ending of the novel. I can understand his feelings, but comparing the two, the Shining is the far better piece of art. I'd frankly be honored to have something I created turned into a film this hauntingly beautiful- but perhaps I'll someday regret these words.

Check back tomorrow for #3!

#5: Jaws (1975)

"And, you know, the thing about a shark, he's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes- like a doll's eyes. When he comes at ya, doesn't seem to be living . . . until he bites ya, and those black eyes roll over white and then, ah, then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin' . . . "

After the mangled remains of Chrissie Watkins are discovered washed up on the beach of the summer resort town of Amity Island, apparently having been attacked by an extremely large shark, police chief Martin Brody (Roy Scheider) attempts to close the beaches- only to be overruled by the town's mayor (Murray Hamilton), who is concerned that an unsubstantiated report of a shark attack might hurt the town's summer tourist revenue. Soon thereafter a young boy is literally devoured in front of a beach full of witnesses.

In response to this marine biologist Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) arrives in Amity, and correctly identifies the culprit as a great white shark, a super predator that can grow to an alarming size- but even this won't move the mayor to close the beaches, and the murders continue despite the best efforts of the coast guard and an armada of shark hunters.

There's only one man who might be able to catch the great white: the irascible professional shark hunter Quint (Robert Shaw). Brody and Hooper insist on accompanying him on the hunt, even though Hooper and Quint don't get along, and Brody is terrified of water . . .

Jaws is an all around good time- it's just a great film. So great, in fact, that I always list it as one of my top ten films. Why then isn't it my number one horror film? Basically, it's because it hardly feels like a horror film to me anymore. Sure, it's a movie about a man-eating shark, but it's also a classic adventure story in vein of Moby Dick (And given the ending, I kind of have to assume that Melville's novel greatly influenced the author of the novel Jaws: Peter Benchley.) In a way, I think of Jaws as being two films: the first one a suspense filled murder mystery in which we slowly learn more about the mostly unseen killer, and the second a buddy flick about three men overcoming their differences to achieve their goal.

It's interesting to note that this film has two antagonists, the first being the actual shark, who is more a force of nature than anything else, and second being the townspeople of Amity- personified by the mayor- who are willing to let four people die before admitting that the beaches aren't safe. It's a clear condemnation of greed that I can't help but find somewhat ironic given that this film essentially spawned (see what I did there?) the concept of the summer blockbuster, making it the great-grand daddy of films like Armageddon or 2012- films which, in my opinion, are made purely out of a desire for money, rather than the desire to tell a good story.

But Jaws is definitely more than a money-maker- it's a genuinely compelling piece of art, with realistic characters, excellent dialogue, and outstanding performances, especially from its three leads, each of whom is incredibly likable in their own way. Their characters are so good, in fact, that I often forget that they're played by actors, a phenomenon that I find rather rare in our current era.

Similarly rare today is the film's incredibly restrained use of the shark itself- we hardly ever see it until the end of the film. It's interesting to note that this was not entirely intentional, as the mechanical shark puppet that they used during filming was constantly breaking down. The brilliant result of this technical catastrophe is that Jaws relies more on the build up of suspense than flashy effects or gore to scare us and, as I've said before, often it's what we can't see that frightens us the most.

Check back tomorrow for #4!

#6: The Ring (2002)

"Seven days . . . "

Journalist and single mother Rachel Embry (Naomi Watts), while investigating the mysterious deaths of several teenagers (including her own niece), discovers that all of them seem to have watched a "cursed" videotape exactly seven days before they died. Dismissing this as mere urban legend, Rachel travels to the remote cabin where niece recently vacationed, locates the tape and watches it. As soon as the tape ends she receives a phone call in which a young girl's voice whispers "seven days." Convinced that she now has only seven days to live, Rachel begins desperately decoding the surreal images seen in the tape . . . but will she be able to unravel the mystery in time?

The Ring totally took me off guard. At the time at which it came out, I hadn't been honestly scared by a horror film for so long that I had begun to suspect that there wasn't anything I could see on film that would frighten me . . . and boy, was I wrong. Besides the fact that I almost had my arm torn out of its socket by my friend Carmen, whose apparent reaction to terror is to tug as hard as she can on the person sitting next to her, I went home literally afraid to look at my television- something which proved rather inconvenient as my bed had recently broken and I was forced to sleep on the couch in front of it.

This film, the first prominent remake of a Japanese horror film (1998's Ringu), gave the horror genre much-needed shot in the arm by introducing common Eastern horror tropes into a western environment, as well as transforming modern objects like televisions and videotapes into sources of terror. Its tone is incredibly nihilistic, especially when it comes to the pitiless nature of its antagonist, Samara (the intensely creepy Daveigh Chase), an incredibly pissed off spirit who wasn't exactly a sweet-heart when she was alive . . . but also notable is the overwhelming sense of dread that seems to saturate (in many cases, literally) everything in tones of gloom. And let's not forget the terrible way that Samara's victims die . . . shudder. Only in a movie this grim could a character like Rachel's creepy psychic son Aiden (David Dorfman) manage to come off as merely an eccentric side note.

This film's success at the box office did have a downside- namely, the rush to remake just about every Japanese horror film that has come out in the last ten years. In just about every case, I prefer the originals, but The Ring is a huge exception. I actually do think that the American remake of Ringu is superior to its Japanese counterpart, both in production values, the quality of the script, and the actors themselves. You've got to love Brian Cox as Samara's on-edge father, though after watching the second X-men film you just have to wonder just how many malevolent psychic kids this guy has sired . . .

Check back next week for my top five horror film countdown!

#7: The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

"It rubs the lotion on its skin. It does this whenever it is told."

Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster), a young FBI agent-in-training, is pulled from her regular duties in order to interview Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), a former psychiatrist who was incarcerated in a high security mental health institution after it was discovered that he was a cannibalistic serial killer. Starling's boss, Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn), believes that Lecter may be intrigued enough by Starling (who is, apparently, exactly the sort of woman he used to prey upon) that he may aid the FBI with its current problem: "Buffalo Bill", a serial killer who skins his victims before disposing of the bodies. As it turns out, Crawford is correct in his assumption, and Lecter begins to provide insight into the mind and motives of Bill- but only in return for intimate knowledge of Starling's own personal demons . . .

Beneath the surface this film shares a lot of the same qualities of Alien- it's a psychological thriller in which a strong woman is forced to deal with a monster. But its also an excellent crime film, providing a fairly realistic portrayal of the hunt for a serial killer.

As mentioned in the post on Psycho, this film (based on the 1988 novel of the same name by Thomas Harris) was loosely based on serial killer Ed Gein, who skinned his victims for similar reasons to the fictional Buffalo Bill. But its also influenced by another real-life monster: Ted Bundy, a charismatic and intelligent man whose mask of sanity concealed a brutal murderer. Bundy was used as the basis for the fascinating character of Hannibal Lecter, who is this film's biggest asset despite only appearing in it for sixteen minutes. It's always great to see a character written as intelligently as Lecter, and his battle of wills with Starling is a joy to watch play out.

Then there's Starling herself, a diminutive woman fighting an uphill battle to be respected in a male-dominated profession (a battle between the sexes that is reflected by Buffalo Bill's complete objectification of women.) Noble, strong, and yet secretly vulnerable, I really have to hand it to Jodie Foster- she's absolutely perfect in the role.

And let's not forget Ted Levine as Buffalo Bill, who manages to portray a man both terrifying and pitiful . . . though I have to admit that I've seen this film so many times that I have a hard time finding the famous scene with the girl in the well as anything other than hilarious. There's just something inherently funny about Levine's voice, you know?

Don't judge me.

Check back tomorrow for #6!

#8: The Thing (1982)

"You guys think I'm crazy? Well, that's fine! Most of you don't know what's going on around here, but I'm damn well sure some of you do . . . you think that thing wanted to be an animal?! No dog's gonna make it a thousand miles through the cold! You don't understand- that thing wanted to be us! "

Antarctica, the first day of winter. An Alaskan sled dog is racing through the snow, pursued by a Norwegian helicopter. This bizarre chase comes to an end at an isolated American research station, where the Norwegians open up on the dog with a rifle, and attempt to blow it up with thermite charges- the reckless use of which results in both of their deaths. Unable to contact the mainland due to the weather, the American research team sends their own helicopter pilot (Kurt Russell as R.J. MacReady) and chief medical officer (Richard Dysart as Copper) to investigate the nearby Norwegian camp. Upon arrival they find that the entire compound has been destroyed, and that its personnel are either missing or dead. Outside the camp, they discover the partially burnt remains of a twisted creature with vaguely human features. What in the world happened here?

Meanwhile, the mysterious sled dog has been quietly wandering around the American camp, seemingly forgotten . . .

I've probably seen The Thing (more appropriately known as John Carpenter's The Thing, as this is a remake of the 1951 film The Thing from Another World, which was itself an adaptation of the novella Who Goes There? by John W. Campbell, Jr.) at least fifty times, and it still manages to fascinate me. Much like Rosemary's Baby, The Thing's horror depends heavily upon the paranoia of its characters- its primary antagonist is a shape-shifting monster that is attempting to infect every member of the research team, and it can imitate its victims perfectly, so literally anyone in the film could be the Thing, a device that Carpenter uses masterfully. But its other strength as a horror film is in its overwhelming sense of isolation. There's no escape for these people, and they know it.

The Thing itself is a incredibly disturbing creature. Unlike any of the other shape-shifters that I have seen in films and television, who seem to be somewhat fluid in nature, The Thing's transformations are violent and grotesque. The familiar (to us) shapes of men or dogs are literally torn apart to accommodate whatever new form the The Thing might require: heads split apart to reveal toothed maws, spider-legs erupt from torsos, and multiple eye-balls blink at us from a bloody mass of viscera. Needless to say, its not pleasant, and the fact that this film came out in the days before computer generated imagery makes it even more uncomfortable to watch. So, hats off to you, special effects guys!

The other thing that impresses me about this film is the quality of its cast. Had it been made today (and there is, sigh, talk of a remake) I imagine that the ensemble of scientists would have been made up of C-List actors, and that at least one of them would have been an attractive woman to provide a love interest for the character of McReady. After all, this is a monster movie, right? Thankfully, Carpenter didn't see it that way, and assembled an excellent ensemble composed entirely of men, including Wilford Brimley, Donald Moffat, Keith David, and Richard Masur. They're all incredibly believable, and lend a great deal of verisimilitude to the situation.

I find it incredibly surprising that this film was pretty much universally panned when it originally came out- but its possible that it was a bit too ahead of its time, as it seems as though most of the complaints focus on the squick-factor of Thing itself, and not on the film's real strengths: mood, character development, and mystery. It's really too bad, because- had The Thing been a success- it's entirely possible that director John Carpenter (probably best known for the famous 1978 slasher-film Halloween) might have been regarded as a more lucrative director, and thus landed better deals than, say, 1983's Christine. On the flip side, however, who's to say that such a turn of events might have robbed us of such classics as Big Trouble In Little China, or They Live. Perhaps its best not to screw with history.

Check back tomorrow for #7!

#9: Rosemary's Baby (1968)

"He has his father's eyes."

Young Rosemary Woodhouse (Mia Farrow) and her struggling actor husband Guy (John Cassavetes), have decided to move into the Bramford, a gothic apartment building that their elderly friend Hutch (Maurice Evans, probably better known for playing the xenophobic Dr. Zaius in 1968's Planet of the Apes) informs them has a somewhat ominous history involving murder and cannibalism. But the only thing odd about the Bramford seems to be their elderly neighbors, the rather eccentric Castevets, who, though nosy, are able to befriend the young couple- even Guy, who originally wanted nothing to do with them, becomes strangely attached to the pair . . .

It's kind of hard to talk about this film without giving away spoilers, so be warned before reading on.

Rosemary's Baby, based on the Ira Levin novel of the same name, is a fascinating piece because much of its tension comes from the film's ability to keep the audience wondering whether or not there actually is anything sinister going on. It's a study in paranoia that puts you into the shoes of an increasingly frightened young woman who slowly starts to believe that everyone around her is part of a plot to steal her newborn child for a satanic sacrifice, and I actually think its delightful that the "horrible truth" revealed at the end of the film is actually something of a huge relief to both the audience and Rosemary. I'm not going completely spoil it, but the fact that there actually is a conspiracy is a far preferable to the idea that Rosemary was being driven to insanity by her own imagination.

Another interesting thing about this film is that its essentially a horror movie about being pregnant. Considering the year it came out, I can't help but think that it reflects the deeply felt anxiety the baby boomer generation must have felt as they became parents themselves, and thus demonizes the very concept of adulthood. This is a theme that crops up often in Ira Levin's work- take 1975's The Stepford Wives, in which Katherine Ross fears losing her real self- and her feminist ideals- after she and her husband move to suburbia with their kids. Again, the revelation of that film that women are being replaced by androids (sorry if you haven't seen it) ends up being something of a relief compared to the prospect that growing old somehow turns you into a submissive, conservative wifey wife.

For further demonic children, stay tuned . . .

#10: Kwaidan (1964)

"It was midnight, and the city was as silent as a cemetery . . . "

Before even attempting to summarize this supremely elegant film, I'm going to let you know right off the bat that it is an anthology piece- four different stories without a single framing device- a genre that seems to lend itself extremely well to the horror genre. Tales From the Darkside, Creepshow, and even the more recent Grindhouse films have all made good use of the model of providing three or four short and sweet horror stories in one package- but not since Kwaidan has there been one that I would consider to be a true piece of art. And that is precisely what Kwaidan (closest translation from the Japanese: "Ghost Story") is: art. If you're looking for cats jumping out at the camera, gore, or fast-paced action then go elsewhere, because Kwaidan will likely bore you to tears. But if you're willing to put in some effort, I guarantee that the payoff of this film is immense. It's outstandingly creepy, beautiful, and possesses an acid wit to boot.

There are four stories in the film, all of which are radically different takes on the classic ghost story. The first, The Black Hair, the story of a wronged woman and her finally repentant ex-husband, is probably by far the most recognizable to western audiences, especially given the recent influx of remakes based on Japanese horror films. It's by far the creepiest of the lot, dealing with material that feels strangely like the work of Edgar Allen Poe, and allows the tension to build up to an almost unbearable level before finally coming apart at the seams.

The second, The Woman of the Snow, was in fact remade for the Tales From the Darkside film, and deals with a beautiful yet demonic snow demon that promises to spare the life of a handsome young man as long as he won't tell anyone about their encounter . . . a promise that the protagonist is destined to eventually break.

The third story, and definitely my favorite of the four, is the tale of the blind monk, Hoichi, who is a master of the biwa (the short-necked lute,) and renowned for his masterful retelling of the fall of the Heike clan during the epic sea battle of Dan-no-ura . . . so much so that the spectres of the slain Heike nobles request Hoichi to perform for them night after night . . . an interesting situation as Hoichi himself cannot realize that the rich patrons he is playing for are spirits from beyond!

The final story, In A Cup Of Tea, is definitely the most ambiguous of the four- and certainly leaves you hanging . . .

Much like Interview with the Vampire, I won't claim that this film is particularly frightening, but it is a masterpiece of cinema, and if you are in the right mood it certainly isn't something you'd want to watch alone. The tone is certainly highly stylized, but it is done so in such a way that it heightens the creepy atmosphere of the piece rather than detracts from it.

I also particularly enjoy the fact that these are all ghost stories from the Warring States period of Japanese history or (at the very latest) the pre-modern Tokugawa shogunate period- how many western films have you seen that took place outside of our own fairly modern time period? For every Sleepy Hollow or Ravenous there's a seemingly inexhaustible legion of horror films that assume that people need to see familiar surroundings in order to be afraid.

And true horror is timeless.

Check back tomorrow for #9!

#11: Quarantine (2008)

"They won't let us out."

Late night television reporter Angela Vidal (Jennifer Carpenter), accompanied by her cameraman Scott (Steve Harris), is on assignment at a Los Angeles fire department, following the nightly routine of two firemen (played by Jay Hernandez and Johnathon Schaech) when the station receives an emergency call. Arriving at an old apartment building, the superintendent directs the firemen, news crew, and a pair of policemen to the second floor, where an elderly tenant in considerable distress (her screams alone have managed to rouse several of the building's other tenants) has locked herself within her apartment. Breaking down the door reveals a terrified old woman- barely able to communicate- her clothes stained with blood . . . and apparently not her own.

Fairly soon it's obvious to everyone involved that the best course of action would be to leave- but the front doors have been blocked from the outside, cell-phones don't work, and any attempt to exit the building is met with violent force from the authorites- who insist that the people inside stay put.

I have to admit, when I saw the trailer for this film (which, if you didn't already know, is a remake of the 2007 Spanish film REC) I didn't expect much. It looked like yet another attempt to cash-in on the "Blair Witch" found footage genre, and when compared to the hype surrounding the same year's Cloverfield, Quarantine gave off the vibe of being the inferior of the two films. Imagine my great surprise when I picked it up on DVD and had my socks blown off by it (I mean, not literally, but, you know . . .)

I actually think the film's rather tepid opening is ingenious. Normally this would be the portion of the story that would make us sympathize with the leads, and give you information that will later become important- but instead we are confronted by characters that aren't particularly likable, or even well developed- even Angela, our main character, comes off as a bit of an intellectual lightweight, and I can't imagine the fictional late-night program that she and Scott are supposedly filming is anything but fluff revolving around a pretty young woman. Multiple people I've watched this with have commented to the effect that they can't wait for these people to die, and I think its a testament to this film's structure that, by the end of the film, you really really really want them to make it out alive.

The opening also has exposition that literally has nothing to do with anything that later occurs! Take for instance the time spent discussing the old-fashioned hook ladder. In a normal movie, this would have become an 11th hour plot twist, possibly even the means by which our heroes would ultimately escape the apartment building- here, it seems placed to make us think that we know where the plot going, and I applaud any attempt to shake up predictable film conventions.

Admittedly, Quarantine does take awhile to get up to speed, but when it does it plays out like pure nightmare fuel. It would be frightening enough if it only dealt with the experience of being trapped inside of a building by the government with no explanation, so adding what are essentially the world's most believable zombies into the mix ramps up the horror aspect considerably. The last fifteen minutes of this film are absolutely terrifying . . . make sure you watch it in the dark.

Check back later for #10!

Update: I really do have a lot of beef with the trailer- I would have been a lot more likely to go see this film if they had just let me know that it was a zombie flick, and I certainly think its completely unforgivable that it actually shows us the ending of the film! What were they thinking?

#12: The Blob (1988)

"Vicki!!!"

A strange meteorite comes to ground on the outskirts of the small town of Arborville, California, unleashing a horrifying organism that gains mass as it absorbs its prey. When it's first victim, an elderly hobo, is discovered by the town's local delinquent (Kevin Dillon as Brian Flagg) the task falls to him to convince the townsfolk that they are all in terrible danger before the blob devours them all- but who is going to believe the town pariah? I mean, besides a popular cheerleader that he's secretly had a crush on since grade school?

This film is a hell of lot of fun, and for that reason alone it managed to claw (slither?) its way past other movies that are, technically, far superior to it. But this is a film that knows that its nothing more than a run-of-the-mill monster movie, and revels in all of the classic cliches of horror films. It even has a hilarious slasher film within the film that mercilessly rips on the genre ("Wait a second . . . hockey season ended months ago!") It also helps that the film's jokes are genuinely funny- perhaps the result of how many screenwriters worked on the film (including Chuck Russell and Frank Darabont.)

Ribbed. Ha ha.

The film's biggest strength, though, is its special effects, which are incredibly good considering how low-rent of a movie this is. I sometimes wonder if so much of the budget was blown on the monster that they couldn't afford real actors. I mean, it says something that one of the more recognizable cast members is that guy who gets melted in Robocop.

That said, you really also couldn't ask for a better protagonist than Kevin Dillon (better known these days for his hilarious turn as Johnny Chase on Entourage,) who really fits the tone of The Blob perfectly. His transformation from "rebel-without-a-cause" punk to unlikely hero is a lot of fun to watch, and he's a perfect foil to the shadowy government agents who show up in the film's third act.

All fun aside, The Blob can be fairly horrifying - especially when you think about what it would be like to be digested while you were still alive. The Blob kills a lot of people that you might have thought would have survived the film, and director Chuck Russell is certainly not shy when it comes to gore. I saw this when it came out on HBO back in the early nineties, and I have to admit it freaked me out. The scene with the woman in the engulfed phone booth is like something out of a nightmare, and the chase scene that follows the movie theater massacre always manages to have me on the edge of my seat.

If you want to check this one out, do yourself a favor and get together with some friends who don't take movies that seriously, make some popcorn, and have a few drinks. I guarantee a good time will ensue.

Check in tomorrow for #11!

#13: Psycho (1960)

"A boy's best friend is his mother."

Marion Crane (Janet Leigh), a secretary at a burgeoning Arizona real estate office, spontaneously decides to abscond from her job with 40,000 dollars in cash in the hopes that she might make a new life with her alimony-stricken boyfriend, Sam Loomis (John Gavin.) Her spur of the moment flight quickly draws the attention of the highway patrol, and in order to avoid the authorities she finds herself traveling the older back roads. Tired from her cross country journey, she pulls into the Bates Motel, where the shy young proprietor (Anthony Perkins as Norman Bates) asks her to join him for dinner . . .

If you haven't seen Psycho, I urge you to stop reading this blog immediately. Go rent, buy, borrow, or steal the movie and watch it. I have serious doubts that there is anyone above the age of six in America that doesn't know what is to become of Marion Crane, or the twisted secret of the Bates Motel- but if you really don't know what I'm talking about, don't let me spoil it- just go out see the movie.

Though certainly dated, this film is, in my own opinion, Hitchcock's greatest work. Stunning for the time, it pretty much paved the road for all future films dealing with serial killers, and is painted with a master's brushstrokes. Consider the use of bird imagery- from the main character's last name, the menagerie of stuffed birds in Norman Bates' back office, to the subject matter of the painting that Norman slips aside to peer at the disrobing Ms. Crane.

The novel that this film is an adaption of, also called Psycho (by Robert Bloch- a good friend of H.P. Lovecraft by the way), was based on the real life serial killer Ed Gein- a man whose morbid fascinations inspired future horror figureheads such as Leatherface from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre and, perhaps more famously, the figure of Jame Gumb (Buffalo Bill) from Silence of the Lambs. Of all of these adaptations, I find the Norman Bates model to be the most like the real man- who was brought up by an incredibly strict set of parents, whose own hardline religious beliefs apparently stopped them from getting divorced despite their hatred of each other. Yeah, sounds like a great relationship, right?

Before we move on to the next film, however, I can't help but mention the 1998 remake of Psycho by Gus Van Sant . . . While I didn't necessarily hate everything about it, I can only hope that I will- someday in the unforeseeable future- become a billionaire, and thus will be loaded enough to fund a shot-by-shot remake of Good Will Hunting that includes a completely unnecessary masturbation scene.

Check in tomorrow for #12!

#14: The Blair Witch Project (1999)

"I wanna make movies, Heather. Isn't that what we're here to do? Just to make some movies?"

In 1994, three films students (Heather Donahue, Joshua Leonard, and Michael C. Williams) set out into the backwoods of Maryland in order to capture footage of locations related to the so-called "Blair Witch," a figure of local legend that has apparently motivated a series of murders and disappearances over the past two hundred years. Heading deeper and deeper into the woods, the trio soon become hopelessly lost. Worse, though, is the fact that they're not alone.

Presented as "found footage," The Blair Witch Project can be thought of as the spiritual successor to 1980's Cannibal Halocaust (which was accused of being a snuff film when it was originally released and led to the arrest of its director, Ruggero Deodato.) I think this film, had it been released in the days before the internet, and had not included directorial credits, could have been much more of a sensation- it's certainly believable (as there doesn't need to be a supernatural explanation for what is going on), and if they could keep the cast out of the public eye for a year (send 'em on vacation to the tropics perhaps) who's to say it wasn't real?

Anyhow, I think the improvisational skills of the three leads are top notch. Their descent into desperation is incredibly believable, especially considering that there was only a skeleton of a script to work with. I also appreciate the fact that they've been pretty much out of the public eye since this film (in Heather Donahue's case, this was apparently intentional.) It's almost like they really did disappear . . .

A lot of people I've talked about this film with have claimed that it is boring, in that you never really see anything, and not all that much happens. I think these people are missing the point, which is that this film is really only as frightening as your own imagination, particularly if your imagination is as dark as mine tends to be. When you let the viewer fill in the blanks the result can be (and in this case, is) terrifying.

By the way, there's a 1998 film called The Last Broadcast that shares a lot of similarities to The Blair Witch Project. Check it out sometime if you're curious.

Check back tomorrow for # 13!

#15: The Mist (2007)

"There's something in the mist!"

And, I can assure you, it's not gorillas.

So, here's the second film in the countdown based on Stephen King's work (and not the last, either!) Here's the plot rundown:

In the wake of a violent thunderstorm, artist David Drayton (Thomas Jane) drives into the town of Bridgton (which- unlike many of Stephen King's other locales- is a real place) for supplies, accompanied by his litigious neighbor (Andre Braugher) and his young son (Nathan Gamble.) But while waiting in line at the local supermarket a strange mist descends . . . and before long it becomes clear that there is something malevolent within it.

I'm not entirely certain why I enjoy this film so much- its special effects aren't necessarily the best, and its dialogue can often be regarded as stilted. Perhaps it's just the overall sense of doom that pervades the film. It certainly doesn't seem as though any of its characters are safe from a horrifying death at the hands (tentacles?) of the Lovecraftian monsters lurking in the mist- and the grisly fates that befall much of the cast are morbidly entertaining in their own right.

Speaking of monsters, I often think of this film as a companion piece to a pair of films that came out in 2008: Cloverfield and The Dark Knight. Sure, all three of these films have radically different plots, characters, and outcomes, but I can't help but think that all of them are subconsciously dealing with the same issue (thinly veiled terrorism, okay?) After all, all of these films ask the basic question: "When push comes to shove, are people inherently good or evil?" The Dark Knight and Cloverfield seem to suggest that, for all of our flaws, human nature is inherently good . . . but The Mist tends to weigh in on the "most people are only as good as the world allows them to be" camp, and so, despite this film's heavy reliance on creatures from another dimension, the most frightening monsters in it are, for lack of a better term, us. Sure, there's a super religious woman (Mrs. Carmody, played by Marcia Gay Harden- King seems to have a real issue with blindly religious women) who provides a focus for our outrage, but she is only the rallying point for a small army of apparently sycophantic zealots ready to kill for a place in heaven.

Anyhow, if you have a taste for creature flicks, check this one out. But I suppose I should warn you: the ending is something of a bummer.

Check in tomorrow for #14!

Update: By the way, Nathan Gamble also happens to be Jim Gordon's son in The Dark Knight . . . and the primary female protagonist of The Mist (Laurie Holden) also appears in 2006's Silent Hill, another movie in which a mist-enshrouded town appears to be populated by monsters. Type-casting anyone?

# 16: Videodrome (1983)

"The television screen is the retina of the mind's eye. Therefore, the television screen is part of the physical structure of the brain. Therefore, whatever appears on the television screen emerges as raw experience for those who watch it. Therefore, television is reality, and reality is less than television."

Max Renn (James Woods), the president of CIVIC-TV- a fairly sleazy cable television station based out of Toronto- is constantly on the search for hardcore material for his mostly softcore channel. Then, through the use of CIVIC-TV's pirate satellite dish, he discovers a television program called Videodrome. An incredibly realistic depiction of torture and execution, Videodrome has no plot, no dialogue, and no one "stars" on it more than once. Max, believing that he's found what he is looking for, begins to search for the mysterious show's origins, discovering to his surprise that Videodrome is being broadcast out of Pittsburgh, PA.

It's at this point that things start getting . . . weird.

When I first saw this film I hadn't seen much of director David Cronenberg's work, which has a reputation for specializing in what is commonly referred to as "Body Horror:" horror in which the human body is slowly mutated, degenerated, or destroyed. I have a real problem with torture of any kind, so needless to say, I was completely unprepared for just how much Videodrome would disturb me. Frankly, if the idea of a woman willingly putting out a lit cigarette on her own breast makes you cringe, feel free to give this one a miss and check out Cronenberg's more mainstream remake of 1958's The Fly starring Jeff Goldblum (A film that raises the immortal question: if you one day discover that your teeth/fingernails are loose, why in the world would you ever try to pull them out?!)

On the surface, this film bears some striking similarities to Jacob's Ladder. After all, both feature main characters who are being haunted by bizarre nightmarish hallucinations, and insidious cold-war conspiracy theories. But while Jacob's Ladder is certainly frightening, Videodrome takes the whole thing a step further by making you, the viewer, start to wonder if you aren't going to be permanently affected just by watching the movie, much in the same manner as watching the cursed video from 1998's Ringu (remade in America as 2002's The Ring.)

So, be warned. And long live the new flesh.

Check back tomorrow for #15!

#17: Alien (1979)

"It's got a wonderful defense mechanism: You don't dare kill it."

The crew of a commercial towing starship Nostromo (basically a very large freight rig in space) awakens from their months long sleep to find that they are not nearing earth as expected, but are instead within range of an uncharted planet from which a distress beacon is emitting. At the behest of their corporate employers, they land on the planet and discover the wreck of an alien spacecraft, and a strange chamber full of what appear to be . . . eggs.

Though often overshadowed by its highly enjoyable sequel (James Cameron's 1986 Aliens), Ridley Scott's Alien is a masterful exploration of the human response to fear. Every character has a unique reaction to the situation, and seeing how that plays out is one of Alien's great pleasures.

I'm also impressed by how the film manages to combine many genres into a single package: it can be seen as a slasher film, a psychological thriller, a survival story, a splatterfest, and a feminist fable- all wrapped up in a genuinely believable science fiction setting. I particularly have always enjoyed the "truckers in space" element of the film- the people in this film aren't military types or great scientists, they just haul millions of tons of ore around the galaxy.

Though H. R. Giger's design of the titular alien has been imitated and copied so often as to be passe, it really must have been amazing to see for the first time. Giger is perfect fit for this film, especially seeing as his art echoes the films own mashup of the biological with the mechanic, its chilling starkness, and its nightmarish sexual imagery. And while the mature alien is the star attraction of this film, I've always found the concept of the facehugger to be far more disturbing . . . a creature that orally rapes you, impregnates you regardless of gender, and then causes you to die giving birth to its children is, to say the least, somewhat unsettling.

A lot of people I've watched this with have commented on the slow pace of the film, and I have to admit that it is rather long (119 minutes long to be precise.) But while I do think some of the earlier sequences could have been trimmed, I've also appreciate the slow build up that leads to the sheer terror of the last third of the film, as things spiral completely out of control.

Also . . . I have always wondered what use the crew of Nostromo had for what I like to think of the "wet dangling chain storage room."

Check in tomorrow for #16!

#18: Carrie (1976)

"They're All Going To Laugh At You!"

Meet Carrie White (Sissy Spacek), a shy teenager who everyone picks on. She's harassed at school by her classmates, overlooked or belittled by her teachers, and mentally abused by her extremely religious mother (a role played with much gusto by Piper Laurie.) Even when the popular Tommy Ross (William Katt in his most memorable film role) asks her out to the prom she can't help but think that it has to be part of a cruel trick of some kind . . . and, in a sense, it is. What no one suspects, however, is that Carrie is beginning to manfest telekinesis: the ability to move things with one's mind. This is one girl who's about to be pushed too far.

This whole movie is pretty much like waiting for a bomb to go off. Its chills come more from the anticipation of the moment that Carrie is finally going to let loose with her powers, and director Brian De Palma does a great job of making us hope that everything will turn out for the best before it doesn't. I imagine that if this film came out today it probably would be seen as an allegory for the many tragic school shootings that have occurred over the past decade or so, and I suppose it could be argued that Stephen King had something of that in mind when he wrote the novel on which Carrie was based- King was also to write a fictionalized version of the 1966 University of Texas massacre perpetrated by Charles Whitman. But the real tragedy of Carrie, as I see it, is that she wasn't born a monster- she only became one after years and years of abuse.

I'd have to say that my favorite thing about Carrie is how incredibly seventies the whole film is (perhaps not surprising given that the film came out in 1976.) The clothes, the hair, the soundtrack by Pino Donaggio . . . it's even got John Travolta the year before he was in Saturday Night Fever. How much more seventies can you get?

By the way, this film and 1977's Star Wars were cast at the the same time, during a joint audition process held by Brian De Palma and George Lucas, and Sissy Spacek and William Katt were seriously considered for the roles of Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker respectively. Besides imagining Spacek and Katt in Star Wars, you have to wonder what it would have been like to have Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher in Carrie.

Check back tomorrow for #17!

#19: Jacob's Ladder (1990)

"Home? This is your home. You're dead."

So here's a film that will get under your skin.

We open on Jacob Singer (Tim Robbins), a soldier stationed in Vietnam whose unit abruptly comes under heavy fire. As Jacob makes for cover he cannot help but notice that many of his fellow soldiers are exhibiting strange behavior: foaming at the mouth, suffering seizures, or crying uncontrollably rather than fighting back. Before he can make sense of it all, however, he is stabbed in the gut by an unseen foe.

Flash forward to 1975. Jacob has survived the war and now lives in Brooklyn with his co-worker / girlfriend Jezebel (Elizabeth Pena), working as a postman. But Jacob seems to be seeing . . . things . . . demonic things that can't possibly be human, and who seem to be out to end his life. To compound his distress he can't seem to stop dwelling on his dead son Gabe (played by an uncredited Macaulay Culkin), and keeps dreaming about the day he was stabbed in the jungle. But is Jacob really being haunted by demons, or is he merely succumbing to post-traumatic stress disorder?

I have to say, when this film is firing on all cylinders it seriously creeps me out. Like many great horror films, it's as much a mystery story as anything else, and I'm not going to ruin the film by explaining it to you. Its creature design was incredibly unique for the time, and the director, Adrian Lyne, really knows how to show just enough to let your own imagination fill in what you don't see. It's hard to think of another movie that so perfectly recreates the feeling of being inside of a nightmare- the early subway scene, and the gurney trip through the hospital stand out as particularly brilliant set pieces.

The performances are really quite good- particularly Robbins and Elizabeth Pena. You also have to love Danny Aiello as Jacob's one ray of hope: the angelic chiropractor Louis. If I ever have a chiropractor I would definitely want it to be this man.

At times the film is a little heavy-handed when it comes to its religious symbolism, but I find it pretty easy to forgive. My only real complaint regards how the film ends. Again, I won't spoil it, but let's just say that it really makes you wonder what you were just watching for the last couple of hours.

Check in tomorrow for # 18!

#20: Interview with the Vampire (1994)

"The world changes. We do not. There lies the irony that finally kills us."

Vampires have been a staple of the horror genre for so long that I sometimes wonder if anyone actually finds them all that frightening these days, and seeing as they've been sexualized since the earliest days of cinema, it's hardly surprising to this author that vampire fiction seems to be on the verge of shifting almost completely into the sub genre of paranormal romance. Good looking, angst ridden characters like Twilight's Edward Cullen and True Blood's Bill Compton seem to be currently overshadowing the conventional image of the vampire as an unholy bloodsucking fiend . . . but before Edward and Bill there was Louis and Lestat.

Here's the rundown: Reporter Daniel Malloy (Christian Slater) has set up an interview with Louis (Brad Pitt), a melancholy vampire who wishes to tell his life story. The tale begins in 1791, in Louisiana (what is it with Louisiana and vampires?), where a 24 year old Louis is suffering from suicidal depression due to the loss of his wife and child. Soon he meets the vampire Lestat (an astoundingly convincing Tom Cruise), who manages to convince him to become a vampire rather than die. It's not long before Louis finds himself disgusted with his new "life" and Lestat's cruelty, and he resolves to abandon his creator. In a bid to keep his new companion Lestat creates another vampire, this one a young girl named Claudia (Kirsten Dunst.) This gambit pays off, and for awhile Louis, Lestat and Claudia live in a semblance of domestic bliss, until Claudia realizes that she can never grow up . . . I won't spoil the rest, but needless to say it doesn't end well for just about everyone involved.

To be frank, I've never found this film to be as frightening as it is depressing. That said, it does have its moments, and the atmosphere is delightfully gothic. So why is this on the list? Well, despite the genuinely interesting story of a vampire trying to retain his humanity, it's the only vampire story I've ever seen that tries to explore what it would be like to live a static life in a constantly changing world, and follows the character from being "born to darkness" to the present day. That the costumes, sets and cinematography are all top notch doesn't hurt either.

I also find it incredibly interesting to view the film as a dysfunctional homosexual love story, something that had gone entirely over my head when I was sixteen, but seems so obvious now that I don't know how they ever got Tom Cruise to play Lestat.

Check in tomorrow for #19!

Dave's Top Twenty Horror Films

I've been toying around with the idea of making a list of my favorite horror films for some time now, and seeing as this is October I thought that it might be as good of a time as any to start. I'll be watching these films as I post, and I welcome you to all come along for the ride. So, if you're game, go rent, buy, or borrow these films, make some popcorn, turn off the lights, and get ready to go to bed wondering if, in the middle of the night, a cold clammy hand is going to softly caress your foot while you are sleeping.

Before we launch into this, however, I'd like to note that while these are my favorite horror films, I do not think they are necessarily the most frightening ones out there. For instance, I'm leaving off titles like Takashi Miike's Audition or John McNaughton's Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, both of which were films that disturbed me greatly but also have enough flaws that I can't really consider them amongst my favorites.

Also, I'm only going to review films that came out within or prior to 2008, as I'm certain there are plenty of horror films that have come out in more recent years that I still haven't seen (I'm still very much looking forward to seeing Let the Right One In for instance.)

That said, enough preamble- let's get onto the list!

Dining On Saint John

Saint John, one of the most pristine of the U.S. Virgin Islands, has a lot to recommend it as a tourist destination. Unlike its overdeveloped neighbor, Saint Thomas, its gorgeous beaches are overlooked by a nearly untouched jungle landscape, and its rental houses and hotels are some of the most luxurious in the Caribbean. This abundance of both natural and man-made beauty attracts a great variety of tourists every year, from young honeymooners to the wealthy and famous- but no matter what the income level of the vacationer there’s one thing everyone can enjoy, and that’s a meal out on the town.

Cruz Bay, the islands main port (and point of entry for most tourists) is host to many of the islands best restaurants, from the exceptional Morgan’s Mango to one of country-singer Kenny Chesney’s favorite haunt, The Quiet Mon. But those looking for a more colorful dining experience would do well to spend an evening at The Lime Inn, dining within a bustling open-air court near the center of town. You can hardly go wrong with any of their locally caught seafood entrees- their freshly caught lobster in particular is a delight- and the menu often features some of the best poultry dishes on the island, from a mouth-wateringly tender Cornish game hen to the chef’s special: a supremely well prepared chicken Wellington . . . and be sure to save room for a slice of their homemade Key Lime Pie! Make certain to make reservations, however, as wait times tend to be long, especially on Wednesdays when the restaurant offers an all-you-can-eat, peel-and-eat shrimp feast.

For a more upscale meal, you may want to try Le Chateau de Bordeaux. Perched near the tip of Bordeaux Mountain, the island’s highest point, this restaurant blends classic Continental fare with the Caribbean, and features eclectic Victorian décor (each table is topped with an antique crocheted table cloth) and a breath-taking patio view of the eastern half of the island. Their appetizers include home-smoked chicken spring rolls and a exquisitely smooth carrot soup that excellently compliments one of the restaurants best dishes: a Dijon mustard and pecan-crusted roast rack of lamb served with shallot port reduction. All of this excellence does come at a high price, and the availability of wine, cheese, and bread tends to be limited during off-season. Also somewhat disappointing is the rather slow service at their patio lunch bar . . . but consider stopping by post-lunch for one of the restaurant’s passion fruit daiquiris.

Not all of Saint John’s best dining experiences are expensive, however. Consider Skinny Legs, a laid-back bar and grill nestled in sleepy Coral Bay, and a favorite hangout spot for many locals. Their menu is limited, but their juicy burgers are without a doubt the tastiest on the island, and the grilled mahi-mahi sandwiches will delight seafood lovers. Better than the food, however, is the casual atmosphere, which often features live music, movie nights, and a range of outdoor activities (I’ve seen everything from Bocce ball to Wii bowling) that will delight young and old alike. The bar of course features all manner of familiar tropical drinks, but do yourself a favor and treat yourself to a Painkiller, a rum, pineapple, and coconut based concoction served with finely grated nutmeg shavings. Besides being the signature drink of Saint John, it’s also delicious!

Dave Summarizes Niccolo Machiavelli's The Prince . . . So You Don't Have To

Dear Lorenzo de' Medici,

If you want to be an effective ruler, don't put too much trust in foreign powers, your immediate subordinates, mercenary armies, or your own people. In fact, don't trust anyone. It is better to be feared than loved. Its far better to be stingy than generous as long as you can dole out rewards from time to time. Breaking promises is okay, and can usually be justified . . . the ends justify the means. Don't inspire hatred of yourself by seizing your own people's goods and land, or by over-taxing them. Don't count on fortresses to save you when things go wrong. Listen to your close advisors, but avoid taking unasked for advice from everyone. It makes you look weak. Avoid flatterers at all costs. It's generally better to be impulsive than cautious. Oh, and, if you end up using this advice to conquer Italy, is there any way you could give me a job?

Sincerely,

Niccolo Machiavelli