Re93animator's Review Thread

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That's the one. Apparently his last directorial work was back in 2014 when he did a segment for ABCs of Death 2. He's still very involved in acting it seems. I'm also big on Lovecraft inspired films but there are so few that are actually good.
Yeah. He did a pretty crappy horror flick called Beneath as well. It seemed like a cash-in though; not the type of thing he usually does. He did write an awesome cinematic video game called Until Dawn though. If you have a PS4, it's highly recommended, and has one particular aspect that undoubtedly came from Fessenden.

I used to be big on Stuart Gordon, which helped me foray into Lovecraft. I also like The Haunted Palace (Corman & Price), The Resurrected (1991), and 2005's Call of Cthulhu.



Yeah. He did a pretty crappy horror flick called Beneath as well. It seemed like a cash-in though; not the type of thing he usually does. He did write an awesome cinematic video game called Until Dawn though. If you have a PS4, it's highly recommended, and has one particular aspect that undoubtedly came from Fessenden.

I used to be big on Stuart Gordon, which helped me foray into Lovecraft. I also like The Haunted Palace (Corman & Price), The Resurrected (1991), and 2005's Call of Cthulhu.
I'm more of a PC gamer, so hopefully the game comes to PC. Funny you mention The Resurrected (Shatterbrain?) because I just got it a few days ago and planned on watching it this week. I liked Call of Cthulhu as well. Another one I liked was She Creature, it was pretty good for a TV movie.



I'm more of a PC gamer, so hopefully the game comes to PC. Funny you mention The Resurrected (Shatterbrain?) because I just got it a few days ago and planned on watching it this week. I liked Call of Cthulhu as well. Another one I liked was She Creature, it was pretty good for a TV movie.
Me too. I've actually just begun playing Call of Cthulhu: DCOTE on PC. Cool and atmospheric, but loaded with bugs.

And yes, The Resurrected was directed by Dan O'Bannon (of Alien fame) as well. I'll keep an eye out for She Creature. Thanks!



Bride of Re-Animator (1989)


So, after a quick and superfluous message from our favorite floating cranium, the story picks up eight months after the events of first film, where our two main characters (Cain and West) have found themselves in… Peru? Ok then. They are seen treating gravely wounded soldiers on the verge of death. One ends up dying. Just try to guess where this is going… Later, after West’s experiments extend to mixing and matching various body parts (in hilarious fashion), the duo attempts to assemble a new person from numerous sources (à la Frankenstein). Speedbumps they run into along the way include a token love interest, an ornery detective, another token love interest, the perils of sneaking dead bodies out of a crowded hospital in broad daylight, and Dr. Hill’s flying head. Of course, all of these festering elements lead to the customarily over the top gross-out finale.

Fortunately, the shameless Psycho rip off theme makes a (heavily altered) reprisal, this time with cheesier synths. Unfortunately, the rest of the score is… umm… pretty awful. It seriously hinders most would be funny or entertaining moments. The supporting acting is a little difficult to bear as well, but god*mn, Combs still embellishes every scene he’s in. They could make a Re-Animator in Space, and I’d probably consider it a must watch just for Combs. One positively notable aspect is Yuzna’s heightened sense of style, which features more strongly colored lighting and elaborately decorated sets. It’s all done with a foggy, low budget, Bava-esque charm. There are some more quotable one liners as well, although the dialogue really pushes the comedy aspect through the roof, often neglecting the horror label.


Overall, Bride of Re-Animator has some virtues, and it attempts to carry on the spirit of the original film, but it’s just nowhere near as fun. The plot seems far less inspired, and tries to juggle too many new and uninteresting characters. At the very least, it’d make an apt double-billing with Frankenhooker (can’t say that about many movies). Fans of the original should still give it a go.




Me too. I've actually just begun playing Call of Cthulhu: DCOTE on PC. Cool and atmospheric, but loaded with bugs.

And yes, The Resurrected was directed by Dan O'Bannon (of Alien fame) as well. I'll keep an eye out for She Creature. Thanks!
Yeah, I remember watching the trailer for it and thought it looked nice. Do the bugs hinder the game in any way? Small bugs I can deal with, but if it's anything like the bugs in Fallout I don't know if I can handle it. I can do it for Fallout, but I don't know about this.



Yeah, I remember watching the trailer for it and thought it looked nice. Do the bugs hinder the game in any way? Small bugs I can deal with, but if it's anything like the bugs in Fallout I don't know if I can handle it. I can do it for Fallout, but I don't know about this.
Well, judging by the Steam reviews and youtube walkthroughs, there are varying experiences. But, my experience was pretty terrible. I loved the atmosphere and gameplay, so I tried to power through. But, about halfway through the game, it crashed every time I opened my inventory, rendering it impossible to finish. That's just the tip of the iceberg too. Apparently it works better on older systems. I wish they'd release a more polished version though.
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Well, judging by the Steam reviews and youtube walkthroughs, there are varying experiences. But, my experience was pretty terrible. I loved the atmosphere and gameplay, so I tried to power through. But, about halfway through the game, it crashed every time I opened my inventory, rendering it impossible to finish. That's just the tip of the iceberg too. Apparently it works better on older systems. I wish they'd release a more polished version though.
Yikes. I think I'll just wait until they fix the bugs, assuming they plan to. They seriously need to stop releasing these games when they're clearly not ready.



Beyond Re-Animator (2003)


Beyond Re-Animator’s establishing scene follows a re-animated zombie committing B&E out of a dire craving for some milk (not letting his lack of a mouth stop him). This scene also features some of the most impassioned virtuoso child acting you’re likely to ever see. If you’re like me, I’m sure that the stellar efforts put in by these prodigious youths will alter your perception of what can be accomplished in youth acting. Bravo! Anyway, the important part of the scene is the resulting arrest of one Herbert West, and the return of the terrible glow stick formula. The movie then takes us 13 years into the future, wherein West must further his experiments within a prison overseen by an unethical warden.

Old familiar supporting characters are unfortunately absent, but of course Mr. Combs is back in the driver’s seat, this time with a few wrinkles on his face. Almost twenty years after the first film, Herbert West is no longer a scorned medical student, but a failed scientist with whom the other lead harnesses a fascination. The other protagonist, effectually named Howard Phillips, is basically Dan Cain’s spiritual replacement, assisting West’s studies yet disapproving of his ethics. Beyond the always reliable Jeffrey Combs, there are a couple of wonderfully madcap performances by inmates. Notably, the manic bald fellow and the drug fiend (who’s demise might be the best scene in the movie). “Hey man, got anymore? Just… another hit.” “I’d say you had enough.”

The hallmark biological opening credits are now scored by a lawsuit dodging original tune. It’s actually pretty good, and maintains hints of ye olde Psycho theme. Curiously enough, the true Psycho theme does make a cameo mid-movie. Perhaps the producers figured no one would make it that far. It’s also hard not to crack a smile at that familiarly ominous little violin riff that signifies trouble. This is actually the most mature sounding Re-Animator score yet (not necessarily meaning the best), forgoing the effectually dated elements of the other two. Instead, we get a somewhat more conventional score with some updated software. It even ventures into Danny Elfman territory towards the end.

The first half is pretty clunky. There are some tedious interactions between the supporting characters, groan-inducing dialogue, and occasional awkwardly dubbed broken accents from a predominantly Spanish cast. Thankfully, the second half is about as outrageously fun as you could hope for stemming from a less than stellar foundation. The ensuing plot (involving a prison riot) keeps it fresh too. I must also mention a marvelous credits scene involving a re-animated rat and a severed Johnson.

If you’ve seen the first two installments, you know what to expect: plenty of over-the-top effects-driven horror and bizarre humor. It’s crap cinema and proud of it.

Oh, and without this movie, we wouldn’t have the fabulous Move Your Dead Bones music video (youtube it… now). This pinnacle of musical expression would make the hopelessly inferior likes of Mozart, Elvis, The Beatles, Miles Davis, and Beethoven green with envy. I’m sure Lovecraft would be proud that his work helped spawn such a melodious tour de force.




I haven't seen Beyond Re-Animator since it was still relatively new. All I remember is that I did not like it at all, so seeing you give it a higher rating than Re-Animator 2 was a bit strange. Then again, I'm fairly lenient towards Bride of Re-Animator, though the first film is definitely my favourite by far.

After not not seeing either of the films for a number of years, I rewatched the first two with my room mate last Halloween (he had never seen either), and it sort of rekindled the love I have for those movies and that genre. I'm sort of kicking myself that I didn't make him watch them a couple of years earlier, because I met Jeffrey Combs at a sci-fi convention in 2012. If I had remembered how much I enjoyed the first film in particular, I definitely would have gotten him to sign my copy of the film and asked some questions at his Q&A panel instead of letting others ask boring Stargate questions.



I haven't seen Beyond Re-Animator since it was still relatively new. All I remember is that I did not like it at all, so seeing you give it a higher rating than Re-Animator 2 was a bit strange. Then again, I'm fairly lenient towards Bride of Re-Animator, though the first film is definitely my favourite by far.

After not not seeing either of the films for a number of years, I rewatched the first two with my room mate last Halloween (he had never seen either), and it sort of rekindled the love I have for those movies and that genre. I'm sort of kicking myself that I didn't make him watch them a couple of years earlier, because I met Jeffrey Combs at a sci-fi convention in 2012. If I had remembered how much I enjoyed the first film in particular, I definitely would have gotten him to sign my copy of the film and asked some questions at his Q&A panel instead of letting others ask boring Stargate questions.
Awesome! These are the kind of movies perfect to accommodate a watching party. Combs was one of my earliest favorites, and I'm similarly rediscovering these films that pervaded my teens. Honestly, before writing the reviews, it'd probably been around five years since I watched them.

And yeah, I enjoyed Beyond more, but it seems to be understandably polarizing. I just thought it was funnier and seemed less inclined to be like the first film, but it's a toss up. Beyond does lack the lovably 80s atmosphere though, which is why I think most prefer Bride.



Visitor of a Museum (1989)


Almost every scene in Visitor… is pervaded by a fiery backdrop or a bold red tint. It is indeed one of the darkest movies ever made. Literally; much of the lighting is just barely dim enough to make out essential details. I hope this isn’t just an effect of the copy I watched, because it really adds a claustrophobic touch. The environment seems to be hell on Earth, and the sluggish camera work coupled with deadpan acting hammer the infernal atmosphere home. Clearly, this isn’t going to catch many peoples’ fancy, but it should be a magnet for those that seek unrelenting depictions of darkness.

We begin with the film’s title appropriately engulfed in flames, accompanied by subtly eerie music. The narrative is set in an otherworldly rural town teeming with so called ‘degenerates,’ or people suffering from the hazardous effects of the environment. The ‘degenerates’ are, by and large, special needs citizens that are harshly discriminated against. Their main philosophy has driven them into a miserable, self-imposed repression, fearing that lust leads to widespread defilement. Their strongly held spiritual beliefs are ridiculed by ‘normal’ people, and their persecution has driven them to collectively live in a dilapidated reservation (with the most hellish atmosphere of all). This is a world lit by fire. Even when not directly shown, the perpetual flames flicker and illuminate most of the surroundings, sort of similar to the way that water can project a wavy texture on a surface when lit properly. The environment outside of the reservation looks like a post-apocalyptic garbage dump with mangled traces of industry and circumspect citizens. And later, the low tide ‘holy desert’ is a wasteland presented with dust-ridden air, drab vegetation, and scarce tokens of human remains.

The main character of the film is a quiet man searching for a divine museum that is only accessible via perilous hike during a certain low tide (or inaccessible, as Karl Pilkington would say). Given his sympathetic nature, our protagonist forms an intensely spiritual connection with the ‘degenerate’ people, becoming their foremost hope for mortal escape. This shapes the plot for a film largely about, as fairly as I can interpret, the perils of zealotry (juxtaposed with the hope that salvation may bring escape from a life ruled by despair). The real question becomes whether the protagonist’s journey will lead to true salvation, death, or madness.

The film’s director, Konstantin Lopushanskiy, was apparently a protégé of Andrei Tarkovsky, and indeed it shows. His radical visual style typically includes strong tints and highly contrasted cinematography. Lopushanskiy was even a production assistant on Stalker, which is an archetype of sorts for this style. Also in the vein of Tarkovsky, the movie moves at a snail’s pace. Within a two-hour and fifteen-minute runtime, there are few cuts and myriad lingering distant shots. The score isn’t out to sell any records either; it’s just a pretty straightforward assemblage of dark ambient soundscapes to amplify the mood. To be fair, all of this does make Visitor… pretty vulnerable to criticisms of pretention.

This is not a very story-driven film. Here, the style is part of the substance. It may sound unfavorable, but the narrative would hardly leave an impression without the strongly stylized setting, and the film would lose most of its cult appeal. With somber direction and pervasive red, it’s very comparable to Lars von Trier’s The Element of Crime as well. For those, like me, that are suckers for visually driven movies, Visitor’s bold and fascinating visual character is enough to overlook shortcomings.







Visitor of a Museum (1989)


Almost every scene in Visitor… is pervaded by a fiery backdrop or a bold red tint. It is indeed one of the darkest movies ever made. Literally; much of the lighting is just barely dim enough to make out essential details. I hope this isn’t just an effect of the copy I watched, because it really adds a claustrophobic touch. The environment seems to be hell on Earth, and the sluggish camera work coupled with deadpan acting hammer the infernal atmosphere home. Clearly, this isn’t going to catch many peoples’ fancy, but it should be a magnet for those that seek unrelenting depictions of darkness.

We begin with the film’s title appropriately engulfed in flames, accompanied by subtly eerie music. The narrative is set in an otherworldly rural town teeming with so called ‘degenerates,’ or people suffering from the hazardous effects of the environment. The ‘degenerates’ are, by and large, special needs citizens that are harshly discriminated against. Their main philosophy has driven them into a miserable, self-imposed repression, fearing that lust leads to widespread defilement. Their strongly held spiritual beliefs are ridiculed by ‘normal’ people, and their persecution has driven them to collectively live in a dilapidated reservation (with the most hellish atmosphere of all). This is a world lit by fire. Even when not directly shown, the perpetual flames flicker and illuminate most of the surroundings, sort of similar to the way that water can project a wavy texture on a surface when lit properly. The environment outside of the reservation looks like a post-apocalyptic garbage dump with mangled traces of industry and circumspect citizens. And later, the low tide ‘holy desert’ is a wasteland presented with dust-ridden air, drab vegetation, and scarce tokens of human remains.

The main character of the film is a quiet man searching for a divine museum that is only accessible via perilous hike during a certain low tide (or inaccessible, as Karl Pilkington would say). Given his sympathetic nature, our protagonist forms an intensely spiritual connection with the ‘degenerate’ people, becoming their foremost hope for mortal escape. This shapes the plot for a film largely about, as fairly as I can interpret, the perils of zealotry (juxtaposed with the hope that salvation may bring escape from a life ruled by despair). The real question becomes whether the protagonist’s journey will lead to true salvation, death, or madness.

The film’s director, Konstantin Lopushanskiy, was apparently a protégé of Andrei Tarkovsky, and indeed it shows. His radical visual style typically includes strong tints and highly contrasted cinematography. Lopushanskiy was even a production assistant on Stalker, which is an archetype of sorts for this style. Also in the vein of Tarkovsky, the movie moves at a snail’s pace. Within a two-hour and fifteen-minute runtime, there are few cuts and myriad lingering distant shots. The score isn’t out to sell any records either; it’s just a pretty straightforward assemblage of dark ambient soundscapes to amplify the mood. To be fair, all of this does make Visitor… pretty vulnerable to criticisms of pretention.

This is not a very story-driven film. Here, the style is part of the substance. It may sound unfavorable, but the narrative would hardly leave an impression without the strongly stylized setting, and the film would lose most of its cult appeal. With somber direction and pervasive red, it’s very comparable to Lars von Trier’s The Element of Crime as well. For those, like me, that are suckers for visually driven movies, Visitor’s bold and fascinating visual character is enough to overlook shortcomings.




It's been years since I've seen this pop up again. I meant to watch it years ago but never got around to it, story of my life. But after reading this I'm bumping it up and finally watching it. Great review.



It's been years since I've seen this pop up again. I meant to watch it years ago but never got around to it, story of my life. But after reading this I'm bumping it up and finally watching it. Great review.


Thanks! Hope you like it.



The Short Films of Jan Svankmajer (1964-1993)

Ok… for something different, I’m going to go through Jan Svankmajer’s catalogue before it was overtaken by feature length films. For those unfamiliar with the Svank, his films are probably most prominently known for their imaginative stop-motion effects, surrealist narratives, and absurdist humor. Svankmajer also seems to have an uncanny interest in… umm… eating, and loves to shoot close-ups of mouths chewing on food with over the top voracity, as well as occasionally presenting pieces of food (and tongues) as living subjects.

His career trajectory did begin with some enigmatically philosophical (and dare I say, pretentious) art films, but as decades add up, you can see an improved and more self-aware filmmaker develop with an honest penchant for experimentation. Even if his style might not strictly appeal to many, his enthralling use of stop motion coupled with a unique sense of humor should at least be appreciable by most. His works have also been regarded as highly influential to the likes of Terry Gilliam and the Brothers Quay, although Svankmajer noticeably puts less emphasis on visual beauty in lieu of mostly uncomfortable and drab environments.


The Last Trick (1964)

Svankmajer’s first film follows two magicians as they competitively perform a series of bizarre tricks. The stop motion is actually at a minimum, and the magicians are performed by live actors wearing ornate masks. There’s also some interesting camera trickery that brings Georges Méliès to mind.

Johann Sebastian Back (1965)

Some attractive black and white cinematography makes this one of Svankmajer’s more visually appealing flicks. Unfortunately, it’s purely visual. This is essentially abstract; it simply captures a series of gritty, ramshackle walls as seemingly random holes manifest themselves out of harmony with the potent organ music.

A Game with Stones (1965)

This presents an abstruse scenario involving a variety of stones being dropped into a bucket, triggering characteristically bizarre stop motion. The animations are fine and interesting, but there are plenty of better examples among this list.

Et Cetera (1966)


A featureless figure on a page develops a life of its own, experimenting with a multitude of other suddenly material objects on said page. The animation gives the impression of ink moving on paper; another attractive experiment that is pretty unique specially to this film.

Punch and Judy (1966)

Two small puppets can’t come to an agreement on how to care for a guinea pig, and fight to the death over it. This is a really funny & creative story featuring Svankmajer’s uniquely gritty models. Given the specialization of puppetry, it’s also a possible prelude to the Quay brothers.

Historia Nature (1967)

Another pretty abstract film showcasing various forms of life through fantastic animations (only momentarily interrupted by a man eating). It’s still strongly open to interpretation, but the accompanying visuals aren’t as seemingly arbitrary as some of Svank’s other early works.

The Flat / Byt (1968)


A tortuous apartment seems to go out of its way to stop a man from doing anything productive. This is amply weird and surreal, but not overly ambiguous. It’s fascinating and amusing enough for any film fan to appreciate. The absurdist scenario and presentation is more characteristic of Svank’s later films, but being from 1968, the animation may not be as refined. It’s still a great starting point though.

The Garden (1968)

We see two men enter a property encompassed by a fence made up of live humans. Svankmajer forgoes his signature animation here in an attempt to make a somewhat more grounded film (still containing some odd camera cuts and close-ups). The story is pure Bunuel-esque surrealism, and subject to quite a few varying interpretations I’m sure. Svankmajer himself apparently says that this is about freedom (a common theme for him).

Picnic with Weismann (1968)

Material objects come to life and fulfill mostly ambiguous roles. Despite being filmed on a sunny day, the imagery isn’t as striking as one would probably hope for, and the surrealistic bits don’t stick out among Svankmajer’s more notable efforts.

A Quiet Week in the House (1969)

A man cautiously visits a seemingly uninhabited house and repeats an odd daily ritual... again and again. As the plot indicates, it can get repetitive (even for a 20-minute movie), but it still has some typically appreciable stop motion and a cool sepia tint for the non-animated bits. The animations are among this list’s most unusual, which means it’s a good film to ward off intruders.

Don Juan / Don Sajn (1970)


Until Alice was released almost 20 years later, this seems to be the closest Svankmajer got to a feature. It tells a dark rendition of Don Juan through live puppetry (à la The Last Trick), an idea further explored in Faust (1994). The puppets are gritty looking, and the tale is set amidst both organic and faux-puppet theatre backgrounds. Svankmajer’s ironic sense of humor is also at full mast here.

Maybe it’s just a result of specializing in short films, but the unstable camera movement, quick zooms, unusual close-ups, erratic cuts, and briefly intercut images make many of Svank’s films really ADHD-conscious. Don Sajn could’ve been drawn out to feature length in anyone else’s hands.

The Ossuary (1970)


We are taken on a tour through an ossuary (burial site) ornamented by a massive cluster of bones stemming from victims of centuries-old plagues and wars. Many of the bones are displayed in elaborate architectural and decorative fashion. Morbid as they are, the decorations are very absorbing, and look vaguely like something out of an H.R. Giger painting. The narrator (who spends much of the time warning people not to vandalize the bones) is the ossuary’s tour guide. There is a macabre juxtaposition which sees the symbols of death treated casually by the narrator and frenetically by the director. Shots are frequently cut with flashes of close ups; the chaotic camera work pronounces the horror of the place.

There is no trademark over the top animation or surrealism, just an experimentally shot document of an interesting subject that Svankmajer appropriately treats without humor.

Jabberwocky (1971)

Surreal animations accompany a brief narration of Jabberwocky and a wonderfully odd soundtrack. The visual accompaniments are as abstruse and surreal as ever, but are also richly detailed and totally mesmerizing. Focusing mainly on everyday objects come to life (clearly a pervasive theme by this point), this may be the fullest Svankmajer reached his potential with stop motion until Dimensions of Dialogue.

Leonardo’s Diary (1972)

Da Vinci’s drawings are remarkably simulated and juxtaposed with symbolic footage of turbulent modern civilization (namely warfare and sports). Given that the animation is driven by drawings done in the style of Da Vinci, it may not be the most representative film on the list, but it’s still very impressive.

Castle of Otranto (1977)

If it weren’t for the live action Czech scenes, you could almost pass this off as one of Gilliam’s animated shorts. It tells its story mainly through animated cartoon-ish cutouts, with brief live shots spliced in. The live action scenes are filmed with a surprising regularity for Svankmajer, forgoing his usual idiosyncratic camera work. Also, maybe it’s just me being simpleminded, but the animated bits are pretty hard to follow without much knowledge of the base story.

Fall of the House of Usher (1982)

A narrator recites verses from the Poe story, but the accompanying visuals depict no actual characters. There is some beautiful black and white photography, and the Gothic tone is complemented by some of Svankmajer’s most abstract animations. For those unfamiliar with the Poe story, this would be nearly impossible to follow, making it one of Svank’s most ‘difficult’ movies. An equally positive and negative aspect of short films is that there is room to experiment without really committing to a project, so naturally, some experimental ideas just don’t work as well as others.

Dimensions of Dialogue (1983)


Maybe this isn’t as strictly entertaining as some of his other 80’s shorts, but there’s plenty of admiration to be found in this showcase of (possibly) Svankmajer’s most impressive animation. For that reason, it’s often considered his best. Being an excellent representation of Svank’s style, it’s also a good place to decide whether or not these flicks are gonna be for you.

Down to the Cellar (1983)

A little girl ventures into an unnerving old cellar, wherein live many oddly representational horrors. Some of these horrors seem to symbolize the girl’s deepest fears stemming from childhood vulnerability.

This is another good entry point into Svankmajer’s catalogue. His films often contain frenetic cuts and animation, but the measured, horror-esque tenor of this one allows the atmosphere to settle a bit, and the surrealist bits engage curiosity without going ambiguously over the top.

The Pendulum, the Pit, and Hope (1984)



A man struggles to free himself from confinements before the infamous pendulum descends upon him. Although we’re given little context for these events, this may be the most straightforward story in a Svankmajer short. Most of this is shot from a first person perspective to help the viewer immerse themselves. There’s some great attention to detail (such as the pendulum banging against the walls) that accentuates odd suspense. Black and white photography also helps foster the gritty dungeon setting (with some awesome art designs).

Manly Games / Virile Games (1988)

In this overt satire of aggressive sports culture, a man gluttonously watches a football (soccer) game with a particular emphasis on barbarism. Players are creatively killed in sadistic head popping fashion, and replaced with football savvy caskets. The only temporary reprieve from the barbarism is a commercial break showcasing kittens. This is one of Svank’s funniest, and includes plenty of his signature animation put to good use.

Meat Love (1989)

Title is self-explanatory; two pieces of meat engage in romance. It’s weird and funny, and it’s taken me longer to write this review than it will for you to watch the movie.

Flora (1989)

In a span of approximately 30 seconds, a man made up of myriad vegetables is seen withering. It’s interesting, but a longer runtime wouldn’t have hurt.

Darkness, Light, Darkness (1989)

Pieces of a body (each with their own character) slowly self-assemble within an ill-fitting room. This is one of Svankmajer’s most renowned for the typically impressive animation and distinctive absurdism.

The Death of Stalinism in Bohemia (1991)

Some of his other films may carry underlying philosophical themes, but this is Svankmajer’s most overtly political film. Unfortunately, without a great understanding of Czechoslovakian political history, I’m somewhat left in the dark. It still contains many of the characteristic furnishes you’d expect though.

Food (1993)


It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly where Svankmajer’s obsession with food began, but it certainly climaxes here. We get three independent segments: Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner. In Lunch, two pixilated men at a restaurant are continually ignored by their waiter, so they resort to devouring anything in their proximity. The gobbling samples really make it. I’m not even gonna try to explain the other two, but they both comfortably fit among Svankmajer’s best scenarios. For those who crave surrealism, this is one of the most oddly enjoyable and imaginative short films you’re liable to find.



BONUS:
Hugh Cornwell - Another Kind of Love (1988)
Svankmajer’s frenetic style works perfectly for a music video, and his animations have no doubt inspired more than a few others.



Sorcerer (1977)


Sorcerer opens with some brief tone-setting action. This short-lived establishment is followed by some borderline tedious plot development. Presumably, anyone watching Sorcerer knows the basic premise, and half an hour of alternately set development may seem a tad wearisome. Essentially, each character is shown mucking up a crime, precipitating their fleet to one of the most undesirable corners of the Earth. When we see the film’s dejected Latin American village, it’s presented as a war-torn, politically unstable, fly-infested, rubble-strewn sh*thole. With the austere combination of industrial waste and lush natural landscapes, it’s actually beautiful. Our anti-heroes, depressed by the territorial backbreaking labor and no-shave lifestyle, would likely disagree.


After an oil well is sabotaged in a way that would make Michael Bay gush, our leads are drafted to transport highly volatile dynamite through nearly impossible terrain. Finally, once the ramshackle trucks are presented and boarded, the fulfilled anticipation feels momentous (fostered by some beautiful nighttime cinematography). Seeing the trucks revealed in this is akin to seeing the T-Rex for the first time in Jurassic Park; the buildup beforehand was fine and dandy, but now… sh*t just got real. Thus, an exceptionally intense man vs. nature tale in the jungle commences. Four men attempt to precariously cross rickety bridges, venture around fallen trees and steep cliffs, deal with the pesky local populace, and struggle through heavy rainfall. Once it really gets going, this movie is something of a marvel. Without the convenient use of modern special effects, the stunts in the film probably mirror the backbreaking work depicted (analogous to Fitzcarraldo).


The fundamental tale is a re-adaption of the novel The Wages of Fear (also the basis for the more renowned 1953 film). This time it’s afforded a more vivid, colorized setting. It’s not simply a difference of older vs. newer production though. The 1953 film still rivals Sorcerer in grit and desperation, but Sorcerer notably presents its leading characters as less sympathetic, more authentically dispirited runaway fugitives. Despite the characters possessing their share of unlikeable traits, Roy Scheider (playing the morally scrupulous thief who refuses to carry a gun) is the closest thing we have to a protagonist. The noteworthy Francisco Rabal, with his liquor drenched vocal chords, has a complex character arc as well.

This is a bastion of 70s grit. Each character sheds enough sweat to drop a weight class before a fight. Then there’s the characteristic granular Tangerine Dream score, and the ultra-realistic effects (minus the symptomatically squeaky ricocheting bullet sounds and ketchup blood). Despite some occasional stylish cinematographic bits (notably the amazing rainy bridge scene), most of the movie isn’t too gaudy. Instead, it ferments stark realism. Even with some exaggerated thrills later on, the somewhat subdued acting and pacing really enhances the feeling of immersion. It takes a while to take off, but once it’s go time, the suspense is tauter than a judoka’s grip.





Blood and Black Lace (1964)


Mario Bava’s distinctive atmosphere and slasher elements laid the groundwork for countless genre flicks to follow. Blood and Black Lace is his most successful foray into the Giallo (thriller-y) catalogue, despite being lauded predominantly for his Gothic horror entries like Black Sunday and Black Sabbath.

This tale follows a faceless killer preying upon young fashionistas. All the while, a detective attempts to unravel a complex web of scheming involving money, drugs, and more than a few suspicious characters. The fundamental premise is simple, with some superfluous red herrings sprinkled in. The story certainly isn’t its drawing power, but the somewhat monotonous and predictable crime plot just kind of stalls the movie until the interesting bits surface. However, some may appreciate that the killer isn’t of the impossibly competent ilk that we’ve now come to expect from slashers, and does show some human vulnerabilities.

Even though the plot is pretty pedestrian, the style is borderline surreal. The lighting, especially, gives us sharp casts of pink, red, blue, and green. The nighttime shadows are also exploited for all they’re worth. A modern setting didn’t stop Bava from inserting his signature Gothic flourishes either (mainly through some décor and characteristic cinematography). Although, for the most part, period costuming and foggy atmosphere is replaced with an unmistakably 60s panache lead by cool easy listening lounge music, colorful retro sets, and poofy hair.

The movie’s main estate is brimming with stylish mannequins and some graceful set pieces. Bava uses some well-paced tracking shots to capture the estate in all of its splendor, not leaving much detail to the imagination. Due to budget constraints, the moving shots were also apparently taken using a child’s wagon as a track. Maybe it’s just me, but vast, unusually detailed rooms screened with surrealistic lighting and filmed in motion vaguely brings Peter Greenaway or David Lynch to mind.


Film purists typically dread dubbing, but of course it’s inevitable here. English is also the apparent spoken language, even though the voices still sync up poorly. Depending on what you hope to get out of this, it could be a hindrance or a charm. Still, those reluctant of classic Italian horror because of a semi-exploitative reputation (set by later examples) needn’t worry too much here. There’s plenty of less-than-subtle sexuality and violence, but given its period, it's far less explicit than similar movies that would come just a decade later.

Before watching, be mindful that Blood and Black Lace has aged about as well as a 50 year old loaf of bread. The campy dubbing, passé thriller music cues (DUN!), and histrionic acting seem to really only be appreciable for their retro or low-budget charm. You sort of have to embrace the defects to enjoy. Nonetheless, it is a unique genre entry that lent much of its style to an array of other beloved films.






Night of the Creeps (1986)


Night of the Creeps kicks off with a cool, characteristically 80s credit sequence (championed by font and score) that appears to have been used as a blueprint for Stranger Things. The story unexpectedly commences with little thumb monsters running around what looks to be a discarded set from Alien. Unfortunately, beginning with such a wildly out of place scene sets a standard of unpredictability that the rest of the film doesn’t even come close to matching.

After our thumb warriors shoot a capsule down to Earth, we get a flashback in a painfully obvious 50s setting. Prepare to get hit over the head with 50s dialogue, cadences, music, cars, and clothing all crammed into about 5 minutes. It can be an amusing caricature though. Shortly thereafter, we’re transported to present day, which also seems to be a caricature of modern sorority life. We’re then introduced to an archetypical cast of jocks and geeks, a couple of whom discover the decades-hidden secret alien contaminant and unwittingly unleash it upon the campus. The contaminant comes in the form of brain chewing creepy crawlies accompanied by some nice wet squishy samples.

The dialogue has a strange dynamic of going from annoying to terrific. K, bros? Maybe the fact that most of it is representational holds it back a little. It mainly serves to reinforce character stereotypes, but there are some really great bits in between (such as Cameron’s confession). Overall, it’s not Tarantino, but it is funny and self-aware enough to carry the movie. “What is this a homicide or a bad b-movie?”

The protagonists are likeable enough, even though they’re cookie-cutter examples of characters you’ve seen in other stuff. Though, Detective Cameron (Tom Atkins) is actually depicted well. He is the depressed cop traumatized by his past who finds renewed vitality once he sees a purpose, yadda yadda. Clichéd as it may be, his character arc is closest the movie comes to having a serious emotional component, which stands out in a story otherwise about brain sucking leeches. Also, what would this movie be without a symptomatic Dick Miller cameo?

Night of the Creeps is a pretty unfiltered love letter to ye olde sci-fi horror romps of the 50s and 60s. It’s a zombie movie as much as Firefly is a Western. There are zombies, but they’re backed by an atypical source and other classic Hollywood inspired elements, dissimilar to the garden-variety diseased biters that many have no doubt become accustomed to. The best that can be said is that it’s fun and has a self-aware personality, which goes a long way in camp movies.






The Most Dangerous Game (1932)


Even though hunting for sport is mostly met with disapproval now, it speaks volumes when a prominent narrative evaluation written a century ago is still relevant. Featuring an intensely argumentative examination of hunting ethics, it’s no surprise that the short story is still widely circulated. The philosophical dialogues in the movie do seem a little tacky, but it’s only because they’re purposefully at the forefront. The movie is an entertaining romp, but it seems to be more of an analysis with a story to underpin it, rather than just a thriller plot with a perfunctory message. Maybe I’m the only one who sees it this way though, since everything I read about the film seems to skip over the commentary.

The argument revolves around the moral uncertainty of hunting for sport. Though Bob (our prototypical Hollywood protagonist) justifies his own hunting ventures, he does seem to be painted as naively inconsiderate. His character arc could be seen as the crux of the movie’s message. He initially has no qualms about hunting animals with inferior means of defense, but getting a taste of his own medicine no doubt leads to further consideration from the audience. The film does this without outright condemning big-game hunts; there are characters that vicariously speak for numerous views.

The basic plot revolves around Bob, a noted big game hunting advocate, as he’s suddenly shipwrecked in the proximity of a remote island. His only resort becomes a creepy estate that could double as Dracula’s summer retreat. Zaroff, the Count in charge of the estate, welcomes his strategically shipwrecked guests with a classy demeanor. As it turns out, Zaroff is something of a serial killer (complete with a ‘trophy room’) that excuses his own actions under the guise of sportsmanlike hunting. This all simmers into a really fun, suspense-ridden second half that sees Bob and Zaroff attempting to outwit each other amidst the jungly backdrop. Yes, it’s all very convenient that the apologetic game hunter ends up being hunted himself, but the irony really seems to exist mainly as reinforcement for the movie’s commentary. Interestingly, Zaroff is the only voice in the film that overwhelmingly supports Bob’s hunting advocacy. He also serves as Bob’s intellectual superior.


In its original form, the film was apparently about 15 minutes longer (I really wish the extra footage of Zaroff’s ‘trophy room’ could’ve been saved). That may be a reason why some scenes seem amusingly abrupt, especially in the beginning. There’s plenty of foreshadowing dialogue to snicker at too, though Zaroff’s ‘most dangerous game’ speech is remarkably well delivered. Leslie Banks (Zaroff) gave a wonderfully theatrical performance that was unfortunately swept under the rug following code-driven suppression of the film. I could’ve done without Robert Armstrong’s hammy drunk performance though. His demise almost turned Zaroff into a personal anti-hero.

On the cusp of King Kong, Ernest B. Shoedsack was at the helm. The two films were apparently filmed simultaneously, and King Kong uses a host of the same jungle sets. Not to mention that the films share two of the same stars (Fay Wray and Robert Armstrong). The jungle sets provide a nice backdrop for the second half, and Zaroff’s estate sets a great foreboding tone early on. Some of the rough, glowing timeworn frames give many of the shots an almost dreamlike beauty as well, similar to the effect that Guy Maddin attempts to recreate in his stuff.

This movie’s reputation was irreparably damaged when the Hays code was set in, leading to it being withheld for a generation. Indeed, some of the props and implications are pretty rough. Apart from some inescapably cheesy affectations, it’s aged very well, and is definitely one of the better examples of early horror.






This was recommended to me via the Mofo Chain Challenge thread.

Furry Vengeance (2010)


5 minutes in: This movie opens up with cute little animals committing a charming, family friendly attempted murder.

15 minutes in: Oh boy. Apparently the lead’s 16-year-old son hates video games and is morally opposed to money. Clearly a true-to-life representation of adolescents. Also, the lead’s wife likes to gobble at turkeys because she thinks they’re psychic.

25 minutes in: The animals can’t talk, but they are excellent charades players.

35 minutes in: Hooray. Attempted homicide looks like it’s going to be a recurring theme here… and Brendan Fraser’s family seems to take his near death experiences appallingly well. There’s also a scene with Brendan Fraser on a treadmill. I can take hyper-intelligent animals, but there’s only so much disbelief I can suspend.

40 minutes in: People are using flip phones. Is this a period film?

45 minutes in: Brendan Fraser has been wearing an ill-fitting pink sweater with his belly hanging out for the past five minutes.


55 minutes in: He just referred to his genitals as his ‘no-no zone.’

56 minutes in: *heavy breathing* Guys… I don’t know if I can make it.

60 minutes in: May I humbly request that the film blissfully indulge us by refraining from stripping Mr. Fraser for the remai… nevermind.

70 minutes in: If the movie really wants me to like the animals, it would have them try to murder the rest of the cast.

80 minutes in: Pretty sure Fraser’s son is the biological product of Sarah McLachlan.

Please don’t bring Gandhi into this.

Please don’t bring Braveheart into this.

Please don’t bring more poo into thi… god*mnit.

Credits: We’ve got a Disney-friendly rendition of Insane in the Brain lip-synced by the cast.


End:


Ok, it’s clear that the people who made this movie knew what they were doing. Like, it looks like it was made by industry professionals who clocked in and fulfilled their minimum duties. Honestly, it’s probably not as excruciating as I made it sound. It’s the type of thing they’d play in my dentist’s office to distract the kids.

Thanks to Sci-Fi Slob for the rec (although I’m wondering whether or not he hates me now). At the least, it was fun to write about.