Because I like lists, and sympathise with the tourist dilemma of “Bollocks! We only have 5 hours to spend here – what do we do first??”, I’ve decided to compile a big fat list of awesome things to do in Salem. Yes, this list could have been shorter, but the number 66 is cool, so shut your face (and click “Continue reading” to read more!):
For me, Drew Barrymore‘s presence can always be relied upon to make a dull project bearable. It brings me great glee, then, to see her in something that is not only smile-inducing but is also a Netflix Original – properties that have continued to surprise in their diversity and willingness to take risks.
(Oh, like you wouldn’t.)
So, I just got back from a trip to Korea. Knowing it was possible to make a day trip from Seoul (2h 25m by express train), I couldn’t resist the opportunity. I angled my tablet towards the window to avoid the mortification of looking like the cringeworthy tourist I was.
This is a better post than ‘sorry for not posting for forever’. At least one person must have known what I was doing, especially as I was wearing a pretty ostentatious Frankenstein hoodie. So here is a badly-edited post containing some utterly pointless photos of an actual KTX train, as used in the movie!
The presents are wrapped; everyone’s asleep. Is there a better way to celebrate the embers of Christmas Eve than a mince pie, a weird black forest gateaux-flavoured liqueur, and an ’80s throwback titspoitation slasher? If there is, fuck you, because it’s too late to come up with an alternative.
I’ve never fully trusted people. And, over the past year, I’ve learned to trust the ones around me a lot less. It’s why it’s now so hard to surprise me unless you do something nice.
It’s also why a key early scene of Nicolas Pesce‘s The Eyes of My Mother holds little suspense but much discomfort for me. A young girl Francisca (Olivia Bond, later Kika Magalhaes) is present at the murder of her mother (Diane Agostini), a former eye-surgeon from Portugal. When she asks her killer Charlie (Will Brill) “Why us?”, he replies, “You let me in.”
Well, you did it, America. You elected an inexperienced populist spouting divisive, hateful rhetoric, a happily-admitting paedophile, a potato sack of farts. And, much like Brexit before it, I’m seeing Facebook posts from people who cannot believe that half their own country could be so stupid, misinformed, wilfully ignorant, foolish suckers to downright lies. I guess that sort of thing is catching.
Some eloquent spark noted that at least some good art will come of this pain. I’d like to think this includes some dank memes. Here are a few of my favourites so far:
It’s it! I did it! The final film of this year’s marathon!
[I’ve a feeling you’ll likely see more horror posts from me before next year]
I cheated again this year – another short! And what a short. Writer-director Ben Steiner‘s The Stomach is equal parts bleak family fable, gritty neo-noir and grisly body horror. Packing two hours’ worth of backstories and interpersonal relationships into just 15 minutes, it’s no surprise that a feature-length is in the works – yet it never feels rushed or overcrowded.
Unlike Frank (Simon Meacock)’s stomach. The poor man, a medium who literally goes with his gut to talk to those in the afterlife, is ready to give up his gift. The work has taken its toll – physically and mentally – but his brother Tom (Ben Bishop) begs him to finish the day’s sessions before they agree to get Frank an operation that will replace his stomach. But back comes Mr. Pope (Peter Marinker), a recent client who’s not pleased with his service…
For such a short film, I genuinely cared about what happened to these characters. It’s a bittersweet fraternal story: the brothers have such chemistry and Frank looks so close to death, it’s hard not to feel for them both. It’s also a tension twofer, between the rough and grimy threat of Mr. Pope and the unpredictable forces of the ghostly beyond. Which, given that the tension starts straightaway, it’s probably a relief that it only lasts a quarter of an hour.
And that’s it for this year’s horror-a-thon. See you next year!
Things I learnt from watching The Undertaker and His Pals:
- An opening trippy, wavy-visualled montage does not mean you’re getting a surreal film.
- Women look incredibly sexy when being knifed. But to avoid tastelessness, just expose their bra (make sure it’s a push-up; they’ll be lying down)
- Any victim will scream and shriek with uninterrupted rhythm and pitch when being pinned down and literally having their intestines poked by a number of gloved hands.
- Despite spending their day with unengaging corpses, undertakers can be stylish, too.
- There’s always a market for gourmet meat but, as always, the younger the better.
- Grinding a meat grinder is as easy as flipping a needle on a record.
- Beatnik music never gets old.
- Motorcyclists make the most durable serial killers because they always wear a helmet.
- Male can shriek just as good – if not better – than their female counterparts, if only to cause others to drolly utter the line ‘He made quite a noise.’
- T.L.P. Swicegood is a wonderful film director’s name.
- Some statues just had it coming.
- The humble rooftop plus a serial killer’s apparent dyspraxia can save a Final Girl’s life.
- If a movie is bad in most other respects, if the players themselves are having believable, chemistry-ridden fun, then on balance there’s enough enjoyment to have it on in the background of a Hallowe’en party.