This Geek in Netflix

This Geek in Netflix: Carnival of Souls

by AllisonnnnnJuly 25, 2012

After a series of unfortunate events that caused one too many reschedulings of happy-fun-time, I was pissed. Absolutely pissed. Pissed and annoyed and ranting to an ex-boyfriend about the vagaries of men who can’t manage their own schedules.

So I thought that, instead of attempting to find a good movie to watch, I’d go straight to something that I could release my very pent up frustration upon. I dug through Netflix Instant with a fervor that could be likened to my occasional desperate (and often disappointing) hunt for AAA batteries.

Probably has nothing to do with the above paragraph.

But I wasn’t ready for the level of frustration that Wes Craven’s Carnival of Souls conveyed. Released in 1998, CoS is touted on Netflix as being the story of a young girl, Alex (Bobbie Phillips) who witnesses her mother being raped and killed by a clown (who then comes back to seek revenge on the grown trauma victim).

I now address Netflix thusly:

FUCK YOU, NETFLIX. RAPED AND MURDERED BY A CLOWN?! HE WASN’T EVEN IN CLOWN MAKE-UP AND THERE WAS NO GODDAMNED RAPE. FUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOU.

“Rape time?” No, Alex, it’s disappointment time.

Not only was there no rape, Alex is absolutely convinced that the clown, Louis Seagram (Larry Miller), was coming back to get her. You know, tie up loose ends.

First off, where’s his motivation? Look, I understand the wanting to bang both the mother and the daughter. That’s a thing. Hell, if I could get away with an attractive dad/son combo, I’d do it. But he didn’t even bang the mom so it’s not like there’s this awesome double-package deal.

Secondly, it’s revealed decently early on that not only is the clown dead, but that Alex is having hallucination after hallucination with hallucinations inside the hallucinations inside those hallucinations.

It’s fucking Clown Inception.

Basically my expression throughout the film.

With all this tear-inducing madness, there are two vaguely bright rays of sunshine in here. One, Sandra Grant, Alex’s younger sister, is played by Shawnee Smith. That name may sound familiar if you’re a fan of the Saw franchise, as Smith plays Amanda Young, Jigsaw’s apprentince. Two, the male love interest, Michael, is played by Paul Johansson. In my world, he’s just boneably hot but in the OMG teen girl world, however, he’s One Tree Hill’s Dan Scott.

So if you like your movies without clownrape, this is the film for you.

This Geek in Netflix: The Legend of Lucy Keyes

by AllisonnnnnJuly 18, 2012

Kids, you’re going to have to forgive me for this review, as I’m still coming down off the high of Comic-Con. And by “high”, I mean total lack of sleep.

“I’m done with your imaginary friend horseshit, Lucy.”

While digging through the horde of Netflix Instant movies, I discovered The Legend of Lucy Keyes, which had a fairly decent rating from its users and claimed to be about the haunting of a farm or some such nonsense. What occurred, however, I would not exactly call a “haunting” as much as random vaguely spooky occurrences that really didn’t impact anyone among the living in any significant way.

It started off promising with my preferred generic opener: scene setters placed alongside really nondescript music. Here’s a farmhouse. Oh, here’s another farmhouse. Here’s some leaves. Here’s a cemetery. Here’s a quaint town. OH, FUCK, IT’S A MOVING VAN ATTACHED TO A STATION WAGON/MINI-VAN/OTHER FAMILY-ORIENTED VEHICLE.

I like the classic clichédness of it all, as it reminds me of 70s horror films (i.e. a favorite of mine, Burnt Offerings) and it seems like it might have some promise at this point. In pursuit of contract that would enable him to build eight windmills on some countryside acreage, Guy Cooley (Justin Theroux) moves his wife (Julie Delpy, who I know from a brief period in my life where all I would watch was Disney’s Three Musketeers—don’t judge) and their two little girls move to an old farm deep in the middle of nowhere.

What I will give this movie points for is actually attempting to try to establish the characters before launching into the… hrm. It’s not exactly horror, as there isn’t anything really resembling a scary moment. Huh. Wait, I know! Launching into the brief interactions with the not-so-recently deceased who don’t really seem all too unpleasant, honestly. Sure, they’re a little loud at night and cause flashbacks, but other than that… very few unpleasant side effects.

Stays up at night wishing he had got the Comic-Con Derpy pony.

However, when you bring in the crazy neighbor, Judd Jonas (Mark Boone Junior – Robert Munson from Sons of Anarchy), and his Cruella deVille-like cousin, Samantha Porter, (Brooke Adams), suddenly ghosts aren’t needed for the horror factor anymore, as Porter does her best to keep the audience’s something-ain’t-right-here-sense tingling.

This film felt lacking for me. Delpy was the workhorse of this film, pulling it with all her might (and a sexy accent), and Theroux definitely pitched in at times, but the overall effect was still somewhat lacking. For a little over an hour and a half, I kept waiting for this movie to hit its stride and it never really did—all the pieces were there, they just weren’t assembled quite properly.

This Geek in Netflix: White

by AllisonnnnnJuly 11, 2012

Dear readers, you may have noticed a several week absence on the part of your author.

By your author, I mean me. Please save yourself some confusion. I know dealing with second person point of view can be a bit disorienting at times, but try to keep up.

Trust me when I say that it was absolutely necessary to take those few weeks to floss my Japanese turtle. Which is much kinkier than it sound, believe me—I’m a professional.

In celebration of my long-awaited(ish?) return, I’ve decided to gift myself with the 2011 Korean flick, White: The Melody of the Curse, AKA: White: Melody of the Curse, AKA: White: Curse of the Melody, AKA: White: Curse Melody of the.

WTMOTC is about a not-so-much-loved K-Pop all-girl group, Pink Dolls, that discovers a VHS tape in an old studio that has a song and dance number that suddenly catapults them into fame. Tragically, the tape comes with a curse: the angry white-haired ghost of a former pop performer set on the destruction of any one who attempts to take the lead role in the song.

Random herbal drinks give you wiiiiings.

I know, I know—it’s amazing that I kept myself away from it from so long, especially given my love of K-Pop. But I did manage to finally sit down and learn to love the four girls of Pink Dolls.

Okay, that was a lie: three of them were total cunts. Yeah, you heard me. Jenny, A-rang, and Shin-ji kept picking on the poor back-up dancer, Eun-ju, who was such a sweet heart. And I heard from Sun-ye that A-rang even switched Eun-ju’s shampoo for a name-brand!! WHO DOES THAT?!!

Fortunately for Eun-ju, between over-imbibing fluids, what appeared to be self-impalement, and a tragic accident involving a crane, those little show stealers are soon put out of business.

This movie started off as one of those underdog-rises-to-fame flicks. Everything was in place: the lead female on her way out the door due to age, the three other group members biting at her heels to leave, the pathetic loss at a competition to another girl group, and the miraculous discovery of the song “White” that would save the band.

It’s almost as if one writer turned in a screenplay to his partner who, as a practical joke, rewrote it as a horror flick. Or maybe I’m just projecting my own love for team-killing onto the writing world.

The imagery in the film was often intense and, as the story began to reveal itself, the recurring themes began to make more sense and added to the film’s artistry. Sure, a few parts of it were very much the standard gore that I see way too often in Japanese flicks like Tokyo Gore Police, but even with those hiccups, it was still fun.

This woman almost converted me to lesbianism in less than 90 minutes.

Of course I have a soft spot for those cheesy dance movies (Step Up, Center Stage, Take the Lead, etc. embarrassed etc.), so combine anything along those lines with a tragic ghost story and people running around shrieking their little K-Pop heads off, and you’ve got a perfect winner for my late night consumption.

No, not that kind of consumption. RedTube and I will be discussing that after I wrap up with Netflix.

If you find yourself craving a late night snack, that special blend of two delightful worlds, start buffering White: The Curse of the Melody of the Melody of the Curse on Netflix on Demand.

This Geek in Netflix: House of Voices

by AllisonnnnnJune 20, 2012

In 2010, I watched a Spanish horror film called The Orphanage. That movie scared the shit out of me in a way that hadn’t happened since I was little and was pressured into watching one of the Chuckie movies with my father who proceeded to spend the next several months trying to create exciting new ways to terrify me with antique dolls.

Clearly the love-child of Geena Davis and Natalie Portman.

The Orphanage was released in 2007, three years after the French-Romanian horror film House of Voices (original title: Saint Ange) debuted. I bring the former up as House of Voices is, essentially, its mellow French counterpart.

No, not in its plot or atmosphere, but in the motifs that cycle through the two films.

House of Voices revolves around the happenings at Saint Ange, an orphanage in the French Alps in 1958, and the newly hired cleaning woman, Anna (Virginie Ledoyne – Francoise from The Beach). Anna arrives to Saint Ange during a mass exodus—the orphanage is shutting down as the children are being shuffled away having all been miraculously placed with foster families. It is Anna’s job to help put the building back in order.

No, don’t worry, this isn’t some sort of oddly arousing BDSM flick of the sexy scullery maid working herself to the bone while some disturbing landlord looks on and strokes his… chin. Anna has help in the forms of the haunted Judith (Lou Doillon) and the stout cook, Ilinca (Dorina Lazar). The trio are left quite alone as they scour the kitchen, dry the laundry, and play dress up.

This solitude is good for Anna, as we quickly discover that she is pregnant and very much against this whole state of child-bearing and wants to desperately pretend that her rapidly expanding stomach is just a case of extreme gas.

[Insert the lyrics to every Madonna song ever here.]

During her moody explorations, Anna begins hearing noises and seeing children scurrying about the deserted hallways of Saint Ange. Convinced that something is up, especially after being warned by a departing orphan to avoid the ugly children (really, don’t we do that naturally?), Anna starts digging into the history of orphanage, with the trusty Judith by her side.

This film was an interesting contrast of elements. Visually, it was full and beautiful without being overly lush, save for those brief transitions into “ghost areas” while being heavily contrasted against a very small amount of dialogue, almost enough so that the story could become easily lost if a single sentence was missed or misheard. This minimalist take on the dialogue removed a lot of the traditional verbal exposition and explanation, leaving the movie wide open to interpretation.

The character of Anna swung between being sympathetic and loathsome, causing me to alternate between cheering for her and wanting to punch her whining face, which is a fairly conflicted stance to take on a serious horror movie and an odd choice of presentation indeed.

In the end, this was more of a ghost story with heavy psychological elements than it was a horror movie, causing the tale to be of a more mellow form than that of The Orphanage, but even with its gradually accelerating pace it certainly never strayed—at least for me— into the territory of the boring.

If you’re looking for a movie to slowly unfold before you with a haunting echo, queue up House of Voices on Netflix Instant. If you’re looking to be scared shitless and possibly never sleep again, watch The Orphanage and be prepared to cry yourself to sleep that night.

This Geek in Netflix: Chawz

by AllisonnnnnJune 5, 2012

Sometimes, I worry about the state of America. We disrespect the trees, the animals, and our neighbors—okay, so I’m not so concerned about that last one, I’ll admit. But the animals!! They’re so goddamned cute and fuzzy and I want to cuddle them until their little cute and fuzzy heads pop off.

This view was clearly shared by Korean director Shin Jung-won when he decided to make the environmentally-focused Chawz (AKA: Chaw or Chawu). Get this: there’s a plague of chipmunks in a small forest in Korea. These chipmunks are so goddamned adorable that humans cannot help but pick them up for some mad cuddle action.

Unfortunately for the human populace (and practitioners of bestiality), these chipmunks have bred with some genetically-modified porcupines from a corrupt laboratory in Seoul and, whenever squeezed, they shoot deadly spikes that were previously buried under their sleek chipmunk pelts.

This wouldn’t be so bad save that, due to massive deforestation by a logging company, the chipmunks are fleeing into nearby towns, hypnotizing residents with their big brown eyes and stripy little behinds into fiercely cuddling them. With the plague of chipmunks spreading quickly, Officer Kim and environmentalist Soo-ryuun have to work together to stop the impending devastation.

…I may have just made that all up.

Okay, I did. I couldn’t help it—the idea of somehow rigging one of these chipmunks with a delayed squeezing device and tossing it into a crowd of hipsters was too appealing. I was weak. I’m sorry.

In reality, Chawz is a combination of many (too many) moving parts centering around a giant hybrid boar living in the woods outside of Sam-mae-ri, “the crimeless village”.

Moving Part #1: The Village Chief and the President (president of what exactly, we never learn) are encouraging deforestation and land development to take their tiny crimeless village and revitalize its economy by labeling everything as “organic”.

Moving Part #2: Grandpa Chun’s only granddaughter gets eaten by a mutant boar while he’s passed out from too much booze and not taking her calls, rekindling his hunter’s spirit.

Moving Part #3: Officer Kim is suddenly moved to the crimeless village with his crazy mother and angry pregnant wife. He daydreams of leaving his mother at a truck stop. I’m pretty sure his mother daydreams about being invited to the Royal Twinkie Ball and being seduced by Prince Sno-Ball.

Moving Part #4: Graduate student Soo-ryuun and her oddly Shaggy-esque partner find parts of Grandpa Chun’s granddaughter while camping out like a pair of dirty hippies in a field while looking for evidence of the giant boar.

Moving Part #5: Totally unneeded character of crazy, gothy village woman and her “adopted” son Duk-goo(!!) who does absolutely nothing but instill sudden distrust of infantilism.

Moving Part #6: Famous hunter Man-rae Baek (who winds up in Pampers at the end of the film, by the way) and his team of “Finnish” (AKA American) bear hunters descend upon the village to wipe out the boar menace.

I don't even know. But definitely not Finnish.

Moving Part #7: Boars. Offspring of cast-off government hybrids who have learned to love human flesh due to their forests being demolished and the only food available being freshly-ish buried human bodies.

It’s a mess. It’s a two hour, two minute long mess. Half of the moving parts listed above could have been rendered completely unnecessary to the film with slight adjustments instead of causing this unfocused hairball.

However, this movie provide things I’ve never seen before, like a boar in hot pursuit of an old handcar or a boar that squeals so loud it shatters glass or even a boar with a hide so tough that bullets bounce off of it. And, on top of those highlights, the CGI and animatronics team did amazing things—so much higher quality than I expected from this film. I was thinking it was going to be another Pig Hunt which, while fascinatingly amusing, lacked on the boar-puppetry.

Do I recommend it? Not really. It’s so disorganized that it’s almost boaring… see what I did there? “Boaring”! HA! What, not funny? Crap.

If they decide to make a squeal, er, sequel and it’s only an hour and a half long or less, maybe we can renegotiate my terms of mental engagement. However, if you don’t want to wait for an unannounced sequel and you’d rather brave this film’s boorish waters it is –as always– available on Netflix Instant.

This Geek in Netflix: BreadCrumbs

by AllisonnnnnMay 30, 2012

Some weeks it feels like I just can’t win the horror movie lottery, no matter how many tickets I purchase. Not only did I buy the ticket this week, I also managed to fall asleep when they were calling the winning numbers—not that my numbers were the lucky ones.

These socks remind me of every Max Hardcore film ever made.

Okay, this metaphor is going on far too long. So, if you didn’t get it: I watched another bad horror movie and it bored me to tears. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?! Fuck, stop forcing my inner literary student off the symbolic road.

In 2011 (last year, for those of you who aren’t keeping track… of time!!), Industrial Motion Pictures released the vaguely Hansel und Gretel-themed film, BreadCrumbs. No, that “und” is not a typo. Go read a book or something.

This is what happens to you when you don't read.

If you don’t remember, Hansel und Gretel was a Grimm Brothers story featuring—you guessed it—two children named Hansel and Gretel who, through all the variations of the tale, basically wound up being left in the woods by some adult (who was occasionally related to them) and one of the kids, while being taken to his/her leafy fate, left a trail of bread crumbs behind them. Unfortunately, the bread crumbs were eaten by birds, the kids found some sort of witchy dwelling (typically a house made of candy), and then were captured by a witch who wanted to do horrible things to them.

This has next to nothing to do with this movie other than some references that briefly pay homage to the classic tale. So why did I recount this highly memetic tale that you probably already knew? Frustration. It’s this amazingly classic tale with all these wonderful tropes to work with and the finished product of BreadCrumbs falls terribly short of expectations.

Except for this scene. Expectations = totally met.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

BreadCrumbs tells the story of Angie (Marianne Hagan), a MILFy porn star in every sense of the word—save that she has no actual offspring. Which means that, basically, she’s an older performer who now gets contracted to do MILF-themed and cougar-themed porn. (Who knows too much about porn? This chick.)

Angie and her co-workers have decided to rent a cabin in the woods (no relation to the movie Cabin in the Woods) and film an adult movie (aka: porn). So we have the creepy camera guy (Jim Barnes), the doubtfully straight make-up artist (Shira Weitz), the annoying director (Mike Nichols – also this film’s director), the producer (Darbi Worley), and four other performers (Zoe Sloane, Alana Curry, Douglas Nyback, and Steve Carey).

Uh, like, yeah, this bathrobe is so Fall/Winter 2012.

Unfortunately, even with this fairly visually accurate crew, the script failed to provide any sense of realism of a porn set to those of us who have been on them. More on that later.

While in the woods, the group comes across two “kids”—Patti and Henry—who seem to be rather insane and out of place. After handling them oddly, the kids are dismissed from thought and it’s down to partying and filming. However, before they can really get down to business (*rimshot*), things begin to go awry and one of the performers ends up being really well hung.

By the neck, people! By the neck!!

Was it the kids? Was it the wielder of what sounds to be some sort of electric trimmer in the distance? Don’t worry—Scooby and the gang will find out!

When this movie wasn’t boring me to pieces, I was either busy yelling at the screen about basic realism (on so many levels, so many levels—what porn star shrieks and covers her chest when she sees someone watching her film a scene??) or moping that a movie that had the beginnings of a solid concept behind it failed so miserably script-wise to deliver.

The casting of the children did not help either—the dialogue and interpersonal interactions showed a clear relationship between adults and what should have been nine-year-olds, but the people who were cast were in their late teens which caused incredibly heavy dissonance.

Recommendation? Avoid. I could see some of the actors and, yes, even the director, doing some good things—but this isn’t one of them. Between the miscasting of the “children” and the thoroughly unresearched script, this film was sadly doomed to failure.

But if you want to experience this for yourself you can, as always, find it on Netflix Instant.

This Geek in Netflix: Assault of the Sasquatch

by AllisonnnnnMay 8, 2012

Assault of the Sasquatch? Assault of the Senses is more appropriate for this creature feature centered around—you guessed it—a sasquatch. What you may not have guessed, however strong your psychic powers might be, is that this particular sasquatch has Barbara Streisand hair.

Didn’t see that coming, did you? That’s right, here at Geekscape we keep you on your toes.

What you can probably guess by the title alone, however, is that this movie is steaming pile of… puppies. Sorry, Mr. London has decided that I’m no longer allowed to curse while I’m geeking out on Netflix movies and must substitute my profanity with more pleasant phrasing to reach the “family” market. Write him nasty letters.

Assuming you want the plot and not a rant about the injustices perpetrated by the ferreting Mr. London on his poor, downtrodden writers, let’s move on.

I got bored with taking screen shots. Here's a cat.

Somewhere in a bear preserve in New England, three hunters accidentally trap Harry Henderson via a pizza-baited bear trap. What they were doing in the woods hunting eighth grade boys, we’ll never know. What we do quickly learn about these gerbil-cuddling backwoods hicks is that there can be only one—as long as he sports a magical roaming eye-patch.

Through a short series of expected bungles and low budget effects, One-Eyed Willy (Kevin Shea) finds himself in the back of a ranger-mobile being hauled into the city for poaching thirteen-year-old boys on a bear preserve. Or poaching bears on a bear preserve. This movie isn’t quite coherent.

Are also waiting for the movie to make sense.

Before he and his night’s hairy snatch are dragged in, he manages to get one phone call off to a jet-owning, pith hat-wearing, trophy hunter who is willing to spend one million dollars for the privilege of being able to hunt the sasquatch.

One million dollars to snag a yeti? Man, you can go to a dive bar and do that for a couple two dollar beers.

The rangers haul Willy’s (actual name: Terry) van back to the city, unknowingly toting his furry prey along for the ride. Then things get… interesting? That’s not the right word at all. Then things… maintain the same level of tedium for the rest of the flick.

The sasquatch breaks loose of his metal confines and starts strolling the boulevard causing havoc with what appear to be indiscriminate killings, startling chubby nerds everywhere. As the police officers realize something is going on, they turn to their prisoner, One-Eyed Willy, and he preps them by extolling the inner psychological workings of the mighty sasquatch, which seem to be summed up with the phrase: don’t attack him and he won’t attack you.

This insight to Bigfoot isn’t exactly accurate, as the movie proves, but it’s not like someone was writing this thing and had to maintain some form of consistent internal logic.

Also wasn't built with consistent internal logic.

So the minimal police force sits inside their station and eventually fights the hair-beast as it suddenly comes back to attack them. What will happen? Will the trophy hunter bag his prize? Will the cops win out? Will anyone survive? Do I even care?

Let’s spice it up to see if we can induce some sort of caring. Throw in a strained father-daughter relationship with a spoiled little cun—uh, hedgehog, an ass-kicking stripper gone “good” (which is not nearly as awesome as it sounds), a snotty prostitute, and a mother-murdering criminal and suddenly this movie has more moving parts than the screenwriter could ever hope to maintain.

Not that I have any faith that he’d be able to maintain much in the first place. The script is clunky at the very, very least. Not that the casting helped. The two eligible bachelors both came off as potential (if not already active) serial rapists, the “hot” young daughter whose beauty was constantly referred to was the least attractive female in the movie… though ever assigning her a make-up artist or a hair stylist might have helped. Maybe next time, kids.

This movie, if you’re down for a senseless creature feature, is on Netflix Instant/Streaming/On Demand. Whatever flavor your cookie is, take a bite and settle in to watch the seasonal migrations of Willy’s eye-patch.

This Geek in Netflix: Tokyo Gore Police

by AllisonnnnnMay 2, 2012

I have this friend. This friend that somehow manages to consistently convince me to watch certain movies I would normally do my best to avoid. After watching one of his recommendations, I always swear to myself that I’ll never listen to his film advice again, and I usually manage to succeed for at least a few months before submitting myself to torment yet again.

It has been almost half a year since I took a recommendation from him but, while I was over at his house watching Pocket Ninjas (My recommendation? No. Just no.), he mentioned a flick he had recently seen: Tokyo Gore Police. I was skeptical, but when he said “means of locomotion via crocodile vagina,” I once more fell prey to his wiles.

I’ll never listen to his film advice again.

Directed by Yoshihiro Nishimura (Vampire Girl v.s. Frankenstein Girl, Mutant Girls Squad), Tokyo Gore Police released in 2008 and, yes, everything you need to know is in the title: it’s in Tokyo, features the police, and there’s more gore than you can shake an amputated limb at.

As you start watching this movie, you might experience feelings of discomfort and uneasiness at the introduction of Officer Ruka, the film’s main character. Don’t worry—these feelings are perfectly normal as a result of having seen Audition, as the actress who plays Ruka is Eihi Shiina, the lead from that incredibly terrifying film (trivia tidbit: also recommended to me by aforementioned friend).

Up-skirt or no up-skirt, I'm fucking creeped.

Knowing my friend as I did, I decided that I wouldn’t witness Tokyo Gore Police alone, so I hopped onto OKCupid to look for a lovely young man to stream it alongside me, chatting back and forth as our eyeballs melted into one flowy mass of visual purification. Once I located my victim, a spectacular moustache-toting San Diego resident, together we descended into madness.

And it was madness, should there be any accusations of over-exercising my right of dramatic license. Do you question my judgment?!

Well, I don’t blame you. But let me build my case first.

Exhibit A. Yes, you just got owned in one picture.

The year is unknown. Sometime in the future, Tokyo has come under control of a privatized police force that has taken to wearing bastardized samurai armor that actually looks kinda awesome. On this police force is Ruka, a wrist-cutting, righteous enforcer of the law who occasionally travels by bazooka (you’ll understand when you’re older).

Tokyo is plagued by a new sort of criminal—the engineers. Rather than harmless desk jockeys that whose lack of social skills may or may not be autism-related, these engineers are self-created mutants who, when injured, use that injury to form a bio-weapon. Basically the equivalent of a lizard losing its tail only to grow back a giant machete with the capability of launching poison darts.

Not quite what I was talking about, but still terrifying.

It is the goal of the Tokyo Police Corporation to completely eliminate these engineers and Ruka is on the job as one of their top engineer-hunters. Wielding a sword and the occasional wicked chainsaw, she cuts through the enemy to find their weak spot—a little bit of flesh shaped like a key that, when separated from the body, causes the host to die.

As things are going as smoothly as they can in terrorized Tokyo, a new enemy surfaces: the Key-man. After divorcing a madam’s blood from her body and doing a hatchet job on her limbs, the Key-man steps up to battle the fierce Ruka and wins. For his victory lap, he plants one of the flesh-keys into her arm, converting her to the race she loathes.

I will admit that this sounds like the standard Japanese tale and you probably think that it does not warrant accusations of madness that I have made. You’d be wrong. Here’s a short list of reasons why:

Upwards bazooka travel. Crocodile vagina. Toothed breasts. Urinating flower-chair mutants. Latex fetish club. Mutant snail girl whore. Levitation via blood-loss. Bullet-firing elephant wang. Being drawn and quartered by cop cars. Amputee bondage slave. Amputee bondage slave with sword limbs. Amputee bondage slave with gun-limbs. Little Shop of Horrors left arm. Penis removal via teeth. Brain-shooting eyeballs. The worst press-on nails I have ever seen. Bush. Dance of the chainsaws. Face-splitting. Advertisements for wrist-cutters. Advertisements for swords for seppuku. Dispatcher dance number. Midget Satan. The best blowjob experienced by anyone. Wine bottle face-fucking. Acid-lactating nipples.

Are you not entertained? Are you not entertaiiiined?!!

If I could do this once a month, I'd be much more satisfied with my life.

I can barely articulate an opinion on this film. It had so much stuff in it, but it moved pretty slowly—too many excess scenes with excess characters that did nothing but say, “Hey, look at my acid-lactating nipples!” Mutant design was wonderful, but the movie was too often prone to backsliding into humor and traditional anime motifs and, on the gore level, there were a few scenes where I thought my gag reflex was going to kick in.

I can neither recommend or reject this movie, so if you think the madness list above sounds like a good time, enjoy yourself on Netflix on Demand with Tokyo Gore Police. While you do that, I’ll quickly retreat into my fantasy that every Japanese person ever only creates things like Katamari Damacy.

This Geek in Netflix: It’s My Party and I’ll Die if I Want to

by AllisonnnnnApril 25, 2012

At 1AM on Monday night, I was feeling kinda loopy. You know, that pleasant tired when one starts hallucinating that there might be clowns in one’s pocket. Instead of doing what any normal person would do and curl up in sweet unconscious oblivion, I decided to watch a movie on Netflix.

After sorting through various obvious rejects (The Exorcist?? What a lame name—pass.), I decided on a swell looking flick called It’s My Party and I’ll Die if I Want to. How could I go wrong?

Almost exactly 24 hours later, I’m not quite feeling equally loopy, but I’m definitely getting there. So here’s some lazy reporting. This low-budget film, shot for less than $20K per the production company’s website, has won awards at the Full Moon Film Festival (not associated with Full Moon Features), the Action on Film International Film Festival, the Dark Carnival Film Festival… okay, I’m stopping there. This is boring me as I write it. That’s talent.

The movie was made. The movie was released. The movie won some awards. The movie had some unknown (but surprisingly decent) actresses in it, one of which is also in a movie called Fetish Dolls Die Laughing, which appears to be about how the “tickle monster” is real and turning women into perverted tickle fetishists. This is almost the most fantastic thing I’ve heard all week.

Don’t ask what the most fantastic thing is. Trust me.

According to legend—or at least the beginning of this film—in 1930, Jacob Burkitt locked up his family in their “manor” and, in typical batshit fashion, went on a murderous rampage, killing his wife and their six children. Since that time, no one has been able to occupy the “manor” (it’s a goddamned house) for more than a few months and several more deaths have occurred within its walls.

Fast-forward to present day. It’s Halloween—like it tends to be in horror movies—in some non-descript Midwest town. While Sara, an over-achieving redhead, is out over-achieving and being generally sexless in nature, her friends are putting the finishing touches on her surprise birthday party… at the haunted Burkitt house.

Happy birthday, all of your friends are dead!

Sara, you see, is a big horror movie and Halloween fan. Maybe she’s simply just one of those quirky girls that loves the dark and macabre. Maybe she’s self-obsessed and wants to celebrate her birthday year round because she’s a soulless redhead. We’ll never know.

As her friends slowly trickle into the house to do pre-party hijinks, they start dying off. And by dying, I mean they’re being gruesomely murdered by the ghosts of Jacob Burkitt and his family. Just after the token Asian chick, Jill, gets her heart ripped out (not in that lame metaphor way), Sara receives her last minute party invite and pulls out a costume she “happened to have on hand”.

What is she for Halloween? Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. Fuck. Yes.

Rushing over to her party, Sara soon finds that she’s got more in store for her than a few presents and some GHB.

Gamma-Hydroxybutyric acid?! Count us in!

This movie was incredibly low-budget. Film quality hearkens back to the 70s—even though it was supposedly shot digitally. Lighting was abysmal. The sets were severely limited and the “manor” was laughably unmanor-like.

However, I actually enjoyed it. The abysmal lighting added a realistic edge to particular scenes, addressing a constant mini-frustration I have with horror movies—the sudden disconnect from characters when we can see more than they can. This movie managed to make me jump a few times, even with clichéd and should-have-expected-that maneuvers, and the acting was, for the most part, good. I mean, the actress who plays Sara isn’t Nicholas Cage or anything, but she’s fine.

Primary complaints? Complaint, really. But it’s going to be an angry one. The goddamned soundtrack. Jesus would weep at this soundtrack, and then crucify himself in what would be a spectacularly failed attempt to redeem the movie.

Imagine this: you’re a very white-washed teen in rural U.S.A. You wear pink jeans and may never have had a decent hair cut in your entire life. Your friends are steps away from running the glee club. What’s your soundtrack? Angry rap? Oh, of course. This makes so much sense to just insert at every possible moment of character introduction to really give you a feel for the movie.

Other than that blip in an otherwise enjoyable film, it was fun. While in the realm of the standard Tales From the Crypt feeling (with a nod to Trick ‘r’ Treat with graphic novel-style transitions), it managed to exceed my expectations and actually provide decent entertainment where the only time I felt like smashing my laptop closed was when the torturous soundtrack flared up.

Check it out on Netflix on Demand if you want a short horror film to temporarily call your own. There’s tits and even a body double in a “goddamn, the director really wishes this was porn” shower scene.

This Geek in Netflix: Rare Exports

by AllisonnnnnApril 18, 2012

After being forced to sit and endure the double-feature of Shark Attack 3: Megalodon and 2-Headed Shark Attack, I decided to give the finger to the evil duo of Mr. London and Mr. Kelly and watch something this week that didn’t look like an eye-raper.

Feeling rather festive with my rebellion, I turned to a promising looking Finnish movie— Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale. I know it doesn’t sound nearly as amazing as 2-Headed Shark Attack, but my survival rate is much higher with this one and, honestly, I like surviving.

Rare Exports is the third in a series of Santa-focused endeavors directed by Jalmari Helander, the first two being internet shorts titled Rare Exports Inc. (2003) and Rare Exports: The Official Safety Instructions (2005). Assuming those two are of the same quality and idea of this movie, it’s safe to say that they’re pretty awesome.

Yes, I said it—I watched an awesome movie. I admit I deviated from the recent spate of total suck in a major way as my rebellion bore non-Busey-related gingerbread man-shaped fruit.

Wordsworth would like you to consider the dandelion.

I will confess to being biased and, yes, having a major thing for the evil Santa Claus concept. This started when I was a young little horror nerdling, sitting around playing Hunter: The Reckoning: Redeemer on X-Box. You see, there’s this one scene where you stop at one of those mall-like Santa Claus areas and suddenly Mr. Claus walks into view and sprouts tentacles and pulls two giant (and angry, very, very angry) teddy bears with fangs out of his sack and it’s breathtakingly amazing.

But enough with my rhapsodizing about Tentacle Santa, let’s get to the reindeer meat of this movie.

Subzero Inc., a company purported to be engaging in seismic research on the border of Lapland, has been drilling into the Korvatunturi Mountain—not to further the field of seismology but, more deviously, to unearth the frozen Santa Claus.

Brilliant, right? Free Santa Claus from his icy fortress of solitude so he can rain down presents on all the good boys and girls of the world. That’d easily clear out the waiting list for the Make-A-Wish Foundation, no problem.

However, all is not as silent and holy as it seems as the butcher’s son, little Pietari, delves into old books on local folk lore after eavesdropping on the company’s plan. In his reading, he discovers that Santa Claus is not the loveable old gent we all believe him to be, but is instead a giant beater, broiler, and eater of naughty children.

As Christmas quickly approaches, the drilling goes silent and the town’s source of income, a large herd of reindeer, is brutally slaughtered by what the townsfolk believe to be large wolves and Pietari takes steps to protect himself once he finds footprints on the roof outside of his second-floor window.

The night before Christmas Eve, all of the children—save Pietari— disappear and Pietari’s father discovers an old man has fallen into one of his wolf-pits, pierced through the chest by the wooden stakes at the bottom of the hole.

He takes the dead man into his butcher shop but soon discovers that, while mostly non-responsive, the man is alive and reacts violently to gingerbread cookies and little Pietari. Soon two other men from town join him as they attempt to determine what to do with this odd old man and find that they may have captured something more strange and powerful than they bargained for.

Buy one naked guy, get several hundred others free.

This movie was wonderful, and so much more than what I expected from the usual Christmas horror movie. It was clever. It was truly, absolutely clever. Helander managed to work in and warp all of our Santa-related Christmas mythology in a lovely little, almost Gaimanesque way that I don’t have the pleasure of seeing all too often.

Story aside, visually this movie was stunning. The colors were intense, the shots wide and very dramatic— everything lent itself to the sort of fantasy setting this movie needed. The acting was wonderful and the boy who played Pietari was perfect for the role, a silent, studious Data (The Goonies) that stepped up to the plate when everyone else was wallowing in Christmas confusion.

So start a fire (preferably in the fireplace), set out some milk and cookies, and queue up Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale on Netflix on Demand. It’s that time of year, after all. Right?

This Geek in Netflix: Birdemic

by AllisonnnnnMarch 28, 2012

Early this week, Mr. Matt Kelly said, “Hey, Allison, you should review Birdemic for your weekly column. It’ll be great!” And me, being the innocent and so naïve person that I am, trusted him and sat down to watch it.

What I thought would be an experience of greatness, of a bad movie along the lines of so many other bad movies that I love, turned out to be the equivalent of attending an eighth grade science fair where most of the children are severely autistic and prone to rocking back and forth while braiding lanyards and forcing them upon the hapless attendees, then shanking any male passersby if they are wearing Old Spice.

Birdemic was released in 2008, having spent a theoretical four years in production—the delay attributed to the slow personal funding of writer and director James Nguyen (Tidbit: the IMDB biography of Mr. Nguyen contains the phrase, “Also known as Master of Romantic Thrillers Among the new generation of auteurs in the 21st Century”), and panned with such incredible intensity that it became a cult classic.

Personally, I can’t imagine sitting through this film ever again, so to imagine that there’s a large group of people out there that actually enjoy watching this flaming pile of cloaca is quite difficult. Then to face myself with the task of hand writing letters to each of them explaining why they’re wrong… it’s rather daunting, but ultimately worth the effort.

This movie stars –and I use that term very, very loosely— Alan Bagh as the infinitely punchable software salesman, Rod, and Whitney Moore as the toothy fashion model, Nathalie. There some other “supporting casts”, but I’m not going to mention their names so they can begin to heal from the trauma of their experience.

Because of time constraints, and the sheer volume of rant I have on this movie, I’m going to attempt to limit myself to summarizing the first ten minutes of the film—which is great, because FOUR OF THOSE MINUTES are devoted to following dipshit Rod around in his blue mustang while the opening credits roll to a looped twenty second track that wishes it had been composed by Richard Band, but can’t quite claim to be of actual musical value.

The remaining six minutes introduce us to the incredible sound quality that will plague the rest of the movie: varying levels of sound, asinine levels of sound, sound that makes you want to learn to do post-production mixing so no one you truly care for will ever have to experience what you’re experiencing. Then if your senses weren’t feeling violated enough, Nguyen shoves a terrifying European waitress into view, who takes Rod’s order and, in a display of mercy not found often in this movie, disappears.

"Don't show fear, Nathalie, just don't show fear and maybe he'll go away."

While waiting for his bratwurst, Rod spots Nathalie and, as she flees because she feels him watching her like a total creep while she cuts her toast, he checks out her ass. After confirming her ass is of high quality, he suddenly realizes that she is the Girl For Him, leaving Helga heartbroken by doing a dine-and-dash and not even finishing the orange juice she so carefully poured for him.

Once he manages to catch up to his darling power-walker, awkward dialogue ensues. During this conversation, we discover that not only can he not act, he also is unable to hide his serial rapist nature. We are also able to confirm that, yes, he has never had sex in his life and likely never will.

"I'm gonna cut out her kidneys and use them for slippers."

Nathalie, sensing that she’s spending time in the company of a terrible actor, attempts to escape his company, but he chases her down once more and holds her at the vicious knife-point of painful awkwardness until she gives him her number.

So that’s about ten minutes, give or take a couple of minutes because I cannot bear to recount the details of this awful story any longer.

In sum, birds begin to indiscriminately attack the residents of Half Moon Bay by dropping bird bombs (not a euphemism—they’re actually exploding when they crash into buildings) on them, spraying them with acidic cloaca, or doing a fly-by tearing out of throats. Rod and Nathalie band together with another young couple and they take to the road, battling the birds and trying to save what little survivors remain in what appears to be some godawful birdocaplyse commercial for Greenpeace.

They used paper napkins, and now they must pay.

By studying this film, I’ve come up with a list of ten guidelines for those of us that will eventually be faced battling this fowl menace.

ALLISON’S SURVIVAL TIPS FOR SURVIVORS WHO WANT TO SURVIVE AN ATTACK FROM EXPLODING AVIANS THAT CHALLENGE THEIR SURVIVAL

1. Want to picnic on the cliffs or play on the beach during a bird attack? Go for it! Birds hate beaches!

2. You still need to follow basic traffic laws no matter how much your life may be in danger—there’s no excuse for dangerous driving.

3. If you happen to come across a group of people holed up in a bus, you should probably get them out of their safe environment—it’ll toughen them up.

4. It’s totally safe to leave your gas-filled car on the side of the road with the keys still in the ignition—no one will take it, especially during an emergency.

5. Hippies live in the woods and will dispense wisdom. They survive on tree bark, pine cones, and the beneficence of the Mother Goddess.

6. Gas isn’t that important to travel. Mom’s mini-van gets excellent mileage, so feel free to leave a few gallons behind—it’ll magically show back up in your car later.

7. It’s perfectly safe to drink water from a creek in the California woods—they’re totally unpolluted.

8. Convenience store clerks are devoted to their posts, and will not leave even during the birdacolypse, so don’t even think about snagging those Twinkies for free.

9. You’ll always know when to take cover, because when birds dive towards the ground they make missile noises and explode.

10. Don’t worry about stocking up on cash– even though the phone lines may be down, stores will still be able to accept your credit card.

Remember this face-- you'll be seeing it later tonight... at your window.

Now that you’re properly prepared for this avian devastation, I highly suggest that you never, never ever, NEVER watch this film. Do NOT queue it up on Netflix on Demand, do NOT subject yourself to the worst editing I’ve ever seen, do NOT watch the awkward, lingering transitions and the phone conversations that make you think that both parties are suffering from some sort of brain degradation. Pick another movie, hell, pick Troll 2 or Thankskilling—both of which Netflix offered up as suitable alternatives to this flick.

Just stay the flock away, and if you do decide to sit down and witness this debeakal, you’ll definitely egret it.

This Geek in Netflix: 5ive Girls

by AllisonnnnnMarch 21, 2012

In all of my years (months) reviewing Netflix on Demand horror movies, I’ve yet to see one that quite lended itself so well to being made into a porn.

Not that I watch horror movies looking to adapt them to pornography– I just hope that they become sex-loaded on their own for my, er, viewing pleasure.

Kinda an awkward picture choice, given the above paragraph.

Which means it is with much happiness that I share with you the 2006 horror flick, “5ive Girls”. No, that isn’t a leet typo leaking out as I write, it’s the actual spelling of the actual title. As opposed to the fake spelling of the fake title. Keep up, kids.

The same man who brought us the television series Todd and the Book of Pure Evil and the movie Ham & Cheese, Warren P. Sonoda, was not only the director of this fabulous movie that lends itself to satisfying most of my sexual needs, but also the writer. So, thank you, Mr. Sonoda. Especially for the spanking scene. (More on that later.)

Unsuccessful Sequels: The People That Hang Out Next to the Stairs.

We’ve got some faces you, the reader (See, I’m the writer and, if you’re reading this, that makes you the reader. Unless you’re not reading it. Then you can fuck off.), probably won’t recognize but will definitely appreciate.

First, we have Amy Lalonde (Possibly recognizable as Tracy Thurman in Romero’s Diary of the Dead as well as a bit part in Battlestar Galactica. I mean, she’s done other stuff, but you probably haven’t watched it, so don’t expect me to write sentences about all this shit you haven’t seen because you aren’t dedicated to the art of film. Jesus.), then Jennifer Miller (playing someone called Lap Vixen Thumper from something called Bitch Slap which I now need to hunt down like a crazed stalker), and finally Jordan Madley (who is way too hot, like way, way too hot, and you might know her from, most recently, an episode of Femme Fatales).

Oh, and there’s this other guy, Ron Perlman. You might have heard of him. No? Okay, well, let’s move into the plot then.

See, he's this actor that... oh, never mind.

We open on a cute little blonde, Elizbeth, sitting in a classroom, sketching Satanic images, you know, like you do in Catholic school. It’s kinda their paint-by-numbers fallback, if you aren’t hip to such things.

After a brief interaction with Father Drake (Perlman) that gives us the not so subtle hint that he’s molesting the girls, Elizabeth is suddenly possessed by something that possesses things. It’s all very complicated. After the possession is complete, Elizabeth is gone, only a bloody mess left at her desk. (It’s too easy, so I’m not going to.)

Before we can see the fallout of this bloody disappearance (British cursing or descriptive phrasing? You be the judge.), the movie suddenly attacks us with the phrase “FIVE YEARS LATER”. I find this all very unfair, as I wanted more blonde and less blood screen time.

So five years down the line, Alex Garrison, another young blonde chick, is getting dropped off at the same Catholic school by her father. Apparently, she’s done something (or not) that has broken the camels back, crossed the line, gone past the point of no return, thrown stones in glass houses, put two birds in one bush, allowed her loose lips to sink… wait, what?

Sour grapes cannot change their spots. What?

We learn that she is now one of five female students at the newly re-opened Saint Mark’s School for Girls, run by the kinda psychotic head mistress, Miss Pearce. Can someone please explain to me what, exactly, a “head mistress” does? I think I’ve met some in my time.

Slowly, the girls are introduced. You know, after the strip search. (Note: Not. Joking.) We have the witch, Connie, the badass, Mara, the blind anarchist, Cecila, the softie, Leah, and Alex, our female lead.

During this time, Miss Pearce also takes blood samples and, in doing so, causes Alex to reveal her telekinetic powers. All the girls have some sort of psychic power that is eventually revealed as the movie progresses, and some of them are more useful than others.

As the classes begin, strange things begin to happen. None of it is ever spooky, jump-inducing, or even tension building. (That’s okay, because this isn’t one of those movies.) Quite quickly, we see that Elizabeth (Remember, that blonde from the beginning of the movie? Man, it was only a few paragraphs ago, how could you forget already??) is haunting the school, trapped between life and death.

Part of aforementioned strip search. And hot.

The movie, however, isn’t about how Elizabeth haunts the five girls. She barely features, appearing every so often and never being a true threat. Where the threat lies, and this is fairly obvious from the get-go so I’m not spoiling it for anyone, is in Miss Pearce, who is messing with things she ought not to be messin’ with, to quote scads of other movies.

Now, why should you watch this film? First off, it has hot girls in Catholic school girl outfits. That’s a seller right there. Secondly, there’s a bit of sexy school girl lesbianism. Thirdly, of course, there’s some bare-chestedness. Most importantly, however, we’ve got a spanking scene. Yup– plaid school girl skirt up around the waist, bent over a desk, being beaten with a yard stick by a hot blonde in a pencil skirt and blouse.

And some of you might be reading this and going, “OH MY GAWD, YOU ARE THE SICKEST PERSON EVER, HOW COULD YOU PUT THIS IN YOUR REVIEW?!” But I’d like to point out that for each person that says that, there’s five people queuing up this movie right now.

Also, sickest person ever? I’d argue that. Here’s a true story, a tidbit into the life of your vaguely beloved author.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at my favorite club. A fully grown man at least a decade older than me approached me and asked if he could sit on my lap. He disclaimered it by telling me that there was nothing pervy about it. I declined, and then he explained that he had a particular fetish for women who dress as taxi cabs and let him ride them, piggy-back style. And that, if they won’t dress like cabs, he just wants to sit on them. I told him no, no thank you, please no thank you, please goodbye, and bolted.

THIS IS A TRUE STORY. MY LIFE IS HELL.

She is, admittedly, not having the best time either.

In conclusion: school girls. Spanking. Skirts. Win. Having a fetish for anthropomorphic taxi cabs? Lose.

This movie (back to the topic at hand), also has this weird Satanic Care Bear scene that is infinitely amazing. Not because it’s filmed excellently, but because it’s a fucking Devil Care Bear scene. You don’t see that every day. Or any day, really.

Was this film good? It was sketchy. Some points were great, some points, not so much. The soundtrack seemed as though every episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer was condensed into one movie. The dialogue was occasionally spotty, and some things simply did not make sense or were not followed through with (i.e. Father Drake’s love of molestation).

But it was an easy watch, an entertaining watch, and not exactly typical. There were some great shots in there, great lighting (sometimes), and amusing (if out of place) one-liners that tried to make this movie smarter than it was.

So do what I would do: pop some popcorn and grab some lotion and a box of tissues, and fire this film up on Netflix. Just make sure your blinds are closed before you begin– you don’t want any more awkward moments with the neighbors.

This Geek in Netflix: Ils

by AllisonnnnnMarch 13, 2012

At the Silent House press conference a couple of weeks ago, its ladying lady, Elizabeth Olsen, mentioned her current favorite horror movie, a French flick called Ils. (Translation: take a goddamned French class, people! I can’t do all of your work for you.) With much curiosity, I queued it up and, days later, I’m still not quite sure how to feel about it.

They're probably watching The Orphanage. Or Bio-Dome.

There’s not a good deal to say on the film’s background. While there’s several reviews on IMDB and a middling score on Rotten Tomatoes, this movie doesn’t seem like it really entered the festival circuit or make much of an attempt (any attempt?) at the box office.

The actors are, as they tend to be in European movies, European and therefore foreign to ye old readership here at Geekscape. Not saying that you’re ignorant. Just saying that I’m ignorant and, so as not to feel so alone, projecting my ignorance onto you. It’s a bonding experience, really. Don’t you feel closer to me already?

American-centric knowledge-base-wise (I’m not sure how I feel about that phrasing. How do you feel about it? Comfortable?), the only real recognizable entities on this film are the directors (who also functioned as the writers), David Moreau and Xavier Palud, who directed the American version of The Eye (you know, that flick with Jennifer Lo–, er, Jessica Alba), which wasn’t that great.

She likes to hold her pillow and pretend it's Edward.

The movie starts off with the heading:

Snagov, Romania October 6, 2002 11:45p.m.

I like it when movies have a time-stamp. Makes me feel secure. Anyhow, after the time-stamp, we start with a mother and cunty daughter driving along a road at night, perfectly peaceful (oh, that’s a lie) until a strange goat-like shape darts in front of the car.

Okay, it wasn’t a goat. Could have been a person. Possibly both. A goat-person.

They go nose-first into some sort of pole, which somehow causes their radio to turn on and blast some annoying metal. When they try to re-start their car and leave, the engine won’t turn so the mother gets out, pops the hood, and fiddles with the engine.

Apparently there was a crossover with Sliders going on at the same time, as she was sucked into a portal. Or something. Basically, she vanishes, leaving her cunty daughter to plod around the car calling for her like a sad little sheep… until the bushes whisper a response.

She does the smart thing (hurrah!) and bolts into the car, rolls up the windows, locks the door, and discovers that the keys are gone. Someone outside beeps the car to unlock, so Cunty Dwarf grabs her cell phone and calls the police. Who put her on hold. And it starts raining.

Then the car explodes. It’s really tragic. The phone goes flying from the vehicle and the last thing that we see before we cut to the opening credits is a tiny hand wrapping around the phone as the police dispatcher finally picks up.

I might have made that all up. I’m kinda in a mood. A mood where I make things up. Or this may be made up. YOU’LL NEVER KNOW UNLESS YOU WATCH THE MOVIE! BWAHAHAHA!

Cut to the next day. We are introduced to Clementine, hottie French teacher, as she wraps up for the afternoon and begins her drive home, complete with sexy little phone call to her husband, Lucas, and rubbernecking at the abandoned vehicle last seen with Cunty Dwarf.

It's like Titanic, but with more stabbings.

After a few scenes of domestic bliss with her husband, Clementine curls up on the couch to go through her students’ work. However, before she gets too far in, the phone rings. The noises on the other end are indistinguishable.

At 3:45AM, she wakes up, hearing strange noises outside, and selfishly wakes her sleeping husband so they can check on the noises together as opposed to letting him continue to sleep like she would if she actually loved him. On my planet, that’s grounds for a divorce right there.

Anyhow, they manage to stumble their way downstairs to discover that Clementine’s car has been moved. See, that’s what kids do these days. Forget toilet papering, it’s all about car relocation.

Honey, I think those kids relocated our car again.

When Lucas goes to confront the car, it pulls a Herbie the Love Bug and drives off into the night. Being intelligent people that were clearly designed for an indie romance rather than a horror movie, they call the cops (which turn out to be useless) and decide to deal with it in the morning.

Then the lights go out.

Too much of a cliffhanger for you? Are your fingers tightly wrapped around the arms of your chair? Mine would be, but I’m in bed. And typing. I’m not the mutant with four arms that you think me to be.

Eventually, the monster is revealed (finally, a movie to break the recent streak of showing me the big bad by the three-minute mark!) and the audience is left to mull over, well, everything. This movie takes a very common beast, one that features in a surprising number of horror films, and puts a strong slant on it, forcing it at the viewer at a new angle that they didn’t necessarily expect.

She is about to find out what makes Jack a dull boy.

Monster-digestion aside, it’s a little hard for me to make fun of this movie. It’s not that it’s fantastic– it certainly doesn’t reach the level of The Orphanage, nor is it mediocre in such a way that causes a lack of commentary. It was just the right mix of story, isolation, and disturbing claustrophobic imagery that ultimately caused me a sort of unsettled discontent.

The “seven days…” call I received after viewing this film certainly didn’t help my comfort level, either.

So, if you want something that deviates from your standard horror plot and digs itself into your bones, not so much on a fear level as much as with actual horror (in the way that we no longer use that word), Ils might be for you. Just ignore the shitty video quality Netflix gives you with this one.

This Geek in Netflix: Ghosts of Goldfield

by AllisonnnnnMarch 6, 2012

Rarely do I get stir-crazy and bored while watching horror movies. There’s nearly always something redemptive about them, whether it be a great scene (Ghost Ship, I’m looking at you), a great soundtrack, or hysterically bad acting. Truly, I usually can find something to latch onto.

2007’s Ghosts of Goldfield is one of the few films that I gave up on trying to enjoy and instead embraced the boredom that comes with those few movies that aren’t good,but aren’t laughably shitty either.

This is just too easy. I'd feel guilty about taking advantage.

The acting wasn’t good, even though there’s a definite spread of talent. Our lead actress, Marnette Patterson, is a constant television actress with the standard extra roles on the even more standard host of shows. Our cliched “sexy chick”, Mandy Amano (who is quite attractive, I will say), has been in minor roles in movies such things as Coyote Ugly (one of my guilty pleasures) and Crank: High Voltage (less a guilty pleasure and more of a source of masturbation material). Really, though, the only actor of note (and the only one that can actually act) is Kellan Lutz.

You know, Kellan Lutz. Emmett Cullen from the Twilight series. Poseidon from Immortals. Kellan Lutz. Weird sorta blip there. Speaking of blips, let’s just go into the beginning of the movie summary with an awkward transition. Yay!

Kellan Lutz, god of wetness, god of moisture, and things that are wet.

The scene is set: a desert drive in a white SUV overlaid with the opening credits and pictures of old ghost towns. We hear the chatter of inane kids in their early twenties regarding their road trip to a haunted motel, where I pull the gem:

“Today we’re headin’ up to the famous Goldfield Hotel to see if we can find us some real live ghosts.”

If poor phrasing was a sin, this guy would be dead already.

Also! We get to see the ghost, prompting the following mid-movie-watching note:

Didn’t you guys learn anything from Muoi: The Legend of a Potrait? Jesus. Stop revealing the goddamned end boss 50 seconds into the movie. Who do I need to call to make this stop happening? SOMEONE, GET GEORGE ROMERO ON THE PHONE, STAT.

As we get some degree of introduction to the characters, we learn that the blonde is a psychology major, working on her thesis which, as far as I can tell, has absolutely nothing to do with psychology. Brunette is a red shirt, working on her five-finger discount and mad faux-lesbian skills. She’ll be the first to die, just before Mr. English-Ain’t-Mah-First-Language gets taken out by a rogue piece of rusty pipe. There are also three guys, but they’re indistinguishable from each other until about forty-five minutes in.

The car ride continues until the blonde falls asleep in the fading light and we get to flash-forward to the scene where one of the guys, a hipster-looking douchebag, gets killed. So not only is the monster being revealed again, so is one of the deaths.

Of course, I could see hipsters being knifed in the skull all day and not get sick of it, so it’s not such a bad thing. God, I hope we see it like eight more times.

Blonde also hears, “Come back to me…” as she wakes, whispered by the ghost. When she comes to, she’s clutching her necklace.

I brightened this picture and upped the contrast just for *you*.

Okay, how many people want to bet that by the end of this movie, everyone is dead but the blonde, who is not killed by the ghost because the ghost is actually her grandmother or great-grandmother who died while looking for her baby (who was kidnapped or whatever) who ended up being perfectly fine and starting a family of her own? WHO WANTS TO LAY SOME MONEY ON THE LINE?!

I’m at the 3 minute, 15 second mark of this movie, and if this doesn’t work out like I predicted, I’m going to punish myself by eating a chocolate chip cookie. If it does work out, I’m eating a chocolate chip cookie *and* making a booty call. (Post-movie update: I might have been wrong, but the theme was there. I’m still making that call.)

Around sunset, the car dies while taking a shortcut to the hotel. Bad dialogue ensues about why the car broke down but, really, the car was probably just rebelling against the douchey-est haircut known to man that the driver was sporting. If he let someone cut it to something that contained lesser levels of douchery, the car would start again.

BRB, going completely out of my established character.

After much whining, they start walking to the hotel. I can’t even speak to the line of “We’ve been walking so long, it’s dark already,” when they started walking at goddamned sunset. Someone punch the goddamned brunette for me. Just reach through the goddamned screen and just pop her one.

During their night wanderings, they find an old cemetary. Good for them. Anyhow, the little cunty brunette decides she doesn’t wanna go into the cemetery and you can’t make her, waaaah. Until, of course, the whispering starts. “Bloooody finger, bloooooody finnggerrrr!”

Sorry. Was re-living my campfire story days.

“Where’s my baby? Where’s my baaaabyyyyyy?” followed by, “Closer, my darling, closer.” Which was followed by a coyote howl. OF COURSE IT WAS.

"This place lacks room service. I'm giving it three stars on Yelp."

The blonde experiences double-vision and a sudden sepia-toned flashback where we get to witness some godawful dancing and the reveal that one hundred (or whatever) years ago, the blonde used to be a waitress in the bar where the ghost worked (while alive, you nitwits).

When she comes out of it, the brunette is racing towards her and one of the idiots… er, men… is missing. Mike. Whichever one that one was.

He ends up popping out from behind a grave, scaring everyone, and then announcing repeatedly that he “got” them all. You know, being an idiotic horror movie stereotype.

So, death order as stands is:

1. Cunty brunette who needs a good punching
2. Mike (may or may not have English issues)
3. Idiot with English issues (may or may not be Mike)

After their brush with stupidity, the five kids head into the suddenly located ghost town to hopefully suddenly locate the hotel.

Hotel = suddenly located! \o/

Let’s take a moment to note that this is supposed to be a ghost town, you know, one of those California/Nevada/Arizona towns that was all hustle and bustle while people were working towards their Manifest Destiny or mining the shit out of the mountains and then dried up for a variety of reasons, generally in the 1920s.

So please ignore the goddamned stop sign in front of the hotel. Oh, and the open bar across the street from the hotel. You know, in the town that one of the less mentally disabled kids said had no vistors aside from the occasional tourist.

After awkward and vaguely illogical conversation with the bartender and his lone patron, the Scooby gang gets a key to the abandoned (and fully furnished and clean) hotel, with instructions not to go into room 109. (Because you know those instructions’ll be followed.)

The bartender explains that George Winfield, Elizabeth’s boss and sex-patron, killed poor Elizabeth in room 109. During this story, the bartender gets incredibly, oddly emotional about Elizabeth and then, when asked if he somehow knew her (kids can’t do math), he explains that he’s seen paintings of her and basically put all of his sex drive into pastels and turned into a total dead-chick-stalking creep.

I may have elaborated on that last part.

The look of concern you're seeing is them watching the final cut of this film.

After story time is over, the kids walk over to the hotel, where the blonde has another sepia-toned flashback where she sees Elizabeth receive the gift of a necklace (Whaaat? Like the necklace the blonde was playing with at the beginning of the film? SHOCKING.) from her beau “for the baby”.

Back in modern day, the cunty brunette steals the hotel desk’s bell while the idiot who likes to scare people scares people again and then busts out the alcohol.

It’s almost like they want to die.

The next hour of this movie is spent with them roaming around multiple locations cobbled together to represent a hotel that is mostly birthed from locations that were clearly not built in the early 1900s. From fire sprinklers to uniform gray carpeting to flouresent lights to modern plumbing, the hotel fails to provide any atmosphere except for the sad sort of desperate amusement one gets when visiting one of those truck stops/mini-casinos that dot the highways in Nevada.

Topless and inebriated-- just like I like them.

What are they doing while roaming? Fuck if I know. There seems to be an overarching plot… kinda. I mean, it’s mostly there. And then there’s all these little potential side plots that amount to nothing and then there’s just severe amounts of minor plot inconsistencies that make the whole thing rather shaky, and I’m not sure if I should blame those issues on the screenwriter or the editor.

In sum: Editing fail. Script fail. Character fail. Plot fail. Location fail. Fail fail. (Or would that be “success fail”? I just wanted to write “fail fail”. Seemed like a good idea.)

I don’t suggest queuing this up on your Netflix. It’s simply not worth it. I can’t even design a drinking game around this, other than “drink every time Kellan Lutz is hot”, which is a totally gimme.

Until next week, kids.