Zombos' Closet

1408 (2007) Room for Terror

ZC Rating 4 of 7: Very Good

While I readily admit that some hotel rooms I've spent time in were murder, none of them ever tried to kill me. Unfortunately for writer Mike Enslin (John Cusack), room 1408 in the Dolphin Hotel punches his number with a vengeance. With an ominous song blaring from the one-hour clock-radio heralding doom, hot and cold running ghosts, and concierge service to die from, he's in quite a pickle; but, after all, he did insist on spending the night in it.

What is it about writers? Especially depressed ones that have lost a loved one and search for some truth behind that long dark curtain of the night? Enslin's on a quest to find just one ghost, one real moan, one real hint of life beyond the pall. He's so obsessed, he's lost track of his own life, and wife, while spending night after fruitless night searching for hope shining off a ghostly glimmer. I feel for him. I watch Ghost Hunters on the Sci-Fi Channel again and again, hoping for just that moment, that one shining, incontrovertible bit of proof there's more to death than meets the unseeing eye. If and when that moment comes, I hope it doesn't try to kill me, too.

That's the mystery of room 1408: what is the malevolent force residing in that room, driving people to mutilate and kill themselves? In true J-horror fashion, we never learn the answer, but the question is well-illustrated in psychological, not gory, terms, driving Enslin to fight both the room's and his own inner demons. And they keep coming on strong, giving him little respite nor a good night's sleep.

The postcard warning him to stay out of room 1408 is too enticing for him, so instead of heeding the warning, he heads to New York City to the Dolphin Hotel, to insist on spending the night in a room that's killed fifty-six other guests—with one drowned in his chicken soup. The hotel manager, Olin (Samuel L. Jackson), sums it up best: "It's an evil f**cking room."

Not even Olin's detailed scrapbook of news clippings and death photographs convinces Enslin to forgo 1408 and spend the night in the penthouse suite; but it does provide for a chilling, tension-building walk as Enslin peruses it, page by gruesome-death page, during his walk from the elevator to 1408. Once he enters the room, and nothing immediately jumps out of the closet, he relaxes a bit and pops open the bottle of high-priced liquor Olin tried to bribe him with; but that lets the spirits out, metaphorically speaking.

And once they're out, hell starts to follow as the room's evil entity makes its presence known by blaring "We've Only Just Begun" by the Carpenters, and fooling around with his turn-down service. When he can't get out of the room, now that he realizes it really wasn't a good idea to enter it in the first place, his hand-held recorder becomes more than a voice-recorder; it allows him to vent his fear, his anger, and his thoughts, giving us a front-row seat to watch his mental state go from cocky to scared sh*tless in no time flat.

As the room's temperature shifts from hot to arctic, and the paintings on the wall take on a Night Gallery-style life of their own, Enslin's fear turns to rage as he fights the good fight to leave the room on his terms, not splattered on the pavement below, or, like one previous guest, stitching up his own, self-inflicted throat slice from ear to ear.

Cusack handles the three-sixty mood swing with verve, and his disoriented performance brings us into the room alongside him. Horror is best when served alone, and he proves it by keeping us asking if and how he'll find the way out. Without lavish gore, director Mikael Håfström increases the shocks by first showing little, disquieting events that rattle Enslin's composure, then increases the assault on his nerves with CGI-enhanced calamities that build in intensity. Gabriel Yared's effective music is mixed in with harsh, discordant sounds and the pleasant-sounding, but tauntingly malign voice on the other end of the telephone, promising more unpleasant room service to come. All of this plays on our nerves, as well as Enslin's.

Never has room service been this bad, or this much fun. In a summer of horror that can too easily become mired in uninspired by-the-body-count nihilistic splatter, 1408 goes back to the old school for its scares.  And it works.

The New Aurora and the Old LAPCO

My interview with Gennaro (Jerry) Giammarino III of the new Aurora Plastics Corporation sparked quite a bit of commentary and controversy from modelers and fans who remember LAPCO (Lost Aurora Plastics Company), Jerry's first attempt at reviving the Aurora brand of modeling. You can see some of their prototypes from the Chiller 2000 Convention at CultTVman.

I approached Jerry with these concerns and here's his response:

Let me put it like this. I am not going to pull any punches with anyone, so here it goes. The 2 partners I had toward the end of LAPCO's demise were Brian Theriault and Bill Giordano. They were and still are the best 2 people anyone can ever wish to have as partners. They are fantastic and they deserved to have been rewarded for the efforts they made and helped us with. LAPCO's demise was not caused by them. What happened was plain and simple.

Glow In the Dark Zombies!

How can any self-disrespecting horrorhead pass up these unwholesomely adorable flesh-eating playthings? Drag your worm-eaten carcass over to Archie McPhee and order some gruesome fun today!

Glow-in-the-Dark
Flesh Eating Zombies Play Set

Wreak havoc on your sister's precious diorama with this Flesh Eating Zombie Play Set! Each set includes nine 1" to 3.25" tall, hard vinyl zombies, complete with blank stares, gaping mouths, open wounds and missing limbs! Turn off the lights and they glow! Fantastic undead fun for the whole family!

Disclaimer: Zombos Closet of Horror does not endorse, affiliate, condone, or recommend flesh-eating zombie toys for non-horrorhead use. Player discretion is advised. Furthermore, any resemblance to living-dead zombies and their families is purely coincidental.

Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (2007)

ZC Rating 2 of 7: Fair (misses the fantastic spirit of the comic book story by a mile)

I was grievously disappointed with Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer. I wasn't grievously disappointed with the first Fantastic Four film, just very disappointed. But this second film definitely cut me to the quick. Deeply. I expected so much more.

In what's called, by older comic fans, the Silver Age of Marvel Comics, the arrival of Galactus and his herald, the Silver Surfer, is a high point in the very successful collaboration between Stan Lee, writer, and Jack Kirby, illustrator. In this landmark story, the turbulent Sixties' philosophical struggle between the Flower Power hippies and the war machine Establishment is reflected in the relationship between the quintessential flower-child, Silver Surfer, and his nasty job for the ultimate status quo Establishment man, the Devourer of Worlds and wielder of the Power Cosmic, Galactus. Aside from making for terrific illustrations used in those nifty psychedelic black light posters, the depth of the storyline—unusual for comic books up until then—was heavy, man, and downright righteous. But you'd not know any of that after watching this film.

Instead, what we get is more standard chuckles between Ben and Johnny, Susan's concern over how their celebrity is ruining her marriage and family plans, along with another one of her "Oh, damn, I'm nude again in public" scenes, and simplistic children's twaddle that completely erases the grandeur, nobility, and greater depth depicted in the comic book for gosh sakes. Digest that last sentence again: the 1960's comic book storyline had more depth than this movie.

Hannibal Rising (2007) Sympathy for the Devil?

Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste...
If you meet me, have some courtesy
Have some sympathy, and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or I'll lay your soul to waste...
The Rolling Stones

ZC Rating 2 of 7: Fair

How does one give sympathy to the devil? That's the challenge Thomas Harris faced when writing his background story on the birth of one of the most riveting fictional human monsters, Hannibal Lecter.

Of course, the first question to ask is why do it? Giving tea and sympathy to a consummately evil character that sends shivers down your spine with just that look and just that smile is quite an accomplishment. Why ruin it? When the Borg where humanized in Star Trek The Next Generation, the franchise lost a perfectly frightening bunch of monsters with no redeeming social values, and future stories lacked the visceral fear of resistance is futile, prepare to be assimilated.

Not only do we learn how Hannibal becomes a cannibal--blame it on a traumatic life experience--we have to hear it through Thomas Harris' flowery-mouth dialog appropriate for literature, not a movie. For a laconic character that's short on words but long on cuisine, this is not a good thing; a known unknown-evil is more worrisome and scary than a known known-evil (to coin a phrase from Donald Rumsfeld).

Legendary Aurora To Return?

ZC Note: As of 05/30/2011, the new Aurora hasn't materialized. Instead, Monarch and Moebius have dominated the model kit scene.

The famed Aurora Plastics Corporation may be back in business, and more classic monsters than you can shake a flaming torch at are on the operating table, ready to be born again to delight old-time fans and make new ones. But it's not Dr. Frankenstein plotting to take over the modeling world this time, it's Gennaro (Jerry) Giammarino III, heir to the family that made Aurora a legendary model kit maker beloved by fans and copied by imitators years after it closed it's doors.

But bringing back the monsters is only part of his plans. Many of the original kits are being re-released with the current generation of budding model kit builders in mind. The time has come for a new generation of fans to experience the magic of Aurora. Jerry answers the following questions about the new Aurora Plastics Corporation. 

What led you to restart the legendary Aurora Plastics Corporation brand of model kits?

While doing a search on the Internet and also checking for any Aurora items on eBay, my Father and I were quite amazed as to the popularity for the old Aurora kits. Considering this, we decided that since we had molds in storage as well as being able to lease molds from another company that has some of the Aurora molds, we would try bringing part of the Aurora Line back for old time customers as well as bringing new items to the line. We own many Aurora Prototypes that were not done, and since we have them we might as well try to do them. We also want to try to bring modeling back for kids of this generation and we know it is a gamble, but we can try. We are in this for modelers and for fun, since we both love the model industry.

What challenges are you facing as you restart the company?

There are many challenges to any company. Our main challenge is that people want everything all at once and it can't be done. We want to establish the new Aurora first, with a line of 15 model kits, see how it goes and then take it from there. Again, money is not a problem, but I am not going to throw away my money by having it flop. If we see that the kits take off and that we can keep the company going by doing the old and adding new, then we will do our best to serve the public.

Another challenge is that there are a few people out there who have already started to try to intimidate us by telling us we have no right to do this item, or that the Box Art is not ours, and other legal challenges, etc. We will not be deterred by them and will do what we feel is right.

I can tell you that we overcame one big Challenge and that was securing a contract with Universal Studios to do some kits. I thought we would be challenged, but it seems that they are very much interested in working with us and we are in negotiations with them, and by next week we will have some better idea where we stand. It seems they are very eager to work with us, as we are eager to work with them, and we are going to do the best we can to please them as well as the modelers of today.

Tim Curran's Dead Sea

ZC Rating 3 of 7: Good

They expected torment and death.They expected thirst and drowning. They expected starvation. They expected suffering in all its guises and, yes, they expected things to come at them out of the mist, the sort of things that had crawled alive and breathing from nightmares and cellars and dank dark places. And on this matter they were right.

--Dead Sea

"Oh, stop being such a spoilsport," Zombos said, helping Zimba aboard the yacht. Chef Machiavelli, dressed in his Speedo Fiji Garden watershorts, pouted as he passed me, waving his finger.

"No. No. And no again." I was adamant. "Let others go down to the sea in ships. I'm not setting foot on that deck, no way, no how."  Zombos threw up his hands in disgust. I folded my arms tighter in defiance.

After reading Tim Curran's novel, Dead Sea, there was no way in or outside of hell I was going to put one foot aboard any ship. I didn't want to have my eyeballs sucked out of their sockets through my butt, nor did I want some gelatinous, throbbing, hairy ovoid turning my insides out. Between Jaws, the Discovery Channel's Deadliest Catch, and now Dead Sea, I hate the water and every hungry, slimy thing swimming through it. Jacques Cousteau be damned.

And damned is what the crew of the Mara Corday find themselves when the oily luminous fog washes over them and knocks out all of their high-tech navigation equipment. Unlike Scott Carey's increasing problems with his diminishing stature in The Incredible Shrinking Man, after a similarly bizarre encounter with a luminous mist while boating, the Mara Corday's crew has to deal with the increasing encounters--and sizes--of the ubiquitous and ever-larger pelagic inhabitants of an ungodly and unearthly ocean. And boy are they hungry; both the crew and those slimy, endlessly-tentacled inhabitants, that is.

A Bozo No-No: Stupid Parents and Horror Films Don't Mix

Chindi spotted this unbelievable article regarding another instance of stupid parents doing stupid things; like taking kids to see Hostel: Part II, a film that has graphic castration, decapitation, cannibalism, vivisection, and really really rude townspeople.

Anthony Burch over at Filmwad can't believe it, either. And why this film isn't rated NC-17 boggles my mind. How many Hannibals are we mindlessly creating by bringing kids into a film that would terrify and disgust most adults?

What the hell is wrong with these people? I had nightmares for years after seeing Night of the Living Dead when I was twelve. But then there wasn't an any-stupid-idiot-can-understand-this ratings-guide available back then. Do we need to make a special ratings guide for idiots? 

What will it take to get through to these people?

Hostel Part II (2007)

ZC Rating 4 of 7: Very Good

I wanted to take a long hot shower after watching Hostel: Part II. I felt dirty. The horror genre is a distasteful, discomforting one to begin with; that's what sustains it. It's supposed to both titillate and frighten us at the same time with shocking images, unpleasant sounds, and extreme, sometimes disgusting, subject matter. But then there's Eli Roth's Hostel series, rolling up all those elements into a nice and tidy puke-ball of horrifyingly intense and nauseating brutality. The problem is that he does it so convincingly well.

Unlike another, albeit less gruesome, torture-flick, 1970's Mark of the Devil, there are no gimmicky vomit bags to be handed out here to lighten the experience, though now's the time they'd come in handy. Time was, you went to a horror movie to be grossed-out, but in a fun way. Thrills and chills, and some red spills, but ha-ha, just make believe your sick and keep that vomit bag pristine because it makes a wonderful souvenir.

Of course there are many horror films, from grind-house to art-house, that do their best to make you upchuck your last meal or your complacency, but Roth's fictional Slovakian village, filled with menacing townspeople—including the children—pushes your complacency right out the window, then stomps on it's fingers as it desperately dangles from the windowsill trying to avoid that long fall downward.

Max Sparber's Essential Ghoul's Record Shelf

Max Sparber has got one creepy, but very groovy record shelf. Leaving no tombstone unturned, no crypt left unopened, he seeks out new supernatural life in his quest for the morbid, the bizarre, and the ever-lasting bumps in the night-music that lie between the pit of our wildest nightmares, and the summit of our unholy dreams. Cool.

Join us as he dares to speak...

How did your fascination with music that touches on the ghastly and supernatural come about?

A few places. Firstly, like quite a few American children, I had several Halloween records when I was young, including Bobby "Boris" Pickett's The Monster Mash and several collections of Halloween sound effects. As an adult, I started tracking down albums like this to compile Halloween mix tapes for my friends, and began to realize that an enormous amount of music had been written with supernatural themes. That's when I began collecting in earnest.

What is it about supernatural-themed music that makes you seek it out and collect?

Well, I have a notorious need for novelty—I get easily bored with middle-of-the-road culture, and, frankly, how many love songs need to be written? Or, at least, how many love songs that rhyme "June" and "moon"? With supernaturally themed music, you get this marvelous variety of songs, including music in which the singers literally impersonate classic movie monsters, as well as genuinely spooky stuff, and quite a few albums on which actual movie monster stars appear. Trust me—if you can find a recording with Vincent Price or Boris Karloff on it, it's worth getting.

Snakes On a Plane (2006)

ZC Rating 3 of 7: Good

"When I say snakes, you say plane," yelled a giddy fellow in the front of the theater.

"Snakes!"

"Plane!" everybody yelled back.

As we waited for the 11:59am showing of Snakes on a Plane, the audience was euphoric. Again and again, he yelled "Snakes!" and we - I mean they - yelled back "Plane!"

Another roar went up when the lights dimmed and the trailer for Black Snake Moan, which also stars Samuel L. Jackson, brought a rousing cheer. So what is it about Snakes on a Plane and the in-your-face mother-f**ker acting style of Samuel Jackson that has this audience so hyped?

Murder-Set-Pieces (2004)

ZC Rating 2 of 7: Fair

Around two-thirds into Murder-Set-Pieces I looked at my watch. I don't do that often when watching a film. In this case, though, I looked at it twice. I really wanted to get it over with, and, unlike some reviewers less meticulous (or masochistic) than me, I always watch the whole movie just to make sure I don't miss anything that remotely resembles art, or scares, or anything that stands out as a memorable horror-moment. I was disappointed that I didn't find anything like that here.

At the end of the movie I sighed with relief and wondered what I ever did to the staff at The Haunted Report to warrant them sending me this emotionless and tensionless excursion into the mind and actions of a one-dimensional, neo-Nazi, muscle-bound serial killing photographer prowling Las Vegas for his next torture-gig photo shoot. America's Top Model has more tension. Maybe I should send the staff a fruit-basket for the holidays. Then maybe they'd send me the A stuff.

More Turkey Stuffing Frankenstein Versus the Creature From Blood Cove (2005)

ZC Rating 1 of 7: Poor (even with the lap dance)

Disclaimer: The following review is filled with cheap shots, cheesy double-entendres, and puerile, trashy writing. Read it at your own risk.

Rain began to sideslip across the windowpanes and the bedroom grew darker. Zombos alternately draped himself over his bed, the settee, and the cushy leather wing chairs. We were at our wits end, he from a bad summer cold and the doldrums, and I from wet-nursing him. We had exhausted the claret, the sherry, and now our beloved green fairy--Absinthe--was almost gone. The situation was becoming intolerable. The thunder storm refused to let up, dwindle down, or simply go away.

Glenor broke up the tedium with the morning mail. Among the bills, personal correspondence, and advertisements (Zombos loves receiving those reassuring messages from Forest Lawn Cemeteries), there was a soggy package from William Winckler, director of Frankenstein versus the Creature from Blood Cove.

"Well, it is in black and white," I said, unwrapping it. Zombos loves black and white films. I waved it in front of him.

He waved his hand in the air while blowing his nose. I took that for a yes. I popped the disc into the DVD player and poured out the last drops of Absinthe.

"Lap dance special?" Zombos said as the menu choices appeared. "What is that?"

I shrugged and clicked the remote to select it. The both of us were quickly nonplussed. "My word, I suppose that gives new meaning to the phrase 'Frankenstein's monster,' " I said.

 "Good lord," said Zombos, "if Zimba sees this she will pickle me. Quick, select something else."

The rain was coming down in bucket-fulls by the time we started the main feature. At Zombos' request, I held onto the remote and positioned myself close to the door, just in case Zimba popped in during one of the numerous 'talent and asset' cheesecake scenes. Frankenstein's Monster and the Creature were not the only 'big monsters' in this movie.

We watched the Creature, a biogenetically-engineered one, escape the mad scientists' lair by jogging out the front door and gate, heading straight for the beach.

"Did the Creature just walk out the front door and gate?" asked Zombos.

"Well, no, exactly. Technically he jogged out the front door and gate," I corrected him.

Loopy scientists, dressed in their Clorox-white lab coats, drinking coffee after dinner and chatting, decide, on a whim, to go and find Frankenstein's Monster to continue their experiments, now that the Creature had escaped and is sun-bathing on the beach.

They travel to Shellvania, which probably lies next to Exxonia, in the Gulf of Transylvania. Faster than you can say boo! they easily find the Monster in an unmarked grave using their trusty pocket-sized Reanimated-Tissue Traces Finder.

"What in hell is that thing? Is that made out of Legos?"asked Zombos.

"It does look like it," I said. "Why, just last week at Walmart I saw Lego kits for Star Wars and Transformers. Be easy to make a Reanimated-Tissue Traces Finder, I’d think.

"Amazing," said Zombos. "In my day, it was either Slinkies, Silly-Putty, or Mr.Potato Head."

While digging up the Frankenstein Monster, a werewolf attacks them, is frightened off, then attacks them again--in broad daylight. After being viciously assaulted, sort of, by the well-groomed werewolf, and shooting it dead, the unperturbed scientists decide to chat on and on about its medical condition.  Eventually more digging ensues.

"I would have been hauling ass right about then," I said. Zombos nodded in agreement.

"Hey, look, the werewolf is Eddie Munster all grown up," said Zombos as we watched the cursed thing transform back to its human shape. "No wonder it looked like his Woof Woof doll."

Back in Los Angeles ( I wonder how they got Frankenstein's Monster past Homeland Security?), the mad scientists set to work on brainwashing the Monster to follow only their orders. Meanwhile, Percy, Bill and Dezzirae are off to the deserted beach--where the Creature ran off to of course--to shoot a photo spread for Kitty Kat magazine, highlighting Gabrielle's talented twin assets.

"Lord! Now those monsters are scary!" said Zombos.

Getting Creature is near vibes, mayhem ensues, sending them hustling back to the Kitty Kat magazine office, but their editor sends them back to the beach for more photos; which leads to our next suacy and well-endowed model, Beula, making the mistake of swimming when danger is nearby. She obviously hasn’t seen Jaws, or even Piranha. The Creature pops up to bore us to death--I meant to say--maul her to death. More mayhem ensues as the Creature follows our panic-stricken trio to the parking lot, then to the--I didn't see this one coming--mad scientists lair. Calling for help by ringing the doorbell, Bill, Percy and Dezzirae are invited inside, only to become prisoners because they've seen too much. By this time, so have we.

Frankenstein's Monster is sent to kick the Creature's butt, but instead, gets his butt kicked. Mad Dr. Lazaroff (Larry Butler) helps him recuperate. He also receives a visit from the ghost of Frankenstein.

"Is that Ed Wood?" asked Zombos as the ghostly apparition appears to torment Dr. Lazaroff.

"Can't be, he's not wearing an Angora sweater," I said.

"Roger Corman, then?"

"Not dead yet," I answered.

"Oh, right. It must be old Victor Frankenstein himself, then," Zombos concluded.

"Story aside, the cinematography is good, don't you think?" I asked. "The action scenes between the Monster and the Creature lack bite, though. Seems more like they're having a hissy fit."

Zombos agreed. "The pacing is non-existent. The camera angles are fair."

When Selena Silver goes into her shamelessly gratuitous pole dance routine in the seedy bar, all hell breaks loose when Frankenstein's Monster enters. It’s pointless for me to describe how he got there in the first place, or why we’re even there.

"Is that Ron Jeremy?" asked Zimba, standing at the door. 

"Why yes, I think it--" Zombos turned a shade paler than he normally is.

I sensed a battle brewing, one more horrific than the cat-fight between the Monster and the Creature. I thankfully turned off the movie and left the bedroom. Wait a minute, I thought to myself as I paused at the top of the stairs, how did Zimba know that was Ron Jeremy?