Zombos' Closet

Resident Evil: Extinction (2007)

Movies are an objective experience, which the viewer enters as an observer, not a participant—requiring the establishing of characters with whom the audience can identify first, and through them feel the fear generated by whatever the threat happens to be...all of this is a roundabout way of getting to one of the reasons why RESIDENT EVIL: EXTINCTION is the latest in the long string of features that fail to deliver the fear factor of their video-game inspirations--Michael Gingold, Fangoria

ZC Rating 2 of 7: Fair

After reading Michael Gingold's review of Resident Evil: Extinction, I knew I had to steel myself against another blistering disappointment in horror movie entertainment. I headed to the concession stand and bought my usual reviewer-comfort food: small Cherry Coke, check; box of Junior Mints, check. I then sat in the last row, far from the screen, symbolically distancing myself from this third installment in a series that has, so far, failed to capture the eeriness and gut-wrenching involvement of the video game it sprang from. I was half-way through my box of Junior Mints, around the time when Alice--lithesome Milla Jovovich--was holding herself in her arms--her clone self, that is--that I realized kicking zombie butt can be fun to watch, even if the dialog, characters, and setpieces are uninspired to the point of lameness. Let's face it: the franchise keeps going only because Milla Jovovich is the prettiest and sexiest  zombie butt-kicker on the screen today.

Zombie Tales Vol. 1

ZC Rating 4 of 7: Very Good

"I say, Zoc, you're slipping," Zombos said.

"What do you mean," I asked.

"Typos, my boy, typos. Your last post had typos. Tsk, tsk. The least you could do is proofread your own work before subjecting your learned readers to..."

My mind wandered as Zombos pontificated, drifting to thoughts of wagging puppy dog tails, cabbages and kings, and zombies. Wait a moment—zombies? Why yes! Why not?

 

No other horror subgenre elicits more fodder for cinema than those nihilistic automatons of sheer irrational fright and disgust. Whether born of thumping voodoo drums, cosmic radiation, or the crisp tinkling of test tubes, the walking dead have brought metaphorical life to many cinematic, philosophical, theological, and fictional works. No other unreal monster instills such chills and thrills as a shambling or sprinting—and badly decomposing—undead aunt, uncle, or significant other that has eyes and teeth only for you. From social commentary to gore, zombies are the cat's meow when it comes to biting allusive storytelling and visceral visuals combined.

Tricks and Treats

By the tickling of my gums, something wickedly tasty this way comes! It's a sure sign of Halloween when the myriad textures, colors and tricked-out containers of candy hit the store shelves hard. With the season starting earlier and earlier each year as retailers scramble to compete for your precious shemolians, it gets better and better.

Here's my first foray's haul of wonderful Halloween candy delights. And I dare you to try and say that three times fast with a mouthful of Jelly Beans.

I found these energetic bike buddies at Walgreens. I never could figure out how skeletons could move in horror movies without muscles—let alone ride a bike—but why let reality get in the way of a good thing?

These nostalgic  bikers, with their green and orange plastic parts, reminded me of those vintage Rosbro candy containers; but these are less expensive to own, so I bought the whole box of happy skeleton and pumpkin bike riders. Now if they could toss in a witch or two, that would be heaven, and not a pretty witch, either: long nose, jutting chin, green face, and black, pointed hat is Halloween appropriate. It is fantasy, you know.

At Target, I came across the Edgar and Ellen Corpse Countdown, in a suitably atmospheric coffin-shaped box. Each "grave" contains a spooky, gummy surprise, just right for when those anxious moments of Halloween-anticipation overwhelm you.

You get thirteen days of treats, including ghoulish gummies and goofy ghouls. Brains, skulls, and eyeballs are tossed in, too, as well they should be. What's Halloween without a few chewy brains and skulls waiting to be devoured?

Dollar Tree, always a good place for Halloween items, has these spinner containers. Guess how much? Push the button to whirl the face on the grim reaper or the pumpkin. Will it stop at Mr. Happy or Mr. Frown? No fear, you can always spin again while munching on the crunchy nuggets of suger.

I snuck in the skeleton pez-like candy dispenser I found at 7-Eleven last year. I hope 7-Eleven has more like these this year; but not the ones from last year. Stale Halloween candy is a nightmare!

The Haunted Mansion Gets Scarier!

Intrepid reader Qi-Diva noticed this exciting news on Disney Insider...

My favorite ride in the whole world, the Haunted Mansion, is getting a few new scares. Let's hope they don't rile the tenants! You know how annoying renovations can be.

For several months, our team has been "illusioneering," making the invisible, visible," explains Kathy. "For example, a previously unseen wing of the Mansion has been revealed for the first time. Observant Guests will see more of the 999 happy haunts cavorting on a seemingly endless staircase leading to secret realms. Watch closely and you'll see evidence of these residents -- their glowing footprints, candles going out -- is it the wind or did someone blow them out? It's for you to decide. Other haunts reveal themselves in the mansion's infamous Corridor of Doors -- don't blink or you'll miss the clues!

Go to Disney Insider to read all about it.

Papercutz' Tales From the Crypt 2

ZC Rating 3 of 7: Good

"What the hell?" It was three a.m. in the morning. I woke up from a fitful sleep because someone was banging on my bedroom window. I threw the bedsheets aside and reluctantly got out of bed.

"Finally! Boy, you sleep like the dead," rasped the Crypt-Keeper as I opened the window. "Hey, watch it down there!" He was standing on the top rung of a too short ladder. Three stories below, the Old Witch and the Vault-Keeper were trying to hold the ladder steady. "Bungling dolts! And they wonder why I always get top billing."

"Look, if this is about that review I did for issue one—" I started saying.

"Tsk, tsk, a bloated corpse under the bridge, Zoc, bloated corpse under the bridge. Though the boys at Papercutz were not happy. Not happy at all. Lucky for you I convinced them to put down their torches and go home.

"Then who's that?" I pointed to a man standing at the foot of the ladder, holding a flaming torch high in one hand and flipping me the bird with the other.

Hostel (2005)

ZC Rating 4 of 7: Very Good

Thank you. It's very exciting for me to be here, especially since I know that there are some people from Slovakia who probably want to kill me for making this movie. In America, Hostel is a very terrifying horror film for many people, but I truly believe it could become one of the great comedy classics here in Eastern Europe. I'm sure you have questions, and about why I made Slovakia look like all of a sudden it's from the 1950s, and what it might do to the tourist industry in Slovakia, and I look forward to answering all your questions and hopefully I will not get tortured to death. (Eli Roth, 'Smash hit horror Hostel causes stir among citizens of sleepy Slovakia')

 

Whistling. I hate whistling in a horror movie. It's such a pleasant activity, a normal activity; one that reflects a satisfied, joyful—even exuberant state of mind in the whistler. That's why it's so frightening and effective in the opening scene of Hostel. To hear that simple tune casually whistled by one of the "janitors" as he nonchalantly cleans the guest suites, routinely rinsing away the red splatter and body chunks down a drain, will freeze your blood. Just another day at work: just another day in hell; especially for the tourists. And you thought the plane trip was torture.This chilling contrast between the innocuous whistling and the gory evidence of disturbing activity is frightening, setting the gruesome tone for the film. Callous indifference is the theme here with people unconcerned that intense suffering and death are their job. They make money from it so it's okay; providing human cattle to be slaughtered by bored Über-rich seeking ever more intense emotional experiences, dehumanizing themselves in their avid consumerism.

What redeems this film from being a gratuitous exercise in explicit gore and sadistic violence is Paxton, the survivor. He starts out as another hedonistic consumer, but gains a precious sense of his soul while losing two fingers along the way. He is forced to care: he cares enough to take time while escaping to pick up his severed fingers; he also cares enough to rush back into the charnel house, after narrowly escaping the caress of a chainsaw, to save a girl he hardly knows.

His decision sets up one of the more intense and nauseating scenes in a film filled with them. When he finds her, she is missing half of her face, and one eye dangles precariously from its now burned-out socket. That dangling eye does present a problem. Okay, what do you do? At this point I had my hands over my eyes, but through my fingers I could see the flash of scissors as Paxton decides what he must do. You know what's coming, but Roth extends the tense moment into an excruciating eternity.

Roth tickles our fear-bone: the fear comes from being helpless while someone can commit any form of injury on you, and fear also comes from the knowledge that the amoral townsfolk in this creepy village gladly share in this consumerism-from-hell scenario. Even the children are sadistic monsters, roaming the town and demanding tribute; willing to harm or kill for a bag of candy. Being a foreigner in Hostel is a death sentence. The chilling words spoken to Paxton by one of the rich clients sums up the moral decay best: “Be careful: you could spend all your money in there.”

But after a film like Hostel, where do you go? How much torture and depravity can an audience take in a horror film? I'm sure Roth will try and find out.

Hostel a comedy classic? Find out more at Radio Prague.

Rob Zombie's Halloween (2007) More Trick Than Treat

ZC Rating 2 of 7: Fair

Half-way into the movie I started to wonder why I wasn't feeling the love. Where was the lingering taste of candy corn on my lips, the smell of burning pumpkin innards, charred by candle flame, in my nose?  Certainly there was no suspense, or even anticipation of it, from the unstoppable bogeyman as I watched Rob Zombie's re-imagining of John Carpenter's 1978 retelling of The Hook urban legend, Halloween. Of course, Zombie didn't have actors like Jamie Lee Curtis or Donald Pleasence to bolster his story, but since he spent much of the film focused on the unkempt Daeg Faerch as the young Michael Myers, perhaps that's a moot point. Or maybe not?

Making Myers more psychotic serial killer than ghost-like supernatural force to reckon with may be the cinematic equivalent of getting toothpaste and dental floss in your trick or treat bag instead of mouth-watering chocolates and sugary sweets. With Zombie's penchant for dysfunctional, white-trash families, and potty-mouthed, libidinous characters you really really don't care about, and lingering stares at his all too familiar blood-splattered tableaus, the hairs-rising-on-the-back-of-your-neck quality of the original story has been carved out and replaced with the pedestrian graphic violence prevalent in today's horror repertoire.