Zombos' Closet

Papercutz' Tales From the Crypt 3

zomboscloset It's black Thursday here at the mansion and no shopping in sight. Thanksgiving dinner was going well until Frederico Frunken started reminiscing over his paprika hendl. Cousin Cleftus popped his monocle across the table and angrily waved a drumstick at Frederico. You can take the man out of politics, but you can't take politics out of the man. I really should be writing up some reviews. I'm running behind as usual. 03:00 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

cryptkeeper1950 @zomboscloset: Speaking of reviews, Zoc, Papercutz' Tales From the Crypt issue 3 is out. You've been kind of slipshod on the last two issue's reviews, so maybe you could put more focus on this one and be more serious? 03:05 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

zomboscloset @cryptkeeper1950: Not you again. Stop bothering me. I'll get to it when I get to it. Oh, damn, Cousin Cleftus just threw the drumstick at Frederico. Thank god Zombos's head was in the way. Lord, not the cranberry sauce, too! I've got to go! 03:07 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

cryptkeeper1950 @zomboscloset: All I'm saying is if you're goin' to be a serious reviewer you really need to stop playing around and get serious. Look at me: I'm dead, but I'm still serious. That's commitment. Even if Papercutz' insists on watering me down into a few slapstick chuckles for their 'tweener audience. I feel your pain, but unfortunately I'm stuck with Salicrup as editor. 03:08 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

zomboscloset @cryptkeeper1950: Finally, everyone is calmed down and enjoying Chef Machiavelli's scrumptiuous desserts. Speaking of just deserts, I will say Stefan Petrucha's story, "Slabbed," captures a bit of the old comeuppance magic. The story has a great balance between art and script, and it's always fun to see a bully get his due. Don Hudson's more traditional superhero-art style works quite well here.Nice to get away from that Archie comics, manga style that stifles the series. I would have liked to see more embellishment in the artwork, especially the backgrounds, though. Every story in each issue always looks like it's being rushed, especially when you consider the great talent involved. 03:12 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

cryptkeeper1950 @zomboscloset: Yeah, we snuck that one past Salicrup when he was on vacation. What did you think of A Murderin' Idol? 03:14 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

zomboscloset @cryptkeeper1950: Predictable story: wannabe rock star finds primordial book of spells to conjure pint-sized demon requiring human sacrifices to grant bigger and bigger wishes. Not really all that bad, but Todd needed to add zest into his dialog and setups. I mean, Slymon Bowel? I suppose a younger audience might find that witty. A comic take on American Idol needs more panache than potty-named monikers.As for the art, I expected Betty and Veronica to pop-up in a panel any moment. Mannion does a nice job with the panel movement, but there's that rushed, two-dot nose and eyes look butting up against the borders on every page again. The chunky demon works; mean, yet still funny in appearance. And the coloring in each panel is super across both stories, but I think Rick Parker would have been a better choice to draw that one.  He's doing a great job with the ghoulunatics sequences.Even Salicrup is writing better lead-ins to each story; but those puns are torture. 03:17 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

cryptkeeper1950 @zomboscloset: You're preachin' to the choir there, my friend. You'd never guess I went to Harvard with him writing my lines. 03:18 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

billythepupfromsaw @zomboscloset: What's real torture, Zoc, is you not reviewing Saw IV. I'm very disappointed in you. You have failed to live up to your own self-worth. I must teach you the value of being a reviewer. Maybe by poking your eyes out with rusted springs you will come to appreciate how you've left your own readers sightless by not reviewing my never-ending, bloody torture franchise. McDonald's didn't put me in their Happy Meals because of you, Zoc. They were going to put your review on the side of the paper bag, along with a shot of me stretching Ronald McDonald's feet even bigger than they are now. But no. No Zoc review, no cute little Billy the Puppet happy meal. No colorful torture toys for little girls and boys because you couldn't live up to your potential. I'm very, very, very disappointed in you. 03:19 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

zomboscloset@billythepupfromsaw: Bite me, sawdust! Nobody's got a hand up my butt telling me what to do or say. I review what I want, when I want. 03:21 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

cryptkeeper1950 @zomboscloset, @billythepupfromsaw: Say, wait a minute: we could do a gag in issue 4 with me pedaling around on a tricycle with red targets painted on my face. Damn, I've got to call Salicrup! He'll love it. We could call me Billy Baloney and--damn, I think Pee Wee Herman  used that one. Say, wait a minute: I could dress up like Pee Wee Herman with targets on my face doing a parody of Billy the Puppet doing a parody of Saw IV, and--dialing Salicrup now, gotta go! 03:22 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

jerrymahoneytime @zomboscloset: Technically speaking, the hand is up the back. Can we keep it clean here folks. I see no reason to start flaming each other. 03:23 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

archiesgirlveronica @zomboscloset: Just what did you mean by your statement above, Zoc? Betty and I wouldn't be seen dead in a horror comic. Well, maybe dead, but, say, we could be zombies! I always thought Jughead would make a great zombie. Archie is too uptight for that kind of stuff. Ooh, dialing Jughead now! Seeya. 03:26 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

cryptkeeper1950 @archiesgirlveronica: Hot chick zombies! I love it! Message me after midnight to discuss. 03:28 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

Paul Bibeau's Sundays With Vlad

I watched Chef Machiavelli. He watched the big simmering pot on the stove while holding a large soup spoon at the ready. Zombos nervously watched Chef Machiavelli's back while glancing at our Thanksgiving menu card. A tentacle suddenly pushed the pot lid aside and wiggled defiantly in the air. Chef Machiavelli whacked it with the soup spoon, sending it back into the pot. He slid the lid back in place and resumed his stance of readiness.

"Not done yet?" I asked.

"No," said our chef, unperturbed, raising the flame a little more. He kept watching the pot.

"Look here," said Zombos, "this menu simply won't do. Yak-stuffed octopus is fine, but what about the Frunkens? You know how difficult they can be. We need a native dish they'll love."

Oh yes...the Frunkens. Distant relatives on Zombos' side, originally hailing from Transylvania, recently moved to Pennsylvania under mysterious political circumstances, and soon to grace our annual family get-together with their vexing personalities. I was worried, too. Anything could set them off down the road to our damnation, ruining the festive Thanksgiving we planned for weeks. As for me, simple turkey and cranberry sauce is all I need for a festive dinner. Toss in a few bread rolls, mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn, and, as Emeril would say, "Bam!"

Wait a minute. Transylvania? Transylvania? I started to remember something--oh, bugger, I had almost forgotten! Paul Bibeau's Sundays with Vlad and his journey to find the true Dracula of Bram Stoker's novel, and in our psyche; I'm late in writing up the interview I recently had with him.

"I've got to ask him about that paprika hendl dish he talks about," I said out loud, making a mental note I needed to follow up on.

"Perfetta!" cried Chef Machiavelli, wrestling the soup spoon free from a tenacious tentacle entwined tightly around it. He turned to Zombos. "Paprika hendl," he said, while banging the tentacle back into the pot with his soup spoon. He resumed his stance of readiness.

Zombos clapped his hands together. "Superb! Paprika hendl it is. Capital idea, Zoc."

Finally. Now to more important matters: the interview with Paul Bibeau!

Monarch Models: Nosferatu

There is nothing like the smell of styrene in the morning. Monarch Model Company's Nosferatu hits the shelves in time for the monsterkid gift-giving season--hint, hint. So stop drooling and buy one already. And don't forget to mail in the club membership. Click each image to get the big picture.

Count Gore De Vol Still Counting After All These Years

Dick Dyszel's undying alter-ego, Count Gore De Vol, haunted Washington DC's television screens from 1973 to 1987 as TV horror host for station WDCA. Beginning as the character M.T. Graves on the Bozo the Clown show, he parlayed his monstrous likability into hosting his own popular program, Creature Feature. His satirical approach to politics and the sexual revolution kept his show fresh and on the air until all local programming was canceled by the new owners of the station.

The unstoppable count rose from the grave once more, becoming the first Internet Horror Host to haunt the flickering computer screens, entertaining his devoted, and now international, fans every week.

While not putting together his weekly show, you can find him at conventions, hosting horror film festivals, and doing movies. He is featured in American Scary, a documentary devoted to the horror host phenomenon, and appears as The Narrator in The Dead Matter.

We got a hold of Dick Dyszel and didn't let go until he answered a few questions for your edification pleasure.

Not 1000 But Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964)

ZC Rating 6 of 7: Classic

Glenor Glenda was upside down. Rather, her face was upside down. Or maybe I was upside down. I couldn't tell much through the foggy haze. Suddenly her face changed to Saw's Billy the Puppet's upside down face, leering at me with those cold, unblinking eyes. I closed my eyes wishing him to go away. I mean her to go away. I mean I don’t know what I mean.

"Good lord, now what?" I heard Zombos say.

"He passed out," she frantically said. "I think he was watching Two Thousand Maniacs! when he fainted."

"Here, then, give me the smelling salts. And stop bending over him like that. Give him some air."

I opened my eyes. Zombos' face was upside down now, leering at me with its stern, accusatory eyes. I wished him to go away, too.

"You ninny," he said, holding the smelling salts under my nose. "I do not know why you insist on putting yourself through these exercises in self-punishment. If you do not want to see Saw IV, then just do not see it."

He helped me to my feet, though I was still a bit wobbly. "I thought if I prepared myself by watching one of the earliest gore films it would help desensitize me. I have a responsibility to our readers," I explained.

"Oh, I think the five of them really do not want to see Saw IV, either," joked Zombos. At least I hope he was joking. "How far did you get into Herschell Gordon Lewis' movie?"

"Up to the axe scene. When she got her thumb cut off I started getting woozy. The axe scene did me in after that." I sipped the glass of Glen Caren Glenor handed to me. There's nothing like a vatted malt whiskey to bring back the color in your cheeks; bright red color, like the color of freshly spilled blood.

 

And there's lots of bright 1960s-colored blood in Two Thousand Maniacs!, the second film in the Godfather of Gore's blood trilogy that ushered in the splatter-horror genre to an eager drive-in movie audience. Dipping once too often into the nudie-cutie and exploitation well, Lewis and his partner David Friedman searched for their next commercial gusher. They found it in colorized gore, delivered with manic glee, cheap setups, and lingering eyefuls.

Perhaps it's the gleefully sadistic way in which the Brigadoon-like southern townspeople of Pleasant Valley go about torturing and killing the slow-to-grasp-the-situation northerners, or maybe it's the hokey acting and poor direction slamming against the energetically strummed banjo songs, sung by the strolling bluegrass trio (go figure) as the entire town celebrates its revenge-fueled centennial. Whatever the reasons, the film is still a wild southern fried terror ride that revels in its nastiness while cheekily grinning from ear to ear. The gore is mild compared to today's more graphic, mechanically-oriented, dismembering and mashing appliances, but a simple knife, or axe, or sharp nail-lined barrel always provides a homey touch of stark horror whimsy to any victimization.

Every hundred years the town of Pleasant Valley comes to life, looking for a little cold comfort by revenging its destruction on those damn Yankees that decimated it during the civil war. Since revenge mostly involves innocent people in horror movies—dumb, innocent people--and sometimes those who instigated the problem in the first place, the townsfolk detour a few northern-born passersby off the highway and into the town as centennial guests of honor.

A carload of two bickering couples--bickering couples are a staple in horror films, too--are the first to find themselves invited to the barbecue. The couple with extra-kinky shenanigans in mind—my, this one is full of staples, isn’t it?--are the first to succumb to the town's madness. They each go off looking for a tryst with a local yokel, but find terror instead.

By the pricking of her thumb, she loses a digit with more to come.

In a violent scene that holds intensity with its sudden brutality, the hot-to-trot blond gets her thumb maliciously cut off by the town's dashing, rope-belted, blue jeans hunk. With blood spilling all over the place, she's hustled into the "doctor's" office, where quick surgery with an axe really makes a mess of things. Lewis' direction throughout this unpleasant business is over the top. The contradiction between the laughing good-ol' boys hovering over the bleeding, shocked, and dismembered woman is held in the camera's eye long enough to register a disturbing absurdity and disgust, delivering a grindhouse-styled wallop to the senses even a Saw-jaded fan could appreciate.

Her husband doesn't fair all that well, either. After waking from a drunken stupor, he finds himself with a hangover and tied to four horses pointed in different directions. Lewis tones down the shock by cutting away when the horses prance off, only showing a bloody limb dragged over the ground afterwards. For a moment, his camera dwells on the unhappy looks of the spectators, realizing the horror of what they've just done; but only for a moment. The festivities continue.

Lewis' pièce de résistance is a barrel rolling contest with a nail-barrel. Forced into a gaily-colored barrel, the male half of our second unfortunate couple is perturbed when the mayor starts pounding large sharp nails into it, leaving the prickly points exposed inside the barrel. A short kick down a long hill leaves one more brightly-colored victim dressed in blood-red as the townspeople cheer.

The third couple fares better. A hitchhiking teacher and the woman who picked him up catch on pretty quickly that not all's fun and games in Pleasant Valley. When communication to the outside world is cut off, the teacher realizes it's time to hightail it out of there. The only obstacle to overcome is finding the car key and getting past Billy the kid.

Billy (Vincent Santo), whose favorite pastime is tying mini-nooses to strangle cats with, knows where the car key is, but he drives a hard bargain to fess up. Watching Billy, I couldn't shake the creepy feeling he looked awfully like Billy the Puppet. Just paint two large red targets on his cheeks, darken his hair, stick him on a tricycle, and you'd swear he looks just like him. Or maybe it's just me.

Lewis' budget ($65K in 1960s dollars) for Two Thousand Maniacs! was higher than his more explicit gore-fests in the trilogy, Blood Feast and Color Me Blood Red, allowing him to devote more time to the story and the setups for each gore-effect. Ironically, this may have hurt his directorial style more than helped, but Maniacs! holds up well primarily because of its rough edges.

 

"Feeling better," asked Zombos. With his help, and three glasses of Glen Caren, I had watched Two Thousand Maniacs! in its entirety.

'Much better," I said.

"Good, then perhaps we should move you up to The Wizard of Gore. Lewis really piles on the bloody gore as a maniac magician's illusions leave his volunteers in pieces. Good lord, not again. Glenor! Quick! Bring the smelling salts! He has gone and fainted again!

 

The Other Plan 9 Spookies (1987)

ZC Rating 1 of 7: Poor (but fun to raz on)

"Come again?" I asked.

"Cinderella. He wants to dress up as Cinderella," said Zombos, glummer than usual.

"Okay. Why not?"

"What do you mean why not? No son of mine is going to--"

"Wait a minute," I interrupted. "Look, I'm on the phone here. I still can't find someone to come with me to see Saw IV. I'm sorry you've got issues with Zombos Junior dressing up as a princess for Halloween, but I need--"

Zombos moaned. "Oh, lord, dressing up as a girl! At least if he would be Prince Charming, I could accept that. I should have realized something was amiss when he preferred watching America's Next Top Model instead of the Goosebumps marathon. I blame Zimba for this."

"Damn it all, he hung up. Who else can I call," I said to myself. I was desperate. I should review the bloody film, but I can't take all that sadistic, gory torture stuff that keeps the Saw franchise alive. I needed moral support. And someone to tell me what happens when I close my eyes.

"Why do you need someone to hold your hand just to see a stupid horror movie. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"You're just mad Junior prefers Cinderella to that Jack Sparrow pirate costume you bought him. Look, so what if he's transgender? He's still your son, right? Maybe he's got an Ed Wood thing going. That would be super, wouldn’t it?”

In the hallway, Zimba and Junior went running by. She yelled at him to give her high-heels back and to stay out of her makeup case. Zombos moaned even louder.

"Oh, bugger. At this rate, Saw IV will be on DVD before I get a chance to see it. Maybe I'll review that cinematic train wreck, Spookies, instead."

"I thought it was only available through Amazon UK?" said Zombos.

"That's right. But I just got my region-free DVD player, so now I can play all those nifty UK horror movies I've been dying to see."

"Count me in," said Zombos, looking for any diversion to take his mind off of Junior. We headed to the cinematorium to watch Spookies.

 

If you’re looking for the perfect second-half of a double-bill Halloween show with Plan 9 From Outer Space, look no further. Spookies is a movie to be savored for its underdone acting, overbearing dialog, and sheer incoherence. Rarely do horror films reach this pinnacle of hilarious ineptitude. Originally started as Twisted Souls, that unfinished film gave birth to a spook show hodgepodge of 1980s makeup and monster effects colliding head on with badly edited additional footage from yet another unfinished movie, resulting in a two-headed storyline that never meets eye to eye (or should I say eyes to eyes?).

Billy (Alec Nemsir), possibly the dumbest thirteen year-old ever appearing on screen, runs away from home because his parents forgot his birthday. What that has to do with the two cars, filled with bickering couples from Brooklyn--judging by their accents--beats me, but they're in this movie, too.

The kid and bickering couples wind up at a decrepit sorcerer's ominously dark and creepy home: it's ominous because it has an old graveyard surrounding it. Billy is the first to enter the empty house. In the dining room he finds presents and birthday decorations, and quickly concludes his parents are throwing a surprise party for him; in a stranger’s house. Billy doesn’t mind the ominous cemetery or the creepiness. He admires the presents and opens the biggest box, asking out loud if it's a bowling ball. That’s right, a bowling ball. High on every kid’s birthday list, I’m sure.  The sorcerer's smiling head is in the box. Billy screams and runs out of the house, straight into a freshly dug grave. One down, now it’s time for the bickering couples to play their roles as proper horror movie victims, which involves acting dumb and dumber when it can cause the most bodily damage.

We’re back to the two cars filled with bickering couples. Oh, and there's one solo guy: he's the one with the sock puppet, so you can draw your own conclusions as to why he's sitting alone in the back seat. They wind up at the ominously creepy and dark mansion just when young Billy is coughing up dirt as a purple-faced werewolf buries him alive. . Yes, you did read that correctly. Just go with it. Nothing in this movie makes sense so get used to it now. The werewolf not only enjoys burying little boys alive, he gets a kick out of holding doors shut on people, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Couples and sock puppet guy enter the mansion to party hardy, and you know what happens to party people in horror movies, don't you? They die hardy.

The Sal Mineo look-alike insists on breaking into a padlocked closet and finds a corpse clutching a Ouija board. Ignoring the significance of a corpse CLUTCHING THE QUIJA BOARD, Carly (Lisa Friede), the quiet, Ouija-savvy, girl knows what to do with the planchette. They bicker over what questions to ask like "will we get out alive," while we cut to the sorcerer (Felix Ward) playing a game of chess, although he never moves any of the pieces. He needs souls to revive his wife, who poisoned herself to get away from him. The plot starts peeking through! Enjoy it while it lasts because a peek is all you get.

Carly becomes possessed by the sorcerer and goes after the others. As they run out the front door, zombies pop up out of the graveyard to stop them. They run back into the house screaming hysterically. You will be screaming with laughter at this point. The bickering continues forcing them to split up. That’s another cardinal rule for victims in horror movies: split up to die more easily. Every hack scriptwriter knows that one.

To recap: with zombies outside, a demon-possessed Carly on the inside, a purple-faced werewolf holding doors shut on them, and a gloating sorcerer playing chess without moving the pieces, they split up. They even spend a few minutes discussing the pros and cons of splitting up. Here's where you notice the acting in no way attempts to accomodate the adrenalin-rush terror befalling them. The three directors--yes, I said three--must have been on a coffee break during these crucial scenes. With directors missing in action, the makeup and special effects crew indulge their fancies. The 1980s is THE decade for puffy, rubbery monster suits, herky-jerky animatronics, skittery stop-motion, and glistening, greenish-purplish makeup. You see all of it in this movie with varying degrees of success.

One by one, the blundering, bickering over-aged teens get taken out by one monstrosity after another. Interspersed between each tableau of gory doom, the sorcerer gloats in a bad, Lugosi-styled accent and summons more creatures of the night through Carly. And each time someone scrambles to get out of a room there’s the purple werewolf outside, holding the door closed as they pull hard to open it.

The creatures encountered are like those you'd find in a Skywald horror magazine: there are the sod-men in the cellar, farting with each step they take  (I can now unequivocally say farting ruins suspenseful terror); there's the spider-woman (Soo Paek) that sucks the juices out of the annoying sock-puppet guy, actually deflating him as she slurps him up; there’s the grim reaper statue coming to life with blazing red eyes and wielding a mean scythe; and there’s a tentacled, sucker-fish-looking creature that shoots electric bolts. Go figure. The creations are fun to watch in action, and help you ignore the messed up story.

While everyone is getting killed, the sorcerer's bride awakens and runs away. A witch-thingie stops her and forces her to run to the graveyard, where more zombies pop up and grab her in an overdrawn groping romp that needed splicing. She manages to break free long enough to run into the purple werewolf. There’s no door between them, though. The end makes no sense whatsoever: it's done for visual flair only. Indeed, the entire movie is a series of visual setups, strung between the incongruous sorcerer gloating, party people screaming and dying, the purple werewolf holding doors closed with glee, and a bride loathing her predicament.

If ever there was a reason to throw popcorn at a movie screen, this is it. This movie is so goofy you'll love watching it while deriding the hell out of it.