Zombos' Closet of Horror

The Victim (Phii khon pen, 2006)

ZC Rating 4 of 7: Very Good

"Maybe you can reenact the mystery?" said Lawn Gisland. He stretched his unusually long legs out in front of him and yawned. "Like Ting, 'cept less'n the melodrama a mite." He pulled at his cookie duster. "Say, Zoc, squeeze me 'nother one of those cappurino's, por favor."

"Sure pardner," I said, firing up the old cappuccino steam engine. The sound of pent-up steam escaping echoed through the cinematorium.

Zombos continued to look high and low for his eyeglasses, holding up our viewing of the Thai horror film, The Victim. We were half-way through it before Zombos needed to hit the toilet; three large mocha cappuccino's were a record for him. When he came back he realized he misplaced his second pair of eyes.

Lawn stood up, all six feet and three inches of him, and joined the search. Having starred in numerous Westerns on the big screen during the thirties and forties, he and Zombos went way back together. He hung up his spurs in the late fifties and retired to Florida to wrestle gators for the tourists. Getting bored with that, he had an itch and scratched it by touring as a circus cowboy, doing trick shooting and fancy riding. He was visiting the mansion while the Smith and Walloo Brothers three-in-one tent show set up in Long Island. For a man his age, he didn't show it. Zombos often joked that Lawn must have a decrepit looking portrait in his attic like Dorian Gray.

"Here. Wet your whistle while you search." I handed the cappuccino to him. He downed it in three gulps. Something crunched sharply under his right Black Jack Hornback Alligator boot heel as he handed me his empty mug. Zombos froze, his eyes widened.

"Found them," said Lawn. He stooped to pick up them up and handed the mangled pair back to Zombos.

After I hastily retrieved Zombos' second pair of eyeglasses from the library we continued our viewing of The Victim.

Carved (A Slit-Mouthed Woman, 2007)

Hanako-san and the Toilet

Hanako-san's ghost haunts the restrooms of many schools in Japan. She appears if her name is called, but you really don't want to do that; especially on a dare, late at night, when her darker, revenge-filled spirit is at full strength. She died from a broken heart, from constant bullying by her peers, and waits patiently for the time when her tormentors will have to go. School children in Japan were so frightened by this urban legend, many could not go alone to the toilet; where Hanako-san patiently waits. It is said that if you listen closely, you can hear her whispered curses echoing softly off the tiles...

ZC Rating 3 of 7: Good

Japanese urban legends are engrossing, aren't they? While similar in many respects to American ones, they tease reason loose from the mundane, and play on our fears of unrelenting  supernatural evil and contagion, spiraling out of control in a way that uniquely plays off the community and tradition-based culture of Japan. In America, the witch, Bloody Mary, simply rips your face off if you're suckered into saying her name thirteen times out loud, while looking in a candle-lit mirror in the dead of night. In Japan, she'd be the ghost of some mistreated woman who rips your face off, then pops up unexpectedly to rip all of your friends' faces off, then possesses someone close, just when you think it's over, to continue ripping faces off anyone coming into contact with you.

And she would most likely hold a large pair of blood-dripping scissors to squeeze every last drop of terror out of you as she silently floats across the floor in a greenish haze, anxious to snip snip snip your flesh.

Director and co-writer Kôji Shiraishi's, A Slit-Mouthed Woman (released as Carved in the USA by Tartan Video), uses the Kuchisake-onna urban legend as its source. In Japanese mythology, Kuchisake-onna is the evil spirit of a woman mutilated by her samurai husband, who cuts her mouth open from ear to ear as retribution for her infidelity, or pride, depending on which version of the legend you prefer.

Ghost of Mae Nak (2005)

ZC Rating 4 of 7: Very Good

In this Thai horror film, writer and director Mark Duffield updates the legend of Mae Nak, which many Thai people reverentially believe in, adds J-Horror makeup and shock-cuts, and ups the ante with a few well-choreographed gore stunts. The gore stunts rely less on bloody chunks and more on creative lighting, timing, and framing to deliver chilling tableaus of vengeance wrought by the ghost of Mae Nak when anyone gets in her way.

Along the way, Duffield maneuvers through the Thai cultural nuances of family and society to keep the story interesting for Western audiences not accustomed to seeing young people turn to elderly family members and Buddhist monks for help and guidance. In Western horror movies, it's usually your family and the authorities who either ignore your pleas for help, or try to kill you; so it's refreshing to see grandmothers who believe in ghosts and take you to blind seers for help. Duffield also tones down the exaggerated acting style common in Thai films, which lends more seriousness to the story.

Nak and Mak are soon-to-be newlyweds. Not only do they need to find a place to live fairly quickly, they also must cope with the usual pressures of work and doting families while preparing for their wedding in present day Bangkok. Mak is also coping with prescient nightmares regarding one disgruntled ghost with long black hair and a hole in her head big enough you could drive a bus through.

The Maid (2005) The Shudderites Attack Part 8

Part 7

ZC Rating 4 of 7: Very Good

Steve Brown, Glenor the maid, and Man-Chicken continued to look for a way into the tower while I chatted with my blog editor.

"Look," my editor told me," you're seriously behind in your reviews. I've got DVDs coming out of my--"

"I fully understand that," I told him. "But I am a bit involved here, you know."

"Oh, good god!" I heard my editor gasp.

"What's the matter?"

"It's the ghost of Mae Nak, she's pissed you haven't reviewed her film yet. Wow, you've got quite a hole in the head there,"

"What?"

"Not you, the ghost. She's got this J-Horror thing going on, and a gaping hole right in the middle of her head,"

"Fine," I said. "Tell her Tartan releases the film in October, so we've got quite a bit of time to review it before then."

"She's not buying it. Hey, cut that out! Look, I'm just the editor," he yelled. I had to hold the cell phone away from my ear as things were getting a bit loud. There was a scream or two, then silence.

"Hello? Hello? Are you still there?" I asked. A loud hissing sound, followed by a crash of glass and some foul-sounding foreign language sputtered from the cell phone, then it went dead.

"I say, Zoc," said Steve Brown.

"What?"

"You've got company."

I turned around and found the ghost of Mae Nak floating a few feet in the air. She definitely was not a happy camper. I can't remember any Asian ghosts that were, come to think of it. They are always out for revenge, or retribution, or something else equally nasty.

"That's a nasty hole in her head, isn't it." observed Steve Brown.

"Quite," I replied. "Look, I am rather preoccupied right now. Your review will have to wait."

Mae Nak wailed a frightful one. Banshees had nothing over her.

"Don't think she liked that," observed Steve Brown again. He started distancing himself from me. She was getting rather close. I had to think fast.

"Okay, look. If you can help us get into the castle, that might speed things up so I can get to the review. I'll even toss in a review of The Maid for good measure. Oh, and if you could do something with that werewolf, it would help a great deal also."

Mae Nak nodded, floated over to the door with the wild boar, and popped it open without any effort. She then floated over to the werewolf and popped him a good one.

"That was nasty," said Steve Brown, wincing.

"But effective. I never thought of hitting him there. I keep forgetting that werewolves have nards, too," I said. Glenor was speechless.

Mae Nak floated back over to me. "Okay, now go make yourself scarce while we lay siege to the castle and rescue Zombos," I told her. "Look, I hear there's this handsome spectre floating around the battlements up there. Go ahead, mingle. Tell him Hamlet sent you. I am sure you both have a lot to talk about." She floated up into the darkness, wailing all the way.

I picked up the cell phone to see if my editor was still alive. I could  hear a whimpering sound, followed by labored breathing, punctuated by "oh, sh*t, oh, sh*t" over and over again.

"Good, you're still there," I said. "Take this review for The Maid down, before Mae Nak comes back. Well then, use the good hand." I quickly relayed the review to him.