From Zombos Closet

August 10, 2009

Meet the Horror Bloggers:
Uranium Cafe

Bill Courtney Many fans of horror, amateur and professional alike, have devoted themselves to blogging about the thrills, chills, and no-frills side of the genre as seen in cinema and print. In this ongoing series that highlights the writers behind the blogs, we meet the unique personalities and talents that make the online horror scene so engaging. Up close and personal.

In this installment, League of Tana Tea Drinkers’ member Bill Courtney of the Uranium Cafe describes the influences, the places, and the challenges for keeping his love of horror and cult movies alive.

 

As a kid I was lucky enough to have a dad who was not the least bit interested in watching sports on TV over the weekends. He loved movies and comic books. This was in the 60’s and I grew up on a healthy diet of classic films, TV, and Marvel and DC comics. We had a b/w TV set with rabbit ears and basically three channels to choose programs from. Later, PBS would come along but who the hell ever really watched that. I grew up watching a variety of programs that included weekly showings of Sword and Sandal films, serial Westerns, and of course classic horror and sci-fi features.

A couple films I recall as being really shocking to me are actually pretty tame fare by today’s standards. One was The Mummy with Boris Karloff and in particular the scene where he suddenly rises up and peers into the camera. The other film, also with Karloff, was called Die, Monster, Die! And I recall being terrified to death, and dad telling me it was just a movie and it was all make believe. I would soon be saving up my lunch money from school and going to the local grocery stores and buying loads of comics and Warren Magazines. At the most I would save up two or three bucks but back then Famous Monsters of Filmland was .35 or .50 and I could get six or so comics for a dollar. Matinees were cheap and I remember watching more Spaghetti Westerns and B-horror movies than I can recall.

The Collector (2009)
Have Trunk Will Travel

The collector

Zombos Says: Good

At the end of The Collector I felt cheated. I cannot tell you why as that would give the ending away. But here is a clue; in Sabotage, Alfred Hitchcock regretted blowing up the bus. While he wanted the audience to feel uncomfortable from the buildup of tension between the boy, the bus, and the bomb ticking away, he felt he cheated the audience by blowing up the bus, killing the boy and everyone on it. In a word, his payoff for putting the audience through the wringer was negative, not positive. Hitchcock realized he let his audience down: no one wanted to see the bomb go off after all that suspense.

In combining Cube-like lethal traps with a hint of Saw-styled ingenuity and malice, and yet another relentless masked-slasher victimizing a family in unsavory, bloodily grisly ways, Marcus Dunstan and Patrick Melton (Feast) do their darnedest to pulverize the audience with fears of helplessness, torture, and death. They almost succeed, but choose to blow up the bus by going the usual horror franchise-building byway at the end with a negative payoff. In their case, however, the bomb takes the form of a trunk for the one he always takes.

lucky survivor and continue on his bizarre journey to perdition (and potentially a hot franchise). He also likes to devise fiendish traps and set them throughout the house, though I am not sure why since he ties up his victims before he sets his don’t-step-in-the-bear traps, don’t-pick-up-the-phone traps, don’t-step-in-the-glue-on-the-floor-because-it-burns-like-acid traps, don’t-walk-into-the-razor-wire-strung-across doorway traps, and don’t-go-near-the-window traps. Where he finds the energy and time to build all these devilish traps I do not know, but if he devoted it to stamp and coin collecting, even comic books, he would be awesome.

The uncomfortable–for us–increasing tension begins with the unexpected intrusion of an ex-convict looking to pay off his ex-wife’s loan shark debt before midnight. His wife and daughter’s lives depend on him completing his heist. While opening the safe, Arkin (Josh Stewart) hears screams and goes to investigate. After he realizes what is happening, he tries to help, but the Collector’s traps are demoralizing and painful, and the people he tries to save do not trust him and are crazed from fear and pain, making them loud and unmanageable. The house is isolated, of course, so he needs to quickly make a decision whether to save them or himself.

He tries to leave and realizes he is also trapped in the house. How he narrowly escapes the Collector’s traps while trying to evade capture, make the midnight deadline and save both families, including the little girl he had a tea-party with earlier that day, keeps his feet in motion, his breathing heavy, and his situation changing from unpleasant to bloody-hell messy unpleasant. Images of spiders and bugs crawl through the movie, and in one tender moment–for the Collector–the masked maniac lovingly frees a spider from the house into the yard. A thunderstorm provides classic gloom, and there is a gruesomely poetic revelation of a web-like trap, illuminated briefly from a flash of lightning, just before Arkin stumbles into it.

The dilemma facing Arkin, to save both families or his own skin, is something not often seen in horror movie fare. It provides a catalyst for audience involvement that goes beyond vicarious body-count watching. When the Collector goes after the little girl, forcing Arkin to make difficult choices between physical safety and his conscience, it made me root for this home team to hit a home run.

But all Dunstan and Melton can do is get stranded at first base. They dote on the bloody-hell messy parts of the movie, replacing most of the suspense with typical–for a psycho-butcher-torturer movie–outcomes. Closeup views of lip sewing, chisel to teeth, shears poised to snip a pliers-held tongue, carving a roast without the roast, and, really, just about every dire torture-gore situation and its outcome we now anticipate due to their overuse is here in lavish closeup. It is stylish, it is done well, but it has all been done before.

So, I felt cheated. But I also felt like double-checking the doors before I went to bed, too.

Warning to cat lover’s; don’t see this movie. For dog lovers who like drool-dripping, snarling and snapping hounds on chain leashes, this one’s for you.