From Zombos' Closet

Movie Review: Frozen (2010) Minimalist Horror Best Served Cold

Zombos Says: Excellent

I noticed I was shivering when well into watching Frozen. Granted it was the first show of the day in a chilly theater (outside it was below freezing), but a few of those shivers came from my fear of heights and a persistent memory of the one time I rode a ski lift. I become uneasy every time I think back to that experience; how I kept wishing the long ride would end faster, how I gulped and closed my eyes each time the ground sloped farther away from me and silently cheered when it came closer, how that small seat and flimsy security bar made me wish, even harder, I'd staid back in the warm lodge nursing a hot chocolate like I'd wanted to.

Director and writer Adam Green fills the first half-hour with youthful banter and playfulness. Parker (Emma Bell), prodded on by Dan (Kevin Zegers) and Joe (Shawn Ashmore), convinces the ski lift operator with cash and a warm smile to let them ride without tickets. People are everywhere, the sun is shining, and Joe meets a girl and scores her phone number after her ex-boyfriend gets jealous and knocks him down.

They should have ended the day eating pizza and drinking hot chocolate in the lodge instead of going for one last run on the slopes, but Joe makes Parker and Dan feel guilty for wasting his time earlier keeping pace with Dan's girlfriend, Parker, who, being a beginner, fell down a lot. They hop onto the ski lift just as everyone else is finishing up or heading home. An all too plausible misjudgment leaves them stranded with a storm approaching. When the ride stops they complain. When the lights shut off, one by one, leaving them swinging in the cold wind, they realize the worst has happened: no one knows they're up their; and the resort will be closed for the week; and it's getting colder.

A closeup of the ski lift switch being pulled to turn off the ride and a long shot of those comfortingly bright lights slowly winking out in back of the three skiers, provide two of the most chilling moments in this minimalist horror. Parker, Joe, and Dan's decisions from this point on provide the rest.

Minimalist horror movies, using their characters' poor judgment to stoke unfortunate situations from inconvenient to life-threatening, rely on events taking place in one location. In Wind Chill, it's the too easily forgotten bag of critical supplies that leaves a couple stranded on a deserted road; in Blair Witch it's the carelessly lost map that leaves people lost in the spooky woods; and in Paranormal Activity it's poor judgment that delays bringing in help before it's too late for a fearful couple dealing with a demonic presence in their home. While all of these movies also rely on an underlying tone of disrespect for one's potentially hostile environment to frame their events around, bad decisions provide the catalysts for heaping on the terror, despair, and desperation.

Parker, Joe, and Dan experience all three. As time passes, they acknowledge they're screwed big time. They can't wait for help; it won't be coming any time soon. They can't jump; they're too high above the ground. They can't climb to the nearest tower; the cable holding their gondala has sharp edges. And though their clothes are stylish, they are not good for keeping them warm in the freezing cold. First shock, then bickering and blame, and then desperation. Dan talks himself into jumping. He convinces himself that even if he gets hurt he can still slide down the slope for help. The other two don't dissuade him as much as they thought they should have afterward. I thought to myself he's not that stupid, he's too high up. He is and he was. Dan jumps. He gets hurt. Badly hurt. Gore-effects-showcase kind of hurt. He also finds out why we were briefly shown a missing skier notice posted in the now deserted lodge.

Their situation goes downhill from here. Dan needs to stop the bleeding. Parker needs to pry her ungloved hand off the steel security bar it freezes to. Joe needs to make a last effort at climbing the steel cable, even though the first time he tried it his gloves and hands were cut up badly. Frostbite is a serious problem and even if they make it to the ground, they still need to survive what waits patiently--and hungrily--for them. I'll leave it at that. I can't tell you much more without ruining the suspense for you (although I'm surprised some professional reviewers have).

This is one time you will not appreciate the pretty snowy scenery in the background.

Meet the Horror Bloggers: Gruesome Details

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, NM from Gruesome Details tells us how horror took a little while to embrace her.

Horror has always been a part of my life; however, I never embraced the genre until middle school. My father and my grandmother were the horror fans, enjoying the stories and the gore of the genre without a care in the world. Nothing frightened me more as a child than a scary movie; it was the music that haunted me when I traveled up the stairs to go to bed. My father would watch his weekly episode of Tales from the Crypt or another spine-tingling horror film from the 80s while my mother tucked me in at night. The music was the worst, chilling me to the bone because I knew something terrible was happening or going to happen on the screen in the living room.

After years of anxiety and torment from the horror genre, I made the conscious decision to watch a horror film without my cousins or my father. My cousins had tormented me as a child, tricking me into watching parts of horror films without my knowledge and laughing when I realized what was on the television screen. I embraced the horror genre in that first viewing without regrets or remorse, especially when I realized that I had such a selection of films I had ignored for years. Films have always been prevalent in my life, renting movies with my parents and traveling to the movie theatre sporadically during my childhood. And the horror genre was a new outlet of films I could enjoy.

Meet the Horror Bloggers: Chuck Norris Ate My Baby

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, Matt from Chuck Norris Ate My Baby blames his mom for all the horror.

I think I can blame my mother for indirectly pointing me in the direction of horror films and cult cinema. She wasn't a huge horror fan by any stretch, but she loved movies like Halloween, Jaws, and War of the Worlds etc...and some of my fondest memories are of us watching all of these films and others together on TV. She would wax nostalgic and tell me tales of when she went to see Jaws in the theaters and how there was a line around the block, or how people would freak out around her while viewing The Exorcist when she saw it in theaters. All of that stuff was intriguing to me as was the mystery of scary movies.

Graphic Book Review: Criminal Macabre Cell Block 666

Zombos Says: Good (but art needs to lighten up)

I wonder if Steve Niles is as sweet and sour as his supernatural detective Cal McDonald. Probably not, but he writes the feisty McDonald with layers of world-weary spunk so easily it is hard for me to imagine there isn't just a little bit of Niles shining through all that cigarette-smoking, pill-popping, bruised and bandaged, punch-drunk attitude McDonald pushes into his antagonists' faces every chance he gets. Almost like another supernatural detective (so many of them these days, aren't there?), John Constantine, what sets McDonald apart from his brethren--and usually off--is the constant kick to his spiritual and physical groin, even when he's looking.

In Cell Block 666, McDonald is up against a traitorous ghoul, corrupt cops, and Nick Stakal's dire pencil scratches that leave much of the scenery in the dark and everyone looking like they've been carved out of clay with a sharp razor. Stakal's stylistic overuse of shadow and heavy lines renders very creepy ghouls, but it obliterates the more subtle features of mere mortals including McDonald, giving characters gruff, acerbic faces more sour than sweet. With all this darkness, the colorist doesn't stand a chance, either; so much of McDonald's prison time and trying-to-stay-out-of-prison time is muted in an overly noir world. Stakal's two-page spread showing the prison building is lacklustre because there's just not enough to see. When it comes to zombies, however, I'll keep mum. Stakal's murk and gloom and paper-cut edges, muted in color, fit them to a tee.  

Tired of laying low because the cops have been hot on his ass for a crime he didn't do (at least this one, anyway), McDonald hits the bar to hoist a few. Ghoul-help or not, he winds up being seen, captured, then taken for a long ride to a short cell. Moloch pops in and out, lending a cold helping hand where he can, but McDonald is forced to conjure up a reprieve or wind up deader than his ghoulish friend. Niles is best when relationships matter, and his odd camaraderie between McDonald and Moloch gives this adventure its more pleasing moments. Moloch has his own hands full when a traitor reveals a power struggle within the ghoul's rank and file.

Come on Stakal, give McDonald a break: go heavier on the detail and lighten up the murk. The poor bastard's got it tough enough. He must spend a fortune in bandages and aspirin as it is.

 

Movie Review: The Book of Eli (2010) Grindhouse Meets Dogma

Zombos Says: Very Good

Grindhouse determinism and dogma meld into a spiritual and violent road trip in The Book of Eli. Denzel Washington is Eli, and the book he carries on his journey westward--or thereabouts for thirty years--is desired by Carnegie (Gary Oldman), who has been searching for it for probably just as long. Their struggle over possession of the book provides the movie's grindhouse-styled bedlam, but the movie transcends blatant exploitative elements by substituting faith, destiny, and the passion of the Gibson's Mad Max sense of purpose when surrounded by despair for the more lurid and gratuitous action of pure exploitation.

Eli's arm-length knife, one that would make Crocodile Dundee wet his pants, is exploited for all its heft. Worth more than a flaming sword, Eli wields it with uncanny precision; even, it seems, as if the blade moves before he does. He carries the book, his knife, a dingy iPod connected to a large battery, and a prayer down a near-endless road stretching off into the distance under a cloudy sky. All around him is bleak terrain, desolation, and post-apocalyptic wreckage of people and artifacts. The human wreckage is the most dangerous. His only purpose is to keep moving westward and keep the book safe, but Carnegie and the occasional gang looking for their next meal interfere. He says "we don't have to do this" just before he does, and what he does with that blade is fast and lethal.

A roadside encounter with a group of smelly thugs under an overpass is ended by swift and eloquent damage inflicted by his blade. You do not see any blood; it is all done in silhouette. But clearly, limbs, heads, and any available body part within slashing range are assaulted with ballet-like precision. Another encounter with a motorcycle gang, inside the local watering hole, is dealt with in a giddy 360 degree spin-view of thrusting, parrying, and dying. This time there is no darkness to hide the spilling blood or flying body parts. The ruckus brings Eli to Carnegie's attention. Carnegie insists he hand over the book, Eli politely and resolutely declines. Carnegie tries to seduce Eli with some worldly pleasure provided by Solara (Mila Kunis), but he declines that offer also. Instead, he and Solara hold hands and pray.

The book Eli carries is very important. It is the only copy still around; all others were destroyed because people believe the book was the cause of the apocalypse. I wonder if there are other Eli's in other countries, all walking westward and carrying books that also survived. The movie does not dwell on philosophical digressions, but it does provide an intriguing counter-balancing theme: in the hands of Carnegie, the book will be used for selfish and evil purpose; he fancies himself a new Mussolini. In the hands of Eli, the book is the cornerstone to salvation for mankind. In our world, substitute certain books for the one Eli carries and the same paradigm of outcomes exist.

Solara joins Eli and both are soon pursued by Carnegie and his henchmen. Why is it the brainy guy always manages to command the brawnier, gun-toting military types in apocalyptic movies? The showdown occurs at a little white house, standing in the middle of nowhere, inhabited by a chatty elderly couple. They invite Eli and Solara in for tea, but Eli notices Martha (Frances de la Tour) has the kind of shakes that do not come from eating too many cucumber sandwiches. They are leaving just as Carnegie and his armed force arrive. Not much is left standing, but there is a surprise moment that almost seems to end the movie right here. A streak of angry lightning marks the moment.

There have been other movies touching on the profound effect books have on society, such as Francois Truffaut's Farenheit 451 and John Boorman's Zardoz, but none have blown up more things or shed more blood. This contrast between the deadly serious and the seriously deadly keeps The Book of Eli an engrossing and surprising experience ripe for interpretation.

Roger Ebert, in his review, points out there are WTF moments of impossibility and incomprehensibility. True; but isn't that what faith is all about? These moments provide The Book of Eli with an absurdity to rival grindhouse sensibility while still intensifying the fundamental emotion we feel. Believable or not, Washington's Eli is unperturbed in the face of adversity and made nearly invincible by his faith. Traits many of us envy, apocalypse or not.

LOTT D: Movies Of Apocalyptic Proportions

Beware! The members of the League of Tana Tea Drinkers open their bomb shelters to reveal a never-ending parade of pre and post apocalyptic movies. You are warned! And pack a light lunch.

 

The Moon Is a Dead World: Doomsday

I wasn't sure what to expect from Doomsday, coming from director Neil Marshall who also worked on the very popular film The Descent from 2005. It looks like a zombie film but it's technically not about zombies; it feels like a comic book but it's not that either. But though Doomsday looks a lot like The Descent's gritty, dirty world, it's lacking in the scares and the intensity that drove it.

TheoFantastique Ponders the Apocalyptic In Three Movies

Legion: Apocalypse and the Postmodern Imagination

In the history of the Western world the Judeo-Christian apocalyptic has been the most influential. In that religio-cultural context one of the key apocalyptic texts has been St. John’s Book of Revelation.

Hitchcock's The Birds as Precursor to Nature Apocalypticism

A couple of weeks ago my wife found a copy of Hitchcock’s The Birds at the library and she checked it out for me. We watched it later that day, and later I then watched the bonus materials that went behind the scenes. I was struck by two things...

2012 and the Mayan Calendar of the End

2012 taps into the long undercurrent of millenarianism and apocalyptic thought in Western culture. This overlaps with environmental concerns, prophets and prophecy, ancient civilizations (with the Mayans being of special interest as 2012 and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull indicate), and especially the Mayan calendar.

Meet the Horror Bloggers: The Horror Effect

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, B-Movie Becky of The Horror Effect explains how horror crept into her life.

Upon the lap of my guffawing father, I was raised on the horror film. Armed with a clunky VHS camcorder, I fell in love with filmmaking at the age of thirteen in my rural hometown of Maple Valley, Washington. Countless short films and bottles of fake blood later, I went on to earn a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Film Production, with minors in Honors and Legal Studies at Chapman University in Orange, California. After graduation, I married the man I met over a friendly game of Counter-Strike nine years ago. We have since graduated from Counter-Terrorist vs. Terrorists to Infected vs. Survivors. When it comes to filmmaking, we are partners in crime and are constantly working on new projects. I am currently editing a documentary on ecology for a non-profit organization and continuing to build my resume with film experience.

LOTT D: Horror Comic Crypt 2

The bells strike the midnight horror. Dare you enter the comic crypt with The League of Tana Tea Drinkers to dig up the dirt on horrifying comics (and those others)? Who knows what you may discover buried deep between the covers. Make sure your flashlight's batteries are strong, pack a good midnight snack, and mind the rats. Now let's go.

Uranium Cafe: The Sleazy World of Eerie Publications

Myron Fass was to magazine publishing what Ron Ormond and Al Adamson were to film making, only consistently lacking their sometimes dubious scruples and ethics. His best remembered for his wild assortment of magazines published from the 60’s to 70’s by the company called Countrywide Publications that he partnered with Stanley R. Harris.

My Monster Memories: Tomb of Dracula Issue 1

This is probably my favorite comic book that I ever bought. I picked it up in late March of 1972, when I was 13 years old, at my regular haunt for comics and books; Chichester's drugstore on Vineville Ave. in Macon GA.

Robot 6: Sinister Six: Alt-Horror Update

Before Halloween I posted a list of "Six Deeply Creepy Alt-Horror Cartoonists" as part of Robot 666's week-long reign of terror. Well, these avatars of alternative comics' dark side have been up to some interesting things lately.

Vault of Horror: House of Mystery Halloween Annual

I recently got my grubby hands on House of Mystery's first-ever Halloween Annual, and can honestly say it made my Halloween just a little more festive. In some ways, the issue does a better job of recapturing the old Creepy Magazine feel than Dark Horse's actual Creepy revival book--albeit in a more mature, Vertigo style.

Moon is a Dead World: Victorian Undead Issue 1

Horror has recently found a fascination in remaking the Victorian age of literature. We've seen novels parodying Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, and now we have a creation from Ian Edginton and Davide Fabbri pitting Sherlock Holmes and Watson against mindless zombies. Do we have a fascination in debauching (in a good way) the classics?

Zombos' Closet: Vincent Price Presents Issues 1, 2, 3

Using the persona of famed horror actor Vincent Price to host a series of illustrated terror tales is a demanding challenge.

Some Blogging Rules To Review By

...after seeing it, I realized that I was faced with an interesting dilemma...the movie was not very good. The acting, for the most part, was uninspired, with the exception of the female lead, who was awful. The editing and camerawork was sub-par, to the point of seriously detracting from the viewing experience. The script was amateur and forced. At just under an hour in length, it was still difficult to get through. Even the opening and closing theme music seemed entirely inappropriate to the material.
However, in researching the film, both before and after viewing, virtually all the reviews and feedback I found regarding it were resoundingly positive. And this has been a situation echoed many times since I began the Vault. This time, I was tired of saying nothing about it. (The Vault of Horror: The Emperor Has No Clothes; or Payola In the Age Of Blogging)

B-Sol at The Vault of Horror, in writing his review for the movie Serial: Amoral Uprising, has touched upon the dirty little black book too many horror movie reviewers carry around with them. Scan the pages of that book and you'll see notes on how to avoid offending would-be directors, actors, scriptwriters, and anyone connected with a bad movie; a movie showing little creative energy or talent in its production--a category in which many independent movies all too often fall into. Now I have not seen Serial: Amoral Uprising. I cannot say if it's good or bad or middling or whether it's worth watching or not. This is not the point, I think, B-Sol is trying to make (although he clearly did not like the movie). What surprised him--maybe not surprise, let's say irked him--is how a movie, which measured badly on many critical points, could receive only glowing reviews; not one, but many. How could that be? The answers are in that dirty little black book.

When I first started blogging I eagerly sought after screeners. I wanted to be a movie critic and I believed screeners would be a great way to hone my critical skills. After the second year of receiving them--and I admit I actively solicited for them--I found myself in a predicament: I realized most of them were of movies done by amateurs who had not paid their dues, or worse, didn't realize they needed to. Basic camerawork, basic scene setups, basic storytelling, basic acting, and all those basic craft things taught in school--or by hard knocks--to produce a watchable movie were ignored outright, or worse, trifled with. I began to feel insulted. I also felt embarrassed, even intimidated, because I had asked for many of them and I felt compelled to not write a bad review. I felt beholden to the director or marketing agent who sent it. This was not, and is not, a good place to be put in.

I'm not saying all the screeners I received were bad. I've had good and rewarding indie movies come my way, and through them I've developed relationships with directors, actors, and writers who've helped me grow as a blogger and critic. Some were skilled people who knew their way around a camera, and others who, with a little more budget, a little more practice, and a little more experience would improve their craft; their movie showed that.

But like B-Sol, many times when I'd research a movie's reviews before accepting or soliciting for it I'd find raves where hisses should have been heard. No balanced reviews, just kudos for clearly what should have been recognized as poor filmmaking. Of course I stopped reading those reviewers, some of whom were connected to commercial horror websites. Either their critical acumen was questionable, or they simple didn't want to hurt someone's feelings, or they didn't want to be shut out from receiving more screeners. That last one can be found in that dirty little black book's table of contents under How to Keep Getting Screeners By Not Biting the Hand That Gives.

It's a situation every movie blogger, and especially horror blogger, eventually faces, and one which test's your professionalism. Once you've compromised by writing a misleading review so no feeling's are hurt or because you're afraid you won't get those freebies anymore--and I've walked that tightrope--why should any reader value your opinion? Worse still, you are letting down those who most need the feedback from your honest appraisal: the directors, writers, actors, and production people who need these reality checks to help them improve their craft.

Roger Ebert provides some very good guidelines for dealing with situations like these and how to review movies while keeping your integrity intact.  I recommend reading his little rule book for any movie blogger who takes his or her writing and reputation seriously.

LOTT D: Looking Forward To 2010

In this installment, those party-hardy members of The League of Tana Tea Drinkers ponder the vagaries of the future with a simple question: "What are you most looking forward to in 2010?" After they finish the chip and dip of course.

Day of the Woman: What Excites Her In 2010

The film was everything I wanted it to be and the exploding head was just the cherry on top of a perfect theatre experience.

Dinner With Max Jenke: 10 To Watch In '10

In considering what the future holds, it's worth remembering that some of 2009's most exciting films - like District 9 and Paranormal Activity - were completely off the radar right up to prior  their releases. So who knows what (hopefully pleasant) surprises 2010 might deliver?

Freddy In Space: Looking Forward To Conventions

My first thought was what movie i'm most looking forward to this year but this is a pretty broad question and so i'm not gonna go that route. What i'm most looking forward to this year, in terms of the world of horror, is pretty much the same thing I look forward to the most every year - the conventions.

Cinema Fromage: What I'm Vaguely Excited About

Here’s a quick glimpse at a few upcoming horror flicks for 2010 that has this nerd a bit excited!

Monster Land: Looking Forward to 2010's Horror-esque Movies

Now that we’ve entered 2010. it’s time to put together the list of horror-esque films I’m looking forward to in the New Year.

Vault of Horror: Looking Forward To The Walking Dead On TV

Well, I thought long and hard about it, and lo and behold, it turns out that the one thing in horror I'm most looking forward to is not a movie, but a TV show.

Unspeakable Horror: Looking Forward To The Wolf Man

I am most looking forward to the remake of the Wolfman with Benicio del Toro and Anthony Hopkins.  For me, the original Wolfman is a touchstone of the horror genre--not to suggest that it achieved cinematic excellence, but it did achieve far-reaching influence.

Zombos' Closet: What I'd Like To See In 2010

I'd like to see more supernatural horror in the movie theater. Stories like Paranormal Activity and Drag Me to Hell were a welcome sight in 2009; especially after too many Torture Horror entries were given screen time.

 

Graphic Book Review: The Chill

Zombos Says: Very Good

I worry a lot when reviewing a graphic novel. So many things to consider; you've got the artwork, you've got the writing, you've got everything between the art and the writing--and it all works up to either a good or a bad story. It's an encompassing beam bar balancing act and one little slip can send everything screwy. Then there's the personal bias; every critic has one, whether we admit it or not. Usually we leave it up to the reader to pick it out, like a fly in a bowl of chowder; it's there, but the devil to find it.

Jason Starr and Mick Bertilorenzi manage to balance The Chill without going screwy. Starr's got a nasty habit of using too many get-the-bar-of-soap-ready cuss words in his characters' dialog, but I admit I'm peevish with writers using fuck you this and fookin' that--with variations. It gets in the way of writing really good dialog when you're forced to dance around the expletives you'd naturally rope a dope with. But let me make this easy for you: there's my fly in the chowder.

Starr's story is gritty, sexy, and sopping with imaginative Druid magic references. Bertilorenzi's artwork makes it come alive. His panels barely contain it all and spill across the pages, keeping up the momentum of Starr's mystery that begins in County Clare, Ireland a ways back, and continues over the years, getting worse as she goes.

A lover escapes death and the lovee has something awaken inside her. It's called the chill. Not really good for her or her lovers, but her dad benefits most from it. As to why that is, you won't hear it from me; you need to read the story. But I can tell you Bertilorenzi's visual interpretation of Starr's terror--all the bad killings, the cuss-mouthed but obtuse detectives, the gritty city, and the nasty messing the sheets sex is rendered in black and white and shades of gray. He's got a good Mickey Spillane trashiness going with Starr's innocent and blemished people meeting their doom.

The only glamour in this story comes from Irish magic. Most everyone starts off looking good, but Starr must have some flies in his chowder, too, because even professors and priests wind up researching and preying more than they morally or legally should.

Review copy provided by DC Comics/Vertigo.

Were The Three Stooges First In Torture Horror?

Sure, they look dumb and innocent enough. But maybe there was something more sinister lurking being all those yucks and chuckles. Were the Three Stooges the first to use torture horror in movies? Here's the evidence. Judge for yourself.

Looks like an inspiration for a fiendish SAW death contraption to me. Just look at the sheer terror on Curly's face.

I think I saw this fiendish device used in The Collector.

And what about this one. Looks like a storyboard scene straight out of Cube!

Finally, I definitely remember seeing this in Hostel. Just look at the malicious glee on Larry's face. I rest my case.