Posts Tagged ‘film

10
Jan
12

The Devil Inside: The Devil’s in the Dullness

a Primal Root written review

Man, The Blair Witch Project feels like it was ages ago…Well, here we are with another quickie cash in on the current super cheap “found footage” trend. This time instead of a ghost, alien or witch we’re dealing with the ever freaky prospect of exorcisms. A found footage concept that’s been done before recently and a bit better in 2010′s  “The Last Exorcism”.  Hey, at least that film managed to be even remotely entertaining for more than 5 minutes of it’s run time…

The Devil Inside is the story of a young woman looking to close a chapter in her life that’s plagued her since she was a child. Her mother’s condition which led her to slay three clergy members during her own exorcism. Mom was shipped off to Italy in order undergo treatment for her mental illness but her daughter Isabella isn’t so quick to rule out demonic possession.  This is the mock-doc of Isabella’s trip to Italy to visit her mother where she encounters real life exorcists who take her out on dates to watch them work their brand of incompetence on young ladies who can pop ‘n’ lock like none other! This is the true story of when demons stop being polite and start getting real…

"True Sto-RAAAAY!" obscure?

Long gone are the days of the possessed spewing bile into preachers faces, no, nowadays they are more likely to spray you copious amounts of vagina blood like fruit punch squeezed forth from the little straw pocking out of the top of a Hi-C juice box.  And that kind of shit is fun to watch. It’s freaky, it’s unnatural, and it is pretty gross (unless you’re into that sort of thing, in which case, this flick might get ya hot under the collar.) and it works. The strongest element of this film are these scenes of demonic possession and the battle to rid these folks of their hellish ailments. And these scenes are pretty captivating, the strongest of which, involves a priest performing a baptism on an infant.

The sad fact is, none of these scenes really mean much, because the filmmakers forgot the create interesting characters the audience could empathize with. Fernanda Andrade as Isabella seems completely void of emotion for the duration of the picture. During these intense, violent and over the top exorcism sequences (one of which involves her own mother) the camera every so often pans to Isabella for a reaction shot. And as the blood spews forth from splayed vaginas and priests that are as physically imposing as a five year old get tossed across rooms and into walls, Isabella’s typical reaction is utter boredom. This reaction pretty much sums up my reaction to the other 97% of The Devil Inside.

Dramatic recreation of the look on my face when "The Devil Inside" ended.

And in so lies the films ultimate weakness: dullness. There’s just nothing happening foe the majority of the film. We get some priests debating the whether exorcism is real or just mental illness (guess which debate wins out in the end!), people bickering, and montages of Isabella walking around Italy looking bored and uninterested.  Now, I can;t be sure where the fault should really lie for such a boring film. I mean, this is supposed to be a documentary film gone wrong, correct? Depressingly enough, the guy behind the camera never comes off as a competent filmmaker to begin with. So do we blame the fictional documentary filmmaker? IS he supposed to suck at his profession? Or is it the actual filmmakers themselves who can’t put together a thoughtful, exciting, engaging film on the subject of mental illness, family ties, faith and possession? Why waste such a potentially good story on the same tired formula that Paranormal Activity has exploited for three movies?

Because people eat this shit up for some reason. 1. Have nothing interesting happen for 45 minutes of screen time. 2. Insert a loud dog barked 3. Watch everyone jump and scream in shock as your film takes the bold step of having something actually happen4. Profit. This is fucking LAZY film making, people. This is the kind of thing that gives the horror genre such a bad name. And this is the kind of vacuous, meaningless, fast food offerings the mainstream horror audience is fed and they slurp up as if it’s filet mignon.  Mainstreamers, you have steadily acquired a taste for Grade-A dookie. Yes, you are being served heaping spoonfuls of shit.  There’s nothing interesting here. Nothing thoughtful or truly horrifying nor is there anything campy or fun about The Devil Inside. It simply exists with just about nothing to offer.

Despite some relatively strong performances from supporting players Simon Quarterman and Evan Helmuth as two young renegade exorcists who aid Isabella in her quest and Suzan Crowley as Isabella’s Mother,  Maria Rossi, who pretty much steals the show with every scene in which she appears. She, alone, nearly makes the film worth it. If only we had more time with her.  The film also kicks it into high gear towards the end of it’s running time where it even hints at becoming interesting.  Really. the final ten or fifteen minutes promise of some great rewards only for the movie to pull the rug out from under us and leave us with nothing but frustration and 90 minutes of out lives wasted.

I’m sure they are saving all that for the sequel, which is at this point certain, after this honking log of shit somehow managed to ingest 36 million dollars of hard earned dollars from the accounts of countless movie goers this past weekend despite terrible notices and an ad campaign that looked more like a warning. I guess it proves my old theory that pure evil always works when it’s far more subtle. Why drive the audience completely fucking insane with something truly horrific and mind altering when you can simply bore them to the point of  crying in uncontrollable sobs of pain and suffering for 10 bucks a head?

That, my friends, is the true face of The Devil…

Stay Trashy!

-Root

07
Jan
12

Night Caller (1976): The Life of The Long Distance Pervert

a Primal Root written review

Have you ever been the victim of an obscene phone call? To be honest, I never have. But, then again, I am a rather beefy guy in his late 20′s and I’m probably the last person on prospective pervert’s hit list.  Honestly, I would probably end up on a pervert watch list before I was ever a victim of such shenanigans, but I digress.  IF I ever were ever the victim of an obscene caller I’m sure I would be fascinated to hear the life story of the person whispering dirty, lustful phrases into my ear  while the  sound of  lubed up wang-doodle stroking slaps about faintly in  he background over the phone line.  Forget the story of Martin Luther King Jr. or Abraham Lincoln, tell me the story of this heavy breathing, faceless, sexual deviant!

Our film begins with Robert (David Book) rolling out of bed, checking the time, and then going to his apartment window to peep on the couple in the building right across from him. The lovers engages in some hardcore 70′s sex, with pounds of heavy pubic coverage, odd usage of hair during oral sex where the guy rubs his shaggy head of hair against his lover’s muff in what comes off looking more like a blind man having lost his way to the vagina than resembling anything even remotely erotic, and a sudden INTENSE difference in this guys erection size. My only guess is that someone slid a stunt cock in there at one point or another… Robert watches, chaffs the carrot, and becomes obsessed…

Over the course of the film we learn Robert harbors incestuous feelings for his Mother and sister . He thinks back to two memories in particular while in the company of a very bored prostitute with intense grandma hair.  One features his sister, who catches him peeping, and then allows him to fondle her while asking him if he thinks she’s attractive and if he likes her “tits”. The other is of his topless mother, (again) catching him peeping, who berates him, topless, as he stares at her “cratch” and impressively proportioned  boobs that bounce around freely as she shakes her finger at him hollering “You’re a bad boy! What am I going to do?” The answer? Repeat those two lines for ten minutes while remaining topless and allowing your son to continue to ogle your lady flesh.  It’s excitement by repetition for young Robert and it seems to have left a lasting impression.

The bulk of the film is made up of Robert fooling around with prostitutes and harassing his voluptuous red-headed neighbor Carol (Monique Starr) via uninspired sleazy talk over the phone.  It’s never really made clear as to why he latches onto this neighbor, which could have easily been justified in the story if she even remotely resembled the Mother or Sister he lusted over in flashback, but that’s apparently not the case here.  It seems he is only obsessed with her because…she’s there and answers the phone.  The creators of the film obviously spent a little bit of time trying to create a somewhat realistic, believable,  character out of Robert but some of the dots just don’t connect.

By film’s end Robert manages to con his way into Carol’s life through feigned car troubles, a lunch date and then offering to come over to protect her from the  terrible voice on the phone.  It’s “Night Callers” central relationship/plot point, and one that was in dire need of more attention within the story. But, I guess that’s the short fall of most pornographic films that strive to meld with another genre. The story has to be put on hold repeatedly in order for a scene of intense genital penetration and cock gobbling may be inserted. (pun intended?) The central growing relationship between Robert and Carol is mostly left by the way side with little development and depressingly falls back on the old thriller convention of the damsel in distress being dumb as a sack of used prophylactics. It makes no sense that Robert can weasel his way into Carol’s life with with such incredible ease! Especially when she’s in such a huff over the Night Caller.

Night Caller does offer up some cool surprises, my favorite of which is a little diversion, where we are introduced to a blonde, husky- voiced character named Helen, whom Robert has called in he hopes of overhearing some good jerk-off material. Helen is framed in a very tight close-up of her face as the scene commences only to pull back and reveal that Helen is, in fact, a man in drag, and is getting head from a female dressed up as a man.  It’s the most intriguing and inventive scene of a film filled with rather generic material. It continues into a relatively well shot sex scene and ends with dual money shots (!!!) as Helen cums not once, but twice, in a period of about 3 minutes.  Not only this, but Helen’s partner, after a lengthy period of tit fucking, holds Helen’s cock in her hand and takes the first of his load up her nose (on accident) and then aims Helen’s tool right at her eye and takes his second blast of chunky dick snot (which looks to be the bulk) right in her eyes! It’s a painful (and hilarious) moment for the viewer and it must have been pretty tough for actress  Laura Bond as well, whose expression is one of annoyance, agony and “Fuck, why did I just point this thing right at my eyes?” I guess when you’re suffocating on a porn load that just shot up your nasal cavity, you aren’t thinking clearly anymore.

My biggest gripe with this film is the damn score by Richard Silsby.  I’m not sure what they were thinking but it the score consists of droning noises and repetitive minor chords that give every single sex scene a sad, creepy, monotonous tone. I understand, this is a sad kind of thriller, but for crying out loud nothing makes a fuck scene more boring than this crap! Give it a listen and I am sure you’ll agree. One interesting thing I noticed was how one of the riffs in the score sounded remarkably similar to the JAWS theme…

The story of Night Caller isn’t exactly a pleasant one and the whole thing will leave most viewers feeling sad, scared and dirty in a way they had no intended. It’s kind of like Taxi Driver if it were all a bout a chronic masterbator who wanted to fuck his Mom and ended up living out a rape fantasy rather than “saving” a young Jodie Foster. Despite the shortcomings in the script, score and cinematography, Night Caller tries hard to deliver more than just your run of the mill porn film.  It’s certainly different and presents some bold and intriguing ideas that are sure to hit a few nerves and make more than couple viewers squirm in their seats.

Night Caller was a film made early in the cannon of both writer Dean Rogers and legendary porn director Anthony Spinelli. Testing the waters here, the two would go on to create such classics as “Nothing to Hide”, “Skin on Skin”, “Talk Dirty to Me” and  “Revenge of the Pussy Suckers from Mars”.  Spinelli had over one hundred films to his credit before passing away in May of 2000 at the age of  73. The man’s legacy speaks for itself.

Night Caller is a greasy, creeper of a flick. Certainly not for the casual purveyor for Trash and Sleaze Cinema. However, if you are looking for one dark, oddball XXX film that will have you feeling filthy in no time, I cannot recommend Night Caller enough!

Stay Trashy!

-Root

21
Jul
11

‘It’s Wonderful Being a Girl’ : The one the girls watched while the boys were outside.

Hey Gang,

Being a teenager sucks. Especially during that awkward phase when you hit puberty like a ton of bricks.  You’re pitching a tent every 30 seconds, your face bursts forth with Technicolor zits, you begin smelling like canned tamales and you suddenly find yourself  sounding like the fry cook at Krusty Burger. Yeah, growing up is harrowing and I thought I had it tough never really weighing my female peers into the equation. The I saw ‘It’s Wonderful Being a Girl’ and realized I had it easy as Paris Hilton’s dog.

I originally came across this awkward and strangely adorable 1968 Sex Ed film regarding puberty and menstruation when I purchased an old VHS tape full of sex hygiene short subject PSA’s. Now, why they would classify a woman’s period as some kind of sexually transmitted disease is another discussion, but ‘It’s Wonderful Being a Girl’ was the highlight of the entire 90 minute tape.

‘It’s Wonderful Being a Girl’ introduces us to Jean and Libby, two young girls who live across the street from one another and are best friends. Jean has already begun to mature, while Libby is blooming a bit later. Our story focuses primarily on Libby who seeks guidance from her Mother, Jean, her school teacher and Johnson & Johnson, makes of all fine feminine hygiene products, as she navigates the tasks of bowling, roller skating and swimming with her new found excretion.

Do they even make these kind of Sex Ed films anymore? It’s so straight-faced and earnest is just becomes endearing.  Watching Libby as she copes with the numerous highs and lows of becoming a woman and dealing with the total package that comes along with her period is dealt with such openness, honesty and sweetness it feels like an alternate universe.   And the young girl who plays Libby is quite believable and does a great job conveying her shifting emotional states as she rides the uneasy tide.

So check out ‘It’s Wonderful Being a Girl’ and join Libby on the mortifying experience that is, growing up. Make sure to stay till the end as to witness Libby’s awesome final huge, goofy smile before the camera fades out. Prepare to be entertained and educated!

Stay Trashy and Hygienic,

-Root

21
Apr
11

Insidious? More like Ridicirous

a Primal Root written Review

Man, do I love a good ghost story. I am a bit of a skeptic when it comes to ghost stories, haunted houses and supernatural tales in general, but that does not mean the idea of ghosts doesn’t creep me out. This is why I am so saddened that there are so few GREAT haunted house tales at the googaplex anymore.

They are a rarity.

Which is why I had moderately high hopes for Insidious, the latest film from director James Wan (First Red Flag) the director behind the original Saw and the still born Dead Silence. It is also from the producers of Paranormal Activity (Second Red Flag) . But, hey, the early reviews said it was something pretty spooky and the trailers had me curious so I figured I’d give it a go. So, my date and I curled up in our seats and waited for the scares.

"I am scared."

The story concerns a young married couple and their three youngsters who are living in an old, creaky, fire hazard home that’s obviously haunted from the second you lay your eyes on it. It’s also about twelve stories tall. The Dad (Patrick Wilson) is a school teacher who is never home and leaves his lovely songwriting, baby making, wife (Rose Byrne) home alone to deal with the supernatural happening. Early on their young son, (Ty Simpkins) falls down a ladder in the attic after his negligent parents allow him to wonder off in their death trap of a house. Of course, the kid goes into a pseudo coma that cannot be diagnosed and the haunting gets more severe. So they more to nice, boring, modern house…

And shit gets even worse.

The family calls in some paranormal investigators, psychics in gas masks and the whole things plays out like a pitch to Universal Halloween Horror Nights.

"I am concerned."

To my amazement the first half of this film did an okay job of delivering some genuine intrigue and a handful of jolts. But even as these scares were being delivered I couldn’t help but feel like there were gaping holes in the story here. Like there are entire reels missing from the story. The character development is left at establishing how everyone is related and their method of income. There’s really nothing else there for us to hold onto as far as knowing these characters. The exist, they are scared, and that’s all you need to know. And Dad’s a teacher. Okay, let’s move on.

There’s also a great example of missing film when Patrick Wilson sits on the front steps of the house with Rose Byrne as she voices her concern over the supernatural presence in their house. She tells stories of all these creepy things that have happened to her while Patrick Wilson is away at work…things we as an audience never saw. Why are you telling us about the creepy events when you could be, you know, SHOWING us these things? Isn’t that one of the first rules of screenwriting? Don’t tell us. Show us.

BUTT SEX!

But, overlooking these short falls, the movie does excel in creating some excellent nightmare imagery. This is  when ‘Insidious’ really cooks. When Rose Byrne goes to take out the trash and her record changes to a different song and as she looks in the window she sees a small figure dancing to the music a couple rooms away. Or when Patrick Wilson’s Mom, Barbara Hershey, describes a nightmare she had where she encounters a dark presence in their son’s room. All these images and the way they are filmed and presented feel exactly how nightmares do and it’s chilling stuff.

Sadly, the film faulters in it’s final act when ‘Insidious’ shows it’s cards. Patrick Wilson goes tot he other side and we are shown WAY too much of that supernatural world these creatures inhabit. Some things are so much more horrifying when left to the imagination. As Dad faces off against the Darth Maul looking, hoof footed menace who loves tip toeing through the tulips, you get the distinct feeling the flick has completely jumped the shark.  My date actually mentioned how much the second half felt like an ‘Are You Afraid of the Dark?’ episode, and she was spot on. It’s as if James Wan wrote his ass into a corner and took the lazy way out. Rather than paying things off with scares it transforms into a snooze fest as the audience begins looking at their watches wondering when it will all come to an end.

How the audience looked during the second half od Insidious.

The filmmaker tries to pull off a twist ending like his previous films, but anyone who is aware of his penchant for ham handed twists will see this one coming a mile away, and it’s a face palmer of a way to end things. What started out modestly interesting ends in a flash of empty spook house tactics that are somewhat fun to look at but don’t really work when it comes to tapping into the psychology of those watching hoping to go home hoping for that thrill of the ghost story to still be with them when they turn out the light to go to bed…

Stay Trashy!

-The Primal Root

20
Apr
11

uncle grumpy fuck remembers: “Manos”: The Hands of Fate (part two of two)

an Uncle Grumpy Fuck recollection…

We’re taken back suddenly to the young Sodomite couple,still going at it hours later,and yet again our fun is ruined by the arrival of the fuzz..I swear to Manos if they ruin our potential fluid covered fuck scene one more time I will take a stick and draw unflattering caricatures of their 4 mothers in the sand and piss on them!!! Damn!..sigh…


Meanwhile Frank Zappa wakes up looking fresh as a daisy, gives Tunafish Sandwich Man a pupparoni, says his 10 hail Manos’s, and bids his snoozing slave chicks awaken. One minute they’re part of the decor,then quicker than OJ slicing white meat they’re babbling away like hens on robin eggs. Small surprise. They yammer and bicker over whether to sacrifice an unclean tardling to their loving demigod and finally a 6-vegan tag team of epic proportions begins. ..and much semen is spilled. Seriously, from Enter the Dragon to Gymkata you will never find choreography to compare to this dazzlingly arousing vag-battle. It’s just that good,damn, more peppermint for the grands! Heh!
Back home, as Torgo counts little hunchback sheep Frank arrives and after gaining control of his lust wakes the sleeping manservant with a tender tap on his hot curly weenie, with his staff. Whoa, settle down ladies. Torgo stirs and after an argument over missing dandruff on the slave chicks shoulders, Frank banishes him from the Junior League forever. The shock is too much and our hero swoons like John Waters at a Justin Beiber concert. Frank then delivers a demoniacal laugh and mesmerizing gaze that would chill the blood of ..I don’t know, something with a lot of blood I guess,I don’t know, a tick or something..no, a cow, it would chill the blood of a large cow,okay?


Back to the bound and still unconscious Mr W, the dingos have apparently smelled his young malformation’s stench upon him and have left him alone to die of exposure when one of Frank’s walking mushrooms sneaks up to him, then in a total confusion of emotion she passionately sucks his teeth clean then slaps the living crap out of him several times in an unsuccessful attempt to rid him of head lice.
Master Zappa in the meanwhile,with one of his trollops and the subdued Torgo return to their squatters camp to find the other nymphs STILL going at it! ..and we’ve been missing it all this time! Damn your eyes Jew directorproducterscreenplay guy! Shit! ..His personal strumpet leaps onto one of the combatants and smacks her fillings out before Frank immediately settles them down by holding up a bottle of xanax. Frank then orders the sweaty mosh crowd to do away with Torgo so they engage in a scene of group petting and tickling that makes your scrotum itch, until he suffers an aneurysm from an overabundance of shoulder pheromones. What a way to go for our hero,makes you wish you had large calcium deposits on your back too don’t it?! Over all of this Coletrane and Liberace just cannot get coordinated on the soundtrack music. Then suddenly the supposedly dead Torgo gets up and Frank turns his hand into another charred addition to the inside decor and Torgo escapes to Guatemala to found a new church in the name of his newest savior, Captain Beefheart.


Meanwhile Mr. W has woken up and escaped from the pretend bonds,rushing to get his lovely bride and their casualty of creation away from there before Frank gets his mic and amplifiers set up. We then see that Frank is killing some time slapping the dogshit out of his first wife,by Manos how many men wish…sigh,nevermind. One of his skags then informs him that the family has escaped and Frank orders them pursued and brought back before Sanford and Son begins,they scramble to do so.   The family finally decides to go back to the abode,though they’ve eluded capture up to then, but as they return and approach the compound, Frank and Tunafish Sandwich Man emerge to go for walkies. Mr W whips out his pistol and fires away,intent on revenge for the Valley Girls movie,however Frank being dead as a doornail is unaffected by the simple blanks.
The movie closes with a couple of skanky prostitutes driving up into the sticks to hit up their meth dealer for some smoke when they come upon the compound and Mr. W walked out and starts delivering Torgo’s dialogue. Apparently Frank wanted to be in the sequel and offered Mr. W Torgo’s job in trade for his clinging vine wife and their stunted cabbage cub. Naturally Mr. W goes for it and we have a happy ending and the film closes with another awful number by Kitt,ugh, singing.

There you have it, an accurate and informative review and critique of a film that has grown like a lovely poisonous mushroom into the classic it deserves to be viewed as,praise Manos.

25
Feb
11

My Soul to Take…eh, you can keep it.

A film as inspired as it's poster art...

a Primal Root written review
Man, oh, man, do I remember a time when Wes Craven was the man. When he was the sick hippie sadist who brought us flicks like the brutal rape/revenge classic Last House on the Left and the road-trip mutant fiasco film, The Hills Have Eyes. He created (althoughRobert Englund deserves just as much credit) the most iconic and important boogieman of the last 30 years in hideously scarred, murderous, dreamstalker, Freddy Krueger… He even brought the slasher film back for a post-modern rebirth with the Kevin Williamson-penned Scream franchise. But then something went horribly wrong. Scream 3 sucked. As did his werewolf flick, Cursed…Red Eye was really his last decent film before he went into producer mode and got on board the remake wagon to oversee the re-imaginings of some of his beloved earlier works with varying degrees of success…
And then, in 2010, Wes Craven came back with a new and original horror film in 2010! One that would prove once again why he is considered a Master of Horror! A supernatural horror film about schizophrenia, possession, soul collecting, California Condors, superstition, urban legend, prayer, pregnancy, blow jobs and two male leads who have terrible hair look like they smell even worse. Oh yes, here comes My Soul to Take…IN 3D!!!
As a horror fan I try to defend Wes to the best of my ability. The guy has seriously made some fantastic films, many of which he penned himself. He’s created memorable, timeless horror classics that are still viewed, still entertaining and still discussed today. He once upon a time proved that truly memorable horror didn’t just go after your guts, but after your mind as well. Sure, you can gross people out but if you really want your audience to be thinking about your movie when they go to bed the best place to attack is upstairs where their deepest, darkest fears live.
My Soul to Take was the last straw.
Our film begins with a grizzly killing spree in which a husband and father has the revelation that he is “The Ripper”, a serial killer that’s been going around town gutting folks with his super cool knife he must have ordered from swordsofmight.com. See, this fellow didn’t realize he was “The Ripper” because he’s schizophrenic…*sigh*. He calls his shrink but it’s already too late because he’s already slashed up and killed his pregnant wife. When the police arrive he has stabbed himself multiple time and is about to hack up his tiny daughter when the cops blow him away. But not very well. Because this asshole wakes up for approximately a dozen goddamn jump scares that are far more hilarious than they are shocking. The film’s prologue ends with an ambulance explosion, about five more dead bodies and three critically injured…and the killer somehow crawls off the gurney and is never heard from again…
SIXTEEN YEARS LATER!

Turns out on the night The Ripper was killed SEVEN children were born. That’s right, seven kids in this small community were born on the night The Ripper died. And on their collective birthday these kids go down to the river and perform some kind of passion play where they invoke The Ripper’s spirit and then knock over a puppet…I dunno. The cops show up just as all our stock characters are listed off. Several of them gather behind a fallen log o spend what feels like 20 fucking minutes discussing the myths and urban legend surrounding The Ripper. See, we already know everything that happened. We just saw it at the very beginning of the film. So to hear all these stories surrounding The Ripper is mind numbingly tedious.

What't the blind character looking at over there?

 

We’ve all seen Wes Craven’s magnum opus, A Nightmare on Elm Street. Remember how well Freddy’s back story was handled? It was always kept in the shadows. It was whispered about and the audience learned along with our hero Nancy just who her nemesis was. This added to our interest as an audience and gave the whole film a veil of mystery and suspense. When you show your audience from the outset what the back story of your villain is there’s not much left to reveal. But, then again, we still haven’t gotten to the California Condor/ Soul Collector shit yet…
Once My Soul to Take’s opening gore soaked hilarity comes to an end and our 7 possibly evil teens are introduced the pacing slows down to a snail’s pace. After one teen is dispatched in a relatively well handled murder sequence the film, once again, takes detour into Expositionville, where it spends the majority of its running time. We get a little taste of all 6 (sorry, one dies early on) of these kids’ lives but none of them are developed. Even our lead red herring, Bug, is never clearly defined. We know he makes really cool puppets and costumes, speaks in creepy voices,  likes the blonde girl but is only liked by the red headed uber-christian…I dunno, he’s the lead and I can’t tell you anything more about him than this without revealing any of the twists you’ll guess right from the beginning. Still, I will try to be a gentleman and let you figure it out on your own.
It’s apparent that the creative force behind My Soul to Take has no clear grip on what it is to be a teenager in America.  All the typical Breakfast Club characters are present. The pretty one, the outcast, the nerd, the unbelievably violent jock…with the added bonus of an asian weho has 5 minutes screen time, a blind black kid who has 10 and a very attractive red head fire and brimstone religious fanatic. Do any of these character or their clichéd traits add anything of significance to the story? Are you kidding?! Of course not. They all end up as lunch meat and do little more than walk around uttering mundane, ridiculous dialog that you would never hear come out of a teenager’s mouth.
Our teeny-boppers attend a droll and disturbingly empty high school. Really, the school is gigantic yet the only people we ever see in the halls or out in the courtyard are our key players. There’s no hustle or bustle between classes and even the gigantic hallways remain empty as our teen protagonists trade off meaningless, vapid dialog for endless, yawn educing stretches.
And The Ripper himself (Which is my nickname every time I eat a helping of baked beans) is little more than a dreary, watered down potty mouthed amalgam of Freddy and Horace Pinker dressed up in a zombie Bob Marley costume.  There’s also shades of Ghostface from the Scream franchise because The Ripper can’t just stalk and kill these kids. He has to give them taunting cell phone calls beforehand.

I suppose you can guess the fate of 'Blow-Job Gil' if you examine this photo. The Farter, er, The Ripper comes in from behind! Murder? Or surprise butt sex? See the movie...

Come to think of it, it’s almost as if Wes Craven put a handful of his films (Shocker, Scream, A Nightmare on Elm Street) in a blender and hit puree.  Hell, there’s even elements from the lesser Nightmare films to be found. Remember that lame plot device Renny Harlin used in Nightmare on Elm Street Part 4: The Dream Master? The one where Alice absorbed the souls of her friends when they died and she could utilize the one character trait that made them unique (i.e. karate, strength training, um, the power to plug things into outlets and press the power button…) and used those abilities to defeat Freddy in the end? Well, a certain character in My Soul to Take  has the same ability. He’s called the keeper of souls *face palm* only he doesn’t use any of their unique characteristics to defeat The Ripper, I mean what would he use? Blindness? Faith in God? Extreme Bitchiness? Constant Requests for blow jobs? These are not the weapons one needs to defeat a possibly supernatural monster intent on ripping out your lower intestine and using it as a jump rope.
No, this time around the souls help him figure out probability equations…to figure out the identity of the killer. Could it be one of the 7 kids (obviously not that one that dies in the beginning) or is it The Ripper returned from the grave? Or did The Ripper never die? The answer to this question is a lot lamer than you might initially think.
My Soul to Take is  a film chock full of ideas, not good ones, but ideas nonetheless. Craven just can’t seem to find a way to incorporate all of them and leave space to realistically develop his characters or give them understandable motivations and instead just gives them endless scenes where they try and explain to the audience just what in the name of Hell is even happening. I just watched this film and I couldn’t even tell you what the sentiment was. Did Craven have anything to say?  Near the conclusion of the film one characters whines out a line similar to, “People shouldn’t kill eachother all the time!”  Yeah…what a message.

I swear the lead actor is channeling Jesse from A Nightmare on Elm Street part 2 through the entire film. His sister ain't half bad on the left there...

 

Well, My Soul to Take is a hunk of complete crap.  I have to cut this review short because I could go one for another 2,000 words laying out every gripe I have with this flick. And this is coming from a guy who loves Trash Cinema.  Maybe one day I will be able to laugh at this failure, but in the hands of Wes Craven, I expect more. I expect better.

With Scream 4 on the horizon let us all hope Wes Craven can regain some of the edge he once had and bring us something worth our time. I hope Craven can redeem himself. He’s an intelligent and talented man who should know what works in the genre by now. But after watching My Soul to Take, I cannot help but sense a sense of sadness and dread that one of the best  lost his touch. Over a decade ago.

My Soul to Take. Your time to waste.

Stay Trashy,
-The Primal Root

05
Dec
10

Two Moon Junction: The Perils of White Privilage or These are the Problems You Want to Have

a Primal Root review

You know, I always wondered what the way to a gorgeous, sexually repressed, southern debutante’s heart would be. How in the world could I ever get such a woman nekkid and in the sack or living room carpet? Well, believe it or not, the path is easily traversed. All you need is a cute dog and penchant for breaking and entering.

That is, if the 1988 soft core sexploitation flick Two Moon Junction is to be believed. Written and directed by the mastermind  behind The Red Shoe Diaries, Mr. Zalman King (remember his awesome acting skills in such Trash Cinema greats as Trip with the Teacher and Galaxy of Terror?), Two Moon Junction is the tale of a gorgeous  blond, nubile, southern bell named April (played by the supernaturally gorgeous, Sherilyn Fenn of Twin Peaks fame) who is being married off in a kind of arranged marriage to some white bread, yuppie guy mere weeks after they both graduated from their posh, exclusive deep fried southern university.

April lives in a world where everything is white. The houses, the walls, the clothes, the cars, and just about the entire populace. With the exception of the hired help who are all black. Did I mention this movie takes place in modern day 1988? Anyway, April is complacent in her little world of white privilege and arranged nuptials, but she ( of course) yearns for more as evidenced by a buck naked steamy shower at the exclusive gym where she reveals not only her remarkable and perfect bosom but a hidden peephole that leads over to the fella’s side of the showers that’s far too well hidden for us not to assume she hadn’t known about this thing from previous experience. It’s like that scene in Porky’s but in reverse and trying to sell it as a meaningful moment, when really, we just wanted to see some nekkid people. She takes a look at the swinging wang doodles, rubs her Raspberry pop-tart and the Circus comes to town. Literally.

Alice takes her tweenage sisters to the bargain basement traveling fair where she is hit on clunckily by a shirtless, greasy, pockmarked carny hunk by the name of…Perry. The guy is kind of a jerk but he is a hard working, blue collard muscle head  who wants to stick it to April so they exchange the obligatory sexy looks, Perry mocks her fiance, and thenPerry stalks her down and breaks into her house to take a shower while April’s family and fiance are away. Yes, he BREAKS INTO HER HOUSE and takes a shower. At first, April does what any human being with an ounce of smarts would do and threatens to call the cops. He counter-threatens to run out the front door nekkid.  What? She did ask him to leave, right? How is this a threat? Now she’ll have a free pair of smelly acid washed jeans!

Needless to say, after Perry mocks her lifestyle, busts out a video camera and talks a little dirty carny to her she’s just aching for this guy to shake her dust. It’s knees to the sky and the two embark on a whiny, manipulative, vapid, depressing love affair that will have you begging that these two just pull a Romeo and Juliet and end this damn thing.

Now, I am not saying the love scenes aren’t hot. Most of them are. And the ones that work are all due to the ravishing beauty that is Ms. Sherilyn Fenn. Sure, Ms. Fenn gets completely buck naked in Two Moon Junction, but she’s the kind of woman that you can look at fully clothed and still melt. Just look at her face and into those eyes. Hell, just look at her in Twin Peaks. The woman is in a sweater and a long skirt and she still just oozes temptation and sexuality.  She is, really, the only strength Two Moon Junction has. Sadly, she can’t get a bit of chemistry going with her leading carny, Perry, played with very little lunk-head charm by the meaty Richard Tyson. He looks like a romance novel cover come to life and is just about as fulfilling and cliche ridden as the novel itself. Long story short (too late) the guy stinks.

Okay, now that I am thinking about it, the film has one other thing going for it. There are some seriously cute dogs hanging out with Perry. *SPOILER ALERT* Don’t get too attached to the first dog. Booze fueled angry carnies and defensive canines never ever mix. Ever. Especially in soft core porn.

So, does Alice go through with her marriage to her filthy rich, clean shaven white boy or does she choose the rugged, womanizing, bourbon swilling, unemployed carnival worker? Will Alice’s family execute Perry Creepshow style ( it’s hard to say he was a deer when he’s behind the wheel of a Mack Truck)? Will there be a sex scene in the film that doesn’t end with Sherilyn Fenn sobbing her eyes out (is this a turn on to someone? Hell, I’m sure it’s got to be.)? How does beating the hell out of a truck shut down the power to an entire carnival? Does Perry ever get his bourbon? You’ll just have to check out Full Moon Junction and see for yourself!

For whatever reason, I felt incredibly depressed when the movie was over. And I think the ending was …happy? I dunno. You kind of get the sense that Sherilyn was kind of uncomfortable doing this flick which she was told would be her big break. Nope, that came a couple years later thanks to David Lynch, Mark Frost, and the murder of Laura Palmer.  And she didn’t have to take a stitch of clothing off to prove her star power.

It’s a female driven southern sex fantasy with plenty of soft focus, oiled man chest, and unchecked lust, and naked women. There’s not a lot of joy to be had in the proceedings. None of the key players here ever seem entirely happy with any of the options their lives have. Even the ending seems questionable.  It’s the perfect sleazy, soft core movie date for you and that special trashy someone in your life. Especially if you love hearing your lover ray after you have sex.

Stay Trashy,

-The Primal Root

01
Dec
10

Samurai Cop: Six Essential Moments

Hey Gang,

I’ve been asked by quite a few of our fellow Trash Collectors what my favorite Trash Cinema Classic is. Many assume it would be a popular favorite like the recently embraced Troll 2 or the break out craptastic hit, The Room. Is it a big budget bomb the likes of Howard the Duck? A filthy, pervy hunk of garbage like Showgirls? Or possibly an exploitation sleaze fest like Pieces?

Now, the above mentioned films and their ilk all hold a special place in my heart and have their own trashy merit. My favorite is still slowly and steadily being discovered. You know the term, “So bad, it’s good”? Yeah, that doesn’t even begin to describe my all time favorite Trash Cinema film, Samurai Cop.  A no budget, shoddily made piece of action goofiness that surpasses the “So Bad, it’s good” genre and manages to ascend to a higher plain of cheese entertainment. It find brilliance in it’s mental deficiencies.  Strength in it’s countless weaknesses. Panache in the poorest performances. Samurai Cop is…remarkable crap.

In all honesty, Samurai Cop is a film that has to be seen in it’s entirety to be believed. Lucky for you it is available on DVD for super cheap and even includes a hysterical audio commentary track from legendary Drive-In Movie Critic and my personal hero, Joe Bob Briggs which enhances the viewing experience.

However, I have put together a list of six ESSENTIAL clips from the classic action film, Samurai Cop. It’s incredibly difficult to narrow it down to six scenes in a film crammed full of beautiful trashy gems. Really, on a scene by scene basis the amount of ridiculously awesome shit just keeps pouring from the screen. So I did my best to put together these six scenes that I feel define the movie, Samurai Cop. Enjoy!

6. Samurai Cop calls Fujiyama out!

Our hero Joe (Samurai Cop) along with his partner Frank show up unannounced at evil be-mulleted mob boss Fukiyama’s luncheon he has thrown for all his evil henchmen. The scene is incredibly tense and in a barn burner of a scene, Samurai Cop unleashes a powerfully performed cautionary monologue about what America is all about. Prepare to be shaken to your very core.

5. The Black Gift

Samurai Cop may be the star of this film but the man who steals the show is his side kick, Frank. The man has a knack for simply rocking every scene he is in with his natural delivery and ever present sense of humor. At this point in the films Fujiyama has sent out his goons to kill off all the law enforcement officials involved with the investigation into his crime syndicate. Two of these henchmen make their way into Frank’s home just after the man has taken a shower. What truly makes this scene special is how the henchmen threaten Frank, the colorful choice of words and the awkward blocking. Simply, incredible.

4. The Opening Chase Climax and Sex Scene with Peggy (AKA: Keeping it Warm and Ready)

Now, anyone who knows their action movies will tell you any action film must be judged by how badass their opening chase sequence is. Samurai Cop has possibly the funniest, fastest most carnage filled opening car chase battle ever committed to film.  I am serious, it has every cliche in the book as Samurai Cop and Frank drive from a busy marina, through the suburbs and onto a dirt road through the mountains after some drug dealers shooting at random as innocent civilians duck for cover and bad guys fling themselves out of the van as they die.  But the scene reaches it’s apex as our our heros gun down the last man standing, and what goes down directly afterward (before they bother to report back to the chief) with police helicopter officer, Peggy.

3. The Color of Your Ass

Again, Frank is here to save the day as he and Samurai Cop regroup after a horrific stand-ff between themselves and Yamashita’s (Robert Z’Dar’s) henchmen. They dust themselves off and make an ass joke and move on with their investigation.

2. Feminine Costa Rican Waiter & Suicide

Samurai Cop was written and directed by a fellow named Amir Shervan. If you haven’t noticed already, this guy has a peculiar sense of humor. Never is it more apparent than in this scene that springs up out of nowhere between Samurai Cop, Frank and a Costa Rican waiter.

1. Circumcision, Jumbo Jets and the Majesty of Frank

If there is only one scene every must witness from Samurai Cop this is the one. This is the moment where everything falls into place and illustrates just why this film is at the very top of my Trash Cinema pile. I don’t want to ruin a thing for you. Just watch this scene and be amazed.

Like I said earlier, these are just some of my favorite scenes out of a film bursting with great moments just like the ones posted above. By all means, track this classic down and give it a watch. I promise, you will laugh yourself silly. Everyone plays it straight and I really think they all felt like they were making a serious action movie. The finished product comes off as one of the greatest 80′s action parodies ever produced.

So do yourselves a favor. Watch Samurai Cop. And keep it warm and ready in case I decide to drop by later.

Stay Trashy!

-The Primal Root

03
Dec
09

Eraserhead: Black and White Night of the Soul

a Primal Root dirty thought

Maybe there is a fourth kind of Trash Cinema. One that is born of imagination and is so far outside the norm it leaves both audiences and critics completley dumbfounded. A type of Trash that’s so imaginative and introverted no one knows quite what to make of it. Films born of trash and bound for glorious cult status. David Lycnh’s Eraserhead certainly meets this criteria.

As an avidly devoted fan of all things David Lynch one question I always run into is “Why?” followed almost instantly by the blanket phrase “I don’t get his stuff.” To which I look them dead in the eye and say “What is there to get?” Why must you always be blatantly given something by a film?  The one thing I feel all fans of Lynch’s work have in common is a deep abiding love for mysteries and the simple and obvious concept that, hey, maybe there are no easy answers? No quick solutions? No pretty package wrapped up and ready to be presented to you upon completion. It’s one of the more frightening conceits that maybe…just maybe…we’ll never know the answers.

Recently I was asked about one of David Lynch’s most heralded works and possibly one of his hardest for viewers to grasp. Eraserhead. Coincidentally, this happens to be my favorite of Lynch’s work and one of my favorite films ever made. Why is there so much love for this film? Why are certain people in our society completely bat-shit crazy about this strange little fever dream of a picture? Well, fellow Trash Collectors, I’m going to try my damnedest to express my personal admiration and deep abiding nerd love for this most legendary of midnight movie cultism.

And no it’s not about just “I get it and you don’t.”  That’s all bullshit if you ask me. It runs far deeper than this simple declarative statement.

David Lynch’s debut feature film, 1976′s Eraserhead, is like a living nightmare. It is surreal but there are undeniable human truths and emotions there. Dread, pain, abandonment, longing. But that there is also hope and there is love to be found. As the song says, “In Heaven everything is fine.”

But like all dreams, nightmares, and art, their meaning must be interpreted by those experiencing it. The intent of the artist no longer matters. Eraserhead to me is one of the most honest and disturbing depictions of masculinity and the fear of fatherhood ever put to film. About the insecurities we must mask, the emotions we must bottle up, the dreams we must abandon, and the people whom we are that must be repress in order to get by in society. And the desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, there is light at the end of a very dark tunnel. It encompasses all my fears as an adult male. That I am not good enough. That I will fail at business, life, love and be left behind. It’s the darkest fears lying dormant but always weighing heavy on a subconscious level.

But see, my reason for loving and appreciating Eraserhead, and my interpretation don’t mean anything! Lynch created a totally subjective piece of art! My reason for loving it is a million miles away from why this guy or that girl love it. And some people just can’t stand it and that’s absolutely fine as well and completely understandable. But for a group of us Eraserhead struck a chord and there is something distinctly human there. Something warm and indescribable. Hidden in our deepest, darkest, places . Rather than give us answers Eraserhead boldly suggests that we find or make our own. That in life there are no easy answers to these mysteries so much greater than ourselves. That it’s up to us to find our own.

Stay Trashy,

-The Primal Root

In Heaven Everything is Fine. You Got Your Good Thing and I've Got Mine.

07
Nov
09

The Fourth Kind – The Owliens are not what they seem…

4th poster

a Primal Root review

Watch out Nome Alaska! You are being besieged by evil Owliens who are attacking you in your sleep, taking you to spaceships, probing you and erasing your memories. For what purpose? I guess so you can kill yourself and your family? But that doesn’t matter! This is some scary shit and  it’s ALL REAL and we have tons of audio and visual footage to support this case!

Yeah…

I really don’t know where to begin…the obviously faked “real” footage? The terrible performances? The sloppy script? The hackneyed editing? The strange decision to break some segments up into layered four framed split screen? The Fourth Kind is the kind of Trash Cinema it just hurts to sit through.

4th Milla Open

What I saw did disturb me. Probably not in the way the filmmakers intended.

The film opens just like the trailer with Milla Jovovich looking into the camera and spinning around the woods informing us that what we are about to see is 100% real and based on real accounts by real people in the real town of Nome Alaska and you will be “really” disturbed. She fails to mention that her acting skills are completely fake.

Milla - Serious

"I Has Serious Face."

The Fourth Kind features Milla (Resident Evil) Jovovich as the allegedly “real” psychologist, Abbey Tyler. Abbey’s husband was murdered sometime before the beginning of the film and she is left a widow raising their tweenage son and little daughter who went blind after Daddy kicked the bucket. (Huh?) Through her clients Abbey begins to uncover some kind of  epidemic of really scary owl spottings through hypnosis sessions which she video tapes. These tapes are used to annoy the shit out of the audience during split screen segments featuring the “real” footage and the reenacted footage. Sometimes featuring four shifty frames alternating between shots and moving all over the screen. I am all for edgy editing but, man, when one shot is just a shot of a patrol car’s lights flashing how do you justify this decision?  This is just poor filmmaking.

Anyhoo, soon after one hypnosis session goes hilariously awry (Freak out and hoping over the couch breaking a table)  the patient promptly goes home, murders his family and himself in a standoff with the police. Abbey’s professional, rational, intelligent explanation? The Owliens are responsible. That’s right…Owls from outer space… And she ain’t gonna stop till she gets to the bottom of it, by golly!

fourth06rvt1

Abbey harming one of her many patients.

So she puts some more patients through horrible hypnosis sessions where they end up either dead or scarred for life. Soon she is contacted by an Owlien and has no recollection of it other than what she taped on her hand held tape recorder that I am sure she was planning to send to Diane over at FBI headquarters to inform her that “The Owls are Not What They Seem.”

4th Peaks

I get the feeling someone was watching their Twin Peaks box set when they wrote this sucker.

So, uh, we eventually find our the aliens speak Sumerian and really have no agenda other than abducting people and scaring the shit out of them. Abbey goes through her own gut bustingly funny hypnosis session in the hopes to get her daughter back from the evil Owliens. Abbey air humps off of the couch, unhinges her jaw and starts shouting Sumerian about God and the truth. Be warned, the footage of Abbey going all whacky is screwed up and hardly visible. Which is a shame because it looks highly entertaining. The Fourth Kind has the irritating habit of building up to something really cool and then cutting to the “real” footage which is all messed up and hardly visible. See, at least the Demon in Paranormal Activity knew not to fuck with the tapes! These Owleins are just assholes!

4th Milla probe

Speaking of assholes, the Owliens have some probing to do! Abbey, meet my friend Ben Dover.

By the film’s end there are no answers, which is fine with me, but after two hours there’s no real conclusion either. The film just kind of stops. The scariest thing in the film is the face of the woman who is supposed to be the “real” Abbey Tyler who is interviewed throughout the film. I laughed through this entire movie but anytime the movie cut to the “real” Abbey and quieted down I got scared. Her face is horrifying and I kept waiting in suspense for an Owlien to rip out of her face or something to give us one final jump scare. Alas, she is just creepy looking and that’s all.

4th owl2

"I need to find a better agent."

The Fourth Kind actually resembles something one might create out of scrapped pieces of film found in a dumpster. There are some talented people involved here including character actors Will Patton and Elias Koteas but they are given next to nothing to work with. Koteas plays one of Abbey’s friends and fellow psychologists by the name of Abel Campos. His main purpose in the film is to set up the compact little Sony camcorder, look smug and be skeptical. Patton plays the local Sheriff  who realizes all this Owlien stuff is complete bullshit and Abbey is just totally crazy. I got the feeling the Sheriff is meant to be the villain figure of the piece but I couldn’t help but root for the guy. Abbey is obviously two nuggets short of a Happy Meal and an endangerment to her chilrden and her patients.

4th screenshot1

Some of the "real" footage.

But no amount of supporting cast talent could save this film. It’s just terrible. Maybe if the filmmakers had decided to go with either all filmed footage or fake “real” footage the movie would have been better than trying to fit both into one feature film. The result is muddled, confusing and pretty boring. The Fourth Kind is a film that not only falls short of hitting the bullseye, it flies past the board, off the brick wall and impales itself in the eye of the audience. It’s a vehicle without a map and a completely shit faced driver behind the wheel. It’s inept, stupid, pointless, plotless and has as many redeeming qualities as Spider-Man 3. Seriosuly. It’s that bad.

4th owl

The Eyes of the Owlien.

I cannot recommend The Fourth Kind to anyone but the bravest and most tolerant of us Trash Collectors. I’ve seen more than my share of poorly made Trash Cinema and I can find redeeming qualities in just about all of them. But in the case of The Fourth Kind it simply feels like a cheap, half hearted attempt at making something similar to The Blair Witch Project and we had to endure one of those already this year. I got a few chuckles out of the melodrama and the goofy abduction scenarios but I spent most of the movie looking at Jess and wondering how much longer could they possibly drag this movie out? Will this ever end? Is this real life?

4th o_rly

The Fourth Kind is a failure of the First Order. None of it works, none of it sticks, it’s not mindlessly fun, and it’s not even worthy of being called Trash Cinema. This is just pure cinematic monkey spunk.

Stay Trashy,

-The Primal Root

4th Milla Nude2

Milla Jovovich. Much hotter than The Fourth Kind.





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