Being a horror buff is like digging for gold. You have to sift through alot of dirt and rocks to find the shiny stuff. You get so conditioned to finding the crap that you begin to believe that there may not actually be any gold.
But when you find it, it's a feeling like no other.
Paranormal Activity, my friends, IS gold. In an age where horror movies SHOULD know better, we still get the mindless, numbing, run-of-the-mill bulls@#t that gives the genre a bad name. But Paranormal Activity is a revelation.
It was filmed in a week, with two actors and one camera.
It runs about an hour and a half.
It has no end credits.
It is the scariest movie I've seen in a long time.
Katie and Micah are a young couple living together in a nice house. From the beginning, you learn that Katie has been haunted by a demon since the age of 8. It seems to follow her wherever she goes. Strange things are starting to happen: footsteps, thumps, objects being moved, etc. Micah is understandibly fascinated with this, so he purchases a camera to document the occurences. And that is the basic framework of the movie.
People, this movie is money. The actors portraying Katie and Micah (which are their actual names) are so understated and real that you immediatly buy into their relationship. They just come across as an actual couple. The hauntings start out small, then increase in intensity.
Remember when just the sound of footsteps could make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up? This movie takes you back to that place. Inside all of us, there is a base fear of the dark and the unseen. So many times during the movie, I would sink in my chair because what was happening seemed so real and unstaged. The tension is there from frame one and only gets more unbearable. Whenever the night scenes started, a row of girls behind me would groan loudly. All you can do is brace yourself, because you have NO CLUE what will happen next. How the filmmakers achieved some of the hauntings is a miracle of simple special effects. It's a testament to the filmmakers that with such a small budget and cast, they were able to create a movie which will definantly be a horror classic. Some of the greatest horror films of all time (Night of the Living Dead, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre) were filmed with hardly any money or budget and...well.......we're still talking about them to this day, aren't we?
Please.
Go see it.
It's amazing.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Acid Park
I grew up in Wilson, NC. I moved there when I was in second grade and went through all the "schools" (elementary, middle, high, hell......even two colleges) while residing there. Those not familiar with it should know, it was a small town. You pretty much knew everyone or had heard some probably false rumor about them, at least. The places to hang out for any teenager consisted of the Winn Dixie parking lot, the Hardees parking lot, a barren spot dubbed "The Hole" out in the middle of f@#king nowhere or the Curb (and that's my solitary shout-out). Sure, you could hang out at various houses, but the above mentioned were the prime spots. Many a night was spent sneaking sips of beer in your car or nonchalantly burning a joint ("What?...........it's a cigarette......") to pass the time.
Every now and then, someone would utter the magic words: "Ya'll wanna go to Acid Park tonight?"
Here is Acid Park in a nutshell (or at least how I heard it; many a Wilsonian will argue their version of it).
Way out towards Elm City, there is a house where a young girl lived. Late one night, while driving drunk, she skidded into the long, winding dirt driveway that led to her house. The momentum of the skid wrapped the car around a tree, killing her instantly. Her father (I never heard about a mother) was so distraught about his daughter's death that he plastered the driveway, house, trees and nearby windmill with bike reflectors so no one would meet a similar fate. At night, when driving down the road, you would crest a hill and there would be a thousand reflectors gleaming back at you. Supposedly, if you were tripping your balls off, it looked kinda cool.
Hence, Acid Park.
I heard stories galore about this place. Supposedly, if you went on a "good" night, the father would be so pissed that he would run out of his house with a shotgun and start shooting at your car. His daughter's vehicle was still wrapped around the tree and you could slowly creep past it and let your imagination run wild. I was definitely curious about all this, but not curious enough to actually offer to drive out there. I mean, c'mon! A shotgun? F@#k that!
The fateful evening came when I was hanging with my friend Ben (BUTTERBEANS!), Jennifer, and Leann. I don't know who uttered the magic words, but before I knew it, we were well on our way to Acid Park. The whole ride there we tried to out-creep each other: Would there be blood on the car? What would the reflectors look like? Would this be a night where Daddy had his gun?
I clearly remember seeing it for the first time. Ben was driving, Leann had shotgun and Jennifer and I were in the back. One minute, we're driving down a dark road in the boonies of Wilson County and we crested the hill and........Hoooooooly S@#t.
Once the car's headlights hit the reflectors, it looked like a mad carnival in the middle of nowhere. The reflectors were everywhere! They spun on the wheel, lined trees, dotted the road. All conversation in the car kinda faltered at that point. We were here whether we liked it or not.
No turning back now.
Ben pulled into the dirt driveway and once the glow of the headlights passed the reflectors, it was immediately dark again. He cut the lights and creeped forward. We looked out of all the windows. I remember sitting in the back left and looking out my window and seeing the girl's car right as Ben said, "Oh s@#t, there's the car!" This was another truth we discovered: there, completely wrapped around a tree, was a rusty, demolished car. Graffiti covered any available space on it by people brave enough to get out of their own car. And that was when Ben killed the car and took out the keys.
"Dude, what the hell are you doing!"
"What?"
We sat there, me too terrified to admit that I was terrified and girls loudly exclaiming how terrified they were. Ben grinned and laughed at us. But all I could think of was looking out my window and possibly seeing a teenage girl standing by the car with dark holes where her eyes once were, beckoning me to come for a closer look. Ben finally started the car back up and we drove on down the long dirt driveway. Now that the scary part was over..........
As the driveway curved around to let you back out on the rode, you drove right past a small house that was plastered with signs: KEEP OUT! NO TRESPASSING! VIOLATORS WILL BE SHOT!
Shot?!
F@#k me, man!
As we (quickly) drove past the house, the porch light cut on. We gunned it out onto the street before we could see anything, but my imagination wants to say I looked back and saw a figure coming out of the house, holding something in his hands.
But that's just my imagination.
I couldn't even tell you what we did after that. That part of my memory has been erased by too much partying and the effects of years passing.
So, that's MY Acid Park experience. Could it have been heightened by my brain filling in gaps? I suppose, but it's how I remember it. I'm sure anyone who grew up in that area has their own Acid Park story, and I'm sure they're a hell of alot more entertaining than mine.
It just goes to show: every small town has it's Urban legend and Acid Park is Wilson's.
The house is still there.
The owner is actually a very cool and nice man.
If you want to go one night and see, I might just go with you.
Every now and then, someone would utter the magic words: "Ya'll wanna go to Acid Park tonight?"
Here is Acid Park in a nutshell (or at least how I heard it; many a Wilsonian will argue their version of it).
Way out towards Elm City, there is a house where a young girl lived. Late one night, while driving drunk, she skidded into the long, winding dirt driveway that led to her house. The momentum of the skid wrapped the car around a tree, killing her instantly. Her father (I never heard about a mother) was so distraught about his daughter's death that he plastered the driveway, house, trees and nearby windmill with bike reflectors so no one would meet a similar fate. At night, when driving down the road, you would crest a hill and there would be a thousand reflectors gleaming back at you. Supposedly, if you were tripping your balls off, it looked kinda cool.
Hence, Acid Park.
I heard stories galore about this place. Supposedly, if you went on a "good" night, the father would be so pissed that he would run out of his house with a shotgun and start shooting at your car. His daughter's vehicle was still wrapped around the tree and you could slowly creep past it and let your imagination run wild. I was definitely curious about all this, but not curious enough to actually offer to drive out there. I mean, c'mon! A shotgun? F@#k that!
The fateful evening came when I was hanging with my friend Ben (BUTTERBEANS!), Jennifer, and Leann. I don't know who uttered the magic words, but before I knew it, we were well on our way to Acid Park. The whole ride there we tried to out-creep each other: Would there be blood on the car? What would the reflectors look like? Would this be a night where Daddy had his gun?
I clearly remember seeing it for the first time. Ben was driving, Leann had shotgun and Jennifer and I were in the back. One minute, we're driving down a dark road in the boonies of Wilson County and we crested the hill and........Hoooooooly S@#t.
Once the car's headlights hit the reflectors, it looked like a mad carnival in the middle of nowhere. The reflectors were everywhere! They spun on the wheel, lined trees, dotted the road. All conversation in the car kinda faltered at that point. We were here whether we liked it or not.
No turning back now.
Ben pulled into the dirt driveway and once the glow of the headlights passed the reflectors, it was immediately dark again. He cut the lights and creeped forward. We looked out of all the windows. I remember sitting in the back left and looking out my window and seeing the girl's car right as Ben said, "Oh s@#t, there's the car!" This was another truth we discovered: there, completely wrapped around a tree, was a rusty, demolished car. Graffiti covered any available space on it by people brave enough to get out of their own car. And that was when Ben killed the car and took out the keys.
"Dude, what the hell are you doing!"
"What?"
We sat there, me too terrified to admit that I was terrified and girls loudly exclaiming how terrified they were. Ben grinned and laughed at us. But all I could think of was looking out my window and possibly seeing a teenage girl standing by the car with dark holes where her eyes once were, beckoning me to come for a closer look. Ben finally started the car back up and we drove on down the long dirt driveway. Now that the scary part was over..........
As the driveway curved around to let you back out on the rode, you drove right past a small house that was plastered with signs: KEEP OUT! NO TRESPASSING! VIOLATORS WILL BE SHOT!
Shot?!
F@#k me, man!
As we (quickly) drove past the house, the porch light cut on. We gunned it out onto the street before we could see anything, but my imagination wants to say I looked back and saw a figure coming out of the house, holding something in his hands.
But that's just my imagination.
I couldn't even tell you what we did after that. That part of my memory has been erased by too much partying and the effects of years passing.
So, that's MY Acid Park experience. Could it have been heightened by my brain filling in gaps? I suppose, but it's how I remember it. I'm sure anyone who grew up in that area has their own Acid Park story, and I'm sure they're a hell of alot more entertaining than mine.
It just goes to show: every small town has it's Urban legend and Acid Park is Wilson's.
The house is still there.
The owner is actually a very cool and nice man.
If you want to go one night and see, I might just go with you.
Kurt
People ask me from time to time if I ever had a celebrity that I "idolized". The only one that really comes to mind is Kurt.
When I was in 6th grade, my parents both worked out of town. That meant that every morning, I had to be dropped off at school at the butt-crack of dawn. My morning ritual was to get ready, go downstairs, cut on MTV (these were the glory days when Music Television actually played...hell, I don't know.....music?) and wait for my parents to come down. One morning, I came downstairs, cut on MTV, and caught the last half of a song I had never heard before. It was loud and the singer was screaming his head off. I stupidly thought it was Alice In Chains. At the end of the video, there was the name: Nirvana. The song was called Smells Like Teen Spirit.
I was blown away.
When I got to school, I asked everyone, "Have you heard of a band called Nirvana?". No one had. Two weeks later, SLTS was at No. 1 and the album Nevermind was also at the top of the charts.
There was something about that gravel in Kurt's singing. His lyrics were often ambiguous and a little weird, so I couldn't really identify with them, but that voice, man..........it summed up every pissed of emotion I had in my stupid little teenage brain. That voice screamed it all out FOR me.
I was hooked.
Anything pertaining to Nirvana, I grabbed instantly. I played Nevermind over and over and over again. I remember the infamous MTV Video Music Awards where Kurt caused the censors to have heart attacks when, before launching into Lithium, he played four bars of a song called Rape Me. And then Kris, the bassist, cut his head open by throwing his bass in the air and it smashed down on this forehead.
I snatched up a copy of Bleach, their debut. It was rougher than Nevermind and sloppy. I loved it. Before Nirvana, I listened to what was on the radio and MTV's top ten. Nirvana showed me that there were thousands of bands not getting airplay who were leagues above the other bands out there.
When In Utero was released, I was there that day to pick it up. I remember sitting in school all day, sneaking glances at the cover and wanting to get home and listen to it. This one even had Rape Me on it. Consequently, THAT CD got played endlessly.
Kurt was my hero. He spoke for me. He screamed for me. He wore dresses to piss off homophobic people for me. He beat the holy hell out of his guitar every performance for me. He was my angst incarnate.
Soon, news broke that Nirvana were doing an episode of MTV's Unplugged. What????
This was a band who was infamous for smashing their instruments to smithereens after every gig. They played sloppy and loud. How were they going to do an acoustic performance?
Well, they did. And it was beautiful.
Stripped of the feedback and the distortion, Kurt's songs resonated. They were haunting and it reminded everyone of why you liked Nirvana in the first place. Kurt was subdued through the whole show and the final song was a cover of Leadbelly's "Where Did You Sleep Last Night?". Singing the whole night and not screaming up till that point, during the last verse, Kurt then let out with that gravely wail. It still sends chills down my spine to this day. I felt I had just witnessed one of the best musical performances ever.
Not long after that, I went to camp. I don't remember much about it. What I do remember is coming home and telling mom about the trip. As my story finished, she suddenly said, "Oh, one of the guys in that band you like died.........". I looked at her, "Who?". "I don't know his name but it was on the news". I went into the den and cut to MTV because if any musician I liked died, then it would be all over that channel. When it came on, I saw Kurt Loder sitting behind the MTV News desk and saying, "Kurt Cobain is dead from an apparently self-inflicted gunshot to the head".
I just sat there.
No.
This is wrong. Kurt's not dead. This can't be real. This has to be a joke.
My one and only hero I've ever had CANNOT be dead.
But he was.
Kurt was gone.
I remember being livid at all the people at school who wore black the next day. They didn't understand. None of those assholes could have appreciated Kurt like I did. They were just posers.
The years went on and the hurt went away. I got into other bands and life moved on. I was stoked when I heard Nirvana's drummer, Dave Grohl, was starting a new band called the Foo Fighters. Sadly, I listened to Nirvana less and less.
The other day, I listened to the Unplugged show and was moved almost to tears. I'm older now than Kurt ever was, but I'll always see him as an old soul. I know he had a huge heroin problem, yeah, we've all heard. I know he left an infant daughter behind when he stuck the shotgun barrel in his mouth and used his toe to pull the trigger.
I don't care.
Everyone has someone they looked up to and my hero was a small, lanky guy from Aberdeen, Washington. A small, lanky guy who played really loud music. A small, lanky guy who embodied all my love, hate, hurt and joy in his warbling, gravelly scream. It's been years now, but as I'm writing this, I can actually feel myself tearing up.
Thanks, Kurt
I miss you, man
When I was in 6th grade, my parents both worked out of town. That meant that every morning, I had to be dropped off at school at the butt-crack of dawn. My morning ritual was to get ready, go downstairs, cut on MTV (these were the glory days when Music Television actually played...hell, I don't know.....music?) and wait for my parents to come down. One morning, I came downstairs, cut on MTV, and caught the last half of a song I had never heard before. It was loud and the singer was screaming his head off. I stupidly thought it was Alice In Chains. At the end of the video, there was the name: Nirvana. The song was called Smells Like Teen Spirit.
I was blown away.
When I got to school, I asked everyone, "Have you heard of a band called Nirvana?". No one had. Two weeks later, SLTS was at No. 1 and the album Nevermind was also at the top of the charts.
There was something about that gravel in Kurt's singing. His lyrics were often ambiguous and a little weird, so I couldn't really identify with them, but that voice, man..........it summed up every pissed of emotion I had in my stupid little teenage brain. That voice screamed it all out FOR me.
I was hooked.
Anything pertaining to Nirvana, I grabbed instantly. I played Nevermind over and over and over again. I remember the infamous MTV Video Music Awards where Kurt caused the censors to have heart attacks when, before launching into Lithium, he played four bars of a song called Rape Me. And then Kris, the bassist, cut his head open by throwing his bass in the air and it smashed down on this forehead.
I snatched up a copy of Bleach, their debut. It was rougher than Nevermind and sloppy. I loved it. Before Nirvana, I listened to what was on the radio and MTV's top ten. Nirvana showed me that there were thousands of bands not getting airplay who were leagues above the other bands out there.
When In Utero was released, I was there that day to pick it up. I remember sitting in school all day, sneaking glances at the cover and wanting to get home and listen to it. This one even had Rape Me on it. Consequently, THAT CD got played endlessly.
Kurt was my hero. He spoke for me. He screamed for me. He wore dresses to piss off homophobic people for me. He beat the holy hell out of his guitar every performance for me. He was my angst incarnate.
Soon, news broke that Nirvana were doing an episode of MTV's Unplugged. What????
This was a band who was infamous for smashing their instruments to smithereens after every gig. They played sloppy and loud. How were they going to do an acoustic performance?
Well, they did. And it was beautiful.
Stripped of the feedback and the distortion, Kurt's songs resonated. They were haunting and it reminded everyone of why you liked Nirvana in the first place. Kurt was subdued through the whole show and the final song was a cover of Leadbelly's "Where Did You Sleep Last Night?". Singing the whole night and not screaming up till that point, during the last verse, Kurt then let out with that gravely wail. It still sends chills down my spine to this day. I felt I had just witnessed one of the best musical performances ever.
Not long after that, I went to camp. I don't remember much about it. What I do remember is coming home and telling mom about the trip. As my story finished, she suddenly said, "Oh, one of the guys in that band you like died.........". I looked at her, "Who?". "I don't know his name but it was on the news". I went into the den and cut to MTV because if any musician I liked died, then it would be all over that channel. When it came on, I saw Kurt Loder sitting behind the MTV News desk and saying, "Kurt Cobain is dead from an apparently self-inflicted gunshot to the head".
I just sat there.
No.
This is wrong. Kurt's not dead. This can't be real. This has to be a joke.
My one and only hero I've ever had CANNOT be dead.
But he was.
Kurt was gone.
I remember being livid at all the people at school who wore black the next day. They didn't understand. None of those assholes could have appreciated Kurt like I did. They were just posers.
The years went on and the hurt went away. I got into other bands and life moved on. I was stoked when I heard Nirvana's drummer, Dave Grohl, was starting a new band called the Foo Fighters. Sadly, I listened to Nirvana less and less.
The other day, I listened to the Unplugged show and was moved almost to tears. I'm older now than Kurt ever was, but I'll always see him as an old soul. I know he had a huge heroin problem, yeah, we've all heard. I know he left an infant daughter behind when he stuck the shotgun barrel in his mouth and used his toe to pull the trigger.
I don't care.
Everyone has someone they looked up to and my hero was a small, lanky guy from Aberdeen, Washington. A small, lanky guy who played really loud music. A small, lanky guy who embodied all my love, hate, hurt and joy in his warbling, gravelly scream. It's been years now, but as I'm writing this, I can actually feel myself tearing up.
Thanks, Kurt
I miss you, man
Monday, October 12, 2009
Your Halloween Must Watch Movie List
These movies will make any Halloween a special, spooky treat (WOW, that sentence was soooo lame).
1. Night of the Living Dead (If you watch this in color, I'll poke your eyes out).
2. An American Werewolf in London (Not Paris, that one is god-awful and is banished to dollar stores)
3. The Lost Boys ("Death by Stereo!")
4. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (the origional, show some respect)
5. The Thing (John Carpenter's remake; its gross and awesome)
6. Halloween (either Carpenter's or Zombie's; both work for me)
7. House of 1,000 Corpses (one of the best Halloween movies ever made)
8. The Devil's Rejects (Sequel to #7; best use of "Freebird".......ever)
9. The Blair Witch Project (Watch it with the lights off....and the sound up)
10. It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown (what?...........no, seriously...what?)
11. Shaun of the Dead ("You've got red on you"; the best horror comedy of all time)
12. Killer Klowns from Outer Space (............I mean, C'MON....just read the title again)
13. The Rocky Horror Picture Show (Tim Curry is God)
14. Them (where The Strangers failed, Them succeeds)
15. Home Movie (creepiest kids ever)
16. 28 Days Later (creepily beautiful.......and really scary)
17. Rec (pure terror for a little over an hour)
18. Audition (a huge syringe, hair-thin needles, and rusty piano wire = masterpiece)
19. Inside ( Technically, it's set on Christmas Eve.............this one's a squirmer)
20. Martyrs (when a horror movie becomes pure cinematic perfection)
21. Let the Right One In (when a horror movie becomes pure cinematic beauty)
and finally.......
22. Trick R Treat (the best Halloween film EVER..........and say hi to Sam)
So, that's my list. I'm sure in your opinion I've left out this or I've left out that. Soooo, why don't you let me know what I've left out. Send me your list of favorite spooky movies. I always like to see what people are into.
Happy watching,
Steven
1. Night of the Living Dead (If you watch this in color, I'll poke your eyes out).
2. An American Werewolf in London (Not Paris, that one is god-awful and is banished to dollar stores)
3. The Lost Boys ("Death by Stereo!")
4. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (the origional, show some respect)
5. The Thing (John Carpenter's remake; its gross and awesome)
6. Halloween (either Carpenter's or Zombie's; both work for me)
7. House of 1,000 Corpses (one of the best Halloween movies ever made)
8. The Devil's Rejects (Sequel to #7; best use of "Freebird".......ever)
9. The Blair Witch Project (Watch it with the lights off....and the sound up)
10. It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown (what?...........no, seriously...what?)
11. Shaun of the Dead ("You've got red on you"; the best horror comedy of all time)
12. Killer Klowns from Outer Space (............I mean, C'MON....just read the title again)
13. The Rocky Horror Picture Show (Tim Curry is God)
14. Them (where The Strangers failed, Them succeeds)
15. Home Movie (creepiest kids ever)
16. 28 Days Later (creepily beautiful.......and really scary)
17. Rec (pure terror for a little over an hour)
18. Audition (a huge syringe, hair-thin needles, and rusty piano wire = masterpiece)
19. Inside ( Technically, it's set on Christmas Eve.............this one's a squirmer)
20. Martyrs (when a horror movie becomes pure cinematic perfection)
21. Let the Right One In (when a horror movie becomes pure cinematic beauty)
and finally.......
22. Trick R Treat (the best Halloween film EVER..........and say hi to Sam)
So, that's my list. I'm sure in your opinion I've left out this or I've left out that. Soooo, why don't you let me know what I've left out. Send me your list of favorite spooky movies. I always like to see what people are into.
Happy watching,
Steven
Oh, The Horror!!!
I recently had someone ask me the million dollar question, "Why do you like horror so much?".
Hot damn! How do I even start?
When I was a kid, I was fascinated (and I MEAN fascinated) with the Loch Ness Monster. For some reason, Nessie appealed to my tiny adolescent brain. I even started a "Loch Ness Monster Club" at my daycare. The only thing that guaranteed you entrance in this exclusive group was to answer a question about Nessie correctly. If you couldn't, you were automatically deemed a stupid doo-doo head and forever banished to the sandbox. The love for the Scottish beastie branched off into interest in Bigfoot, the Bermuda Triangle, the Devil's Tramping Ground, you name it! I couldn't get enough.
The real fascination with horror came later, when I started engrossing myself in novels. In doing that, I met a man............named Stephen King.
When I was in 5th grade, I had this thing about reading movie novelizations. I read the books for Terminator 2 all the way to Gremlins 2. One day, I visited a bookstore and noticed a book called Pet Semetary. I had seen the previews on TV and the book had a little sticker, "Soon to be a Major Motion Picture". I was curious. It looked kinda spooky.
Needless to say, I plowed through that book. I had never read anything so terrifying, so vivid, so......GASP.....adult! I remeber being home from school one day, both parents at work, when I finished the book. You know, where Gage comes back from the dead and terrozies his family and a poor old man named Judd?
Scared.....the......s@#t......outta me.
I calmly closed the book, sat it down, and decided then and there that I was not moving from that spot until my parents got home.
But I was hooked.
A book had never actually SCARED me before that. The rush of feeling the hairs stand up on the back of my neck and eyeing the closet door gave me a feeling like no other. I needed that feeling again. I then developed a ravenous appetite for King's books. Any I could find, I immediatly read. The Shining, Christine, Cujo, the list goes on and on. In all these books, I found moments where I was purely frightened. I LOVED it and to this day, King is my warhorse author. Any new book of his that comes out, I gladly look forward to. Some are hits and others are misses, but I love the experience just the same.
When I was a kid, my dad would take me to the local video store to rent movies. One major rule was that little Steven could not, WOULD not walk past the horror section. The covers for those early-mid 80s movies were HORRIFYING! I clearly remember seeing the cover for Creepshow (which incidently included a Stephen King story and the man himself has a role in it) with it's leering skeleton covered in rags and cobwebs. In the those days, the covers for horror movies were often a hell of alot more scary than the actual movies.
It wasn't until 2001 that I really started getting into horror movies. Loved to read it, but was a late bloomer in watching it. I read an article about Asian horror movies. They kept dropping the names Ringu, Ju-on, Audition..........I was intrigued.
I moved to Greensboro and discovered College Hill Video (sadly, it is no more), where you could purchase VHS copies of foreign films. The first time I walked in, I about fainted. Here they all were, along with hundreds of other freaky-looking flicks. I bought the 3 mentioned above.
Once again, I was hooked.
I developed a taste for foreign horror. They were immensly more frightening than American horror movies (formula: credits, BOO!, teenagers, BOO!, scary crazy killer guy, BOO!, titties, BOO!, the end.........just kidding BOO!)
These Asian flicks actually took their time. They weren't concerned with all the BOOs. Sure, they had them, but they mainly established a creepy vibe that just steadily gets more and more intense until you can't take it.
The Asian films then branched off into other countries.
France......oh my God........they are the masters of horror right now. The nail-biting Them, the blood bath of Inside and, most recently, the genius of the revolutionary Martyrs. They know what they're doing and it shows.
But we as Americans couldn't sit still for long. The Spanish gave us the great REC. We f@#ked it up and called it Quarentine. Sweden gave us the beautiful Let the Right One In. We're making Let me In.
Sigh.
Don't get me wrong.....America has it's horror greats obviously (Romero, Carpenter, Raimi, etc.) Rob Zombie has proven himself to be a modern horror master. And the brilliant Trick R Treat has entered the canon of best Halloween movie ever.
Most people hate horror. Or they like it, but they like the s@#t that's just NOT scary. But, hey! Who am I to judge? What scares me may not scare you and vice versa. My love for horror is because it thrills me. I get a rush out of being purely scared or even mildly creeped out. It's my thing. Its why I get more excited about Halloween than I do Christmas. Things that go bump in the night will always intrigue me.
The end
Just kidding BOO!
Hot damn! How do I even start?
When I was a kid, I was fascinated (and I MEAN fascinated) with the Loch Ness Monster. For some reason, Nessie appealed to my tiny adolescent brain. I even started a "Loch Ness Monster Club" at my daycare. The only thing that guaranteed you entrance in this exclusive group was to answer a question about Nessie correctly. If you couldn't, you were automatically deemed a stupid doo-doo head and forever banished to the sandbox. The love for the Scottish beastie branched off into interest in Bigfoot, the Bermuda Triangle, the Devil's Tramping Ground, you name it! I couldn't get enough.
The real fascination with horror came later, when I started engrossing myself in novels. In doing that, I met a man............named Stephen King.
When I was in 5th grade, I had this thing about reading movie novelizations. I read the books for Terminator 2 all the way to Gremlins 2. One day, I visited a bookstore and noticed a book called Pet Semetary. I had seen the previews on TV and the book had a little sticker, "Soon to be a Major Motion Picture". I was curious. It looked kinda spooky.
Needless to say, I plowed through that book. I had never read anything so terrifying, so vivid, so......GASP.....adult! I remeber being home from school one day, both parents at work, when I finished the book. You know, where Gage comes back from the dead and terrozies his family and a poor old man named Judd?
Scared.....the......s@#t......outta me.
I calmly closed the book, sat it down, and decided then and there that I was not moving from that spot until my parents got home.
But I was hooked.
A book had never actually SCARED me before that. The rush of feeling the hairs stand up on the back of my neck and eyeing the closet door gave me a feeling like no other. I needed that feeling again. I then developed a ravenous appetite for King's books. Any I could find, I immediatly read. The Shining, Christine, Cujo, the list goes on and on. In all these books, I found moments where I was purely frightened. I LOVED it and to this day, King is my warhorse author. Any new book of his that comes out, I gladly look forward to. Some are hits and others are misses, but I love the experience just the same.
When I was a kid, my dad would take me to the local video store to rent movies. One major rule was that little Steven could not, WOULD not walk past the horror section. The covers for those early-mid 80s movies were HORRIFYING! I clearly remember seeing the cover for Creepshow (which incidently included a Stephen King story and the man himself has a role in it) with it's leering skeleton covered in rags and cobwebs. In the those days, the covers for horror movies were often a hell of alot more scary than the actual movies.
It wasn't until 2001 that I really started getting into horror movies. Loved to read it, but was a late bloomer in watching it. I read an article about Asian horror movies. They kept dropping the names Ringu, Ju-on, Audition..........I was intrigued.
I moved to Greensboro and discovered College Hill Video (sadly, it is no more), where you could purchase VHS copies of foreign films. The first time I walked in, I about fainted. Here they all were, along with hundreds of other freaky-looking flicks. I bought the 3 mentioned above.
Once again, I was hooked.
I developed a taste for foreign horror. They were immensly more frightening than American horror movies (formula: credits, BOO!, teenagers, BOO!, scary crazy killer guy, BOO!, titties, BOO!, the end.........just kidding BOO!)
These Asian flicks actually took their time. They weren't concerned with all the BOOs. Sure, they had them, but they mainly established a creepy vibe that just steadily gets more and more intense until you can't take it.
The Asian films then branched off into other countries.
France......oh my God........they are the masters of horror right now. The nail-biting Them, the blood bath of Inside and, most recently, the genius of the revolutionary Martyrs. They know what they're doing and it shows.
But we as Americans couldn't sit still for long. The Spanish gave us the great REC. We f@#ked it up and called it Quarentine. Sweden gave us the beautiful Let the Right One In. We're making Let me In.
Sigh.
Don't get me wrong.....America has it's horror greats obviously (Romero, Carpenter, Raimi, etc.) Rob Zombie has proven himself to be a modern horror master. And the brilliant Trick R Treat has entered the canon of best Halloween movie ever.
Most people hate horror. Or they like it, but they like the s@#t that's just NOT scary. But, hey! Who am I to judge? What scares me may not scare you and vice versa. My love for horror is because it thrills me. I get a rush out of being purely scared or even mildly creeped out. It's my thing. Its why I get more excited about Halloween than I do Christmas. Things that go bump in the night will always intrigue me.
The end
Just kidding BOO!
Why I'm A Movie Guy
Let me just start this off by saying, I love movies. Always have, always will. Now, that's not to say that I LOVE every movie I see, it just means I'd rather watch movies than do just about anything. This doesn't stem from any sort of laziness or lack of caring. This is something that has affected me since I was a small child.
When I was growing up, I sucked at sports. Never could quite get my coordination down. I didn't understand football, baseball bored me, and soccor was always just really.....HOT. I would stand in the field, sweating my ass off and wondering if the ball was ever going to come my way. T-Ball wasn't much better (you want me to hit a ball off a stick?), but I participated because my parents wanted me involved in SOMETHING. But on certain weekends, I would visit my one true love.........the movie theater.
I've never really lost that feeling of anticipation when walking into the theater lobby. The smell of popcorn so overpowering you almost get a butter buzz. The gigantic posters advertising movies that would grace the theater in the near future. The sound of the arcade bleeping and blooping over in the corner. I have a vivid memory of my mother taking me to see The Goonies and, while she paid for the tickets, I stood in front of the poster and tried to imagine how awesome this was going to be (and it was, my friends). But nothing could compare to walking into the actual theater itself. The enormous screen just sitting there waiting to light up. The sound of your feet making that band-aid ripping sound when you walked on the sticky floor. The glowing lights leading down the aisles. And the joy of playing the "Where should be sit?" game. "The front? The middle? The back? Let's just sit here."
When the lights darkened and the green screen came up, telling you that this preview is suitable for all ages, I felt this burst of joy. IT'S STARTING!!!!! Before the Internet, you really had no clue what new movies were on the horizon (OH MY GOD! THEY'RE MAKING A BATMAN MOVIE?!?) and each new preview gave you another excuse to come back to the theater (WE TOTALLY HAVE TO SEE THIS BATMAN MOVIE!). Then the movie would start, and for the next two hours, I was taken to another world, another time, another place. I rode on the back of the Terminator's motorcycle while a liquid-metal dude chased us. I visited Jurassic Park and went numb when the T-Rex finally made his synapse-bursting appearance. I watched Kevin Costner shoot a flaming arrow at my face. I watched aliens blow up the White House. I ran alongside Helen Hunt as an F5 tornado picked up a house, a tractor and God knows what else around her ( buy strangely never picked HER up). Sometimes, the movie just plain sucked (Remember Spaced Invaders? Don't worry, no one does), but the experience was still worth it. I would findy any excuse to go to the movies. My friends would tire of my repeated requests to go see something that weekend.
As I've grown older, I don't visit the theater as much. With age comes awareness and limited funds. And the invention of the mother-f@#king cell phone. Now, the crowds talk throughout entire movies. They answer their phones ("Hello? Naw man, it's cool.....I'm just in a movie...."). The experience sometimes makes me bitter and angry.
But the kid in me is still there.
I walk into the lobby now and get a kernel of excitement in my belly. I look up at the gigantic posters and smile. I get my butter buzz. And, if the movie turns out to be good, I leave with a feeling of pure elation. So, 30 years from now, when you go to the movies, look for the older gentleman staring up at the screen with a child-like grin, popcorn ready and knee bouncing. He's REALLY looking forward to this.
And if you answer you cell phone, he'll punch you in the f@#king face...................
When I was growing up, I sucked at sports. Never could quite get my coordination down. I didn't understand football, baseball bored me, and soccor was always just really.....HOT. I would stand in the field, sweating my ass off and wondering if the ball was ever going to come my way. T-Ball wasn't much better (you want me to hit a ball off a stick?), but I participated because my parents wanted me involved in SOMETHING. But on certain weekends, I would visit my one true love.........the movie theater.
I've never really lost that feeling of anticipation when walking into the theater lobby. The smell of popcorn so overpowering you almost get a butter buzz. The gigantic posters advertising movies that would grace the theater in the near future. The sound of the arcade bleeping and blooping over in the corner. I have a vivid memory of my mother taking me to see The Goonies and, while she paid for the tickets, I stood in front of the poster and tried to imagine how awesome this was going to be (and it was, my friends). But nothing could compare to walking into the actual theater itself. The enormous screen just sitting there waiting to light up. The sound of your feet making that band-aid ripping sound when you walked on the sticky floor. The glowing lights leading down the aisles. And the joy of playing the "Where should be sit?" game. "The front? The middle? The back? Let's just sit here."
When the lights darkened and the green screen came up, telling you that this preview is suitable for all ages, I felt this burst of joy. IT'S STARTING!!!!! Before the Internet, you really had no clue what new movies were on the horizon (OH MY GOD! THEY'RE MAKING A BATMAN MOVIE?!?) and each new preview gave you another excuse to come back to the theater (WE TOTALLY HAVE TO SEE THIS BATMAN MOVIE!). Then the movie would start, and for the next two hours, I was taken to another world, another time, another place. I rode on the back of the Terminator's motorcycle while a liquid-metal dude chased us. I visited Jurassic Park and went numb when the T-Rex finally made his synapse-bursting appearance. I watched Kevin Costner shoot a flaming arrow at my face. I watched aliens blow up the White House. I ran alongside Helen Hunt as an F5 tornado picked up a house, a tractor and God knows what else around her ( buy strangely never picked HER up). Sometimes, the movie just plain sucked (Remember Spaced Invaders? Don't worry, no one does), but the experience was still worth it. I would findy any excuse to go to the movies. My friends would tire of my repeated requests to go see something that weekend.
As I've grown older, I don't visit the theater as much. With age comes awareness and limited funds. And the invention of the mother-f@#king cell phone. Now, the crowds talk throughout entire movies. They answer their phones ("Hello? Naw man, it's cool.....I'm just in a movie...."). The experience sometimes makes me bitter and angry.
But the kid in me is still there.
I walk into the lobby now and get a kernel of excitement in my belly. I look up at the gigantic posters and smile. I get my butter buzz. And, if the movie turns out to be good, I leave with a feeling of pure elation. So, 30 years from now, when you go to the movies, look for the older gentleman staring up at the screen with a child-like grin, popcorn ready and knee bouncing. He's REALLY looking forward to this.
And if you answer you cell phone, he'll punch you in the f@#king face...................
Friday, October 9, 2009
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