I hate when I forget to check my netflix account on the day before new movies get shipped out. Lover of variety that I am, I always try to put a wide, random range of flicks at the top of my queue. Although, as readers of this blog may have deduced, I am partial to horror flicks, I'd rather not watch more than one a week. I gotta have variety. My movie watching eclecticism serves another important purpose, however. Because I tend to watch all three netflix discs in one sitting (because I'm cool like that), I find it easier to remember the specifics of the individual movies if I choose ones that are incredibly distinct from each other. This past week I forgot to check my queue, and unfortunately wound up with three horror pictures.
Additionaly, because I forgot to check in time, I was unable to put at the top of my queue a shitty movie for which to review on my blog. Anyway, long story short, instead of my regular review, I decided to give you brief write-ups of all the movies I saw this week.
The Other (1972)
dir. Robert Mulligan
An impressive adaptation of Tom Tryon's evil child novel (not that I read the book), Robert Mulligan's picture is a masterpiece of tone. Opening in a nostalgia tinged Depression era pastoral setting, The Other pulls the viewer in, ever so gradually, into an eerie world of mysterious deaths, drunken Italians, and creepy kids. An overdone twist in the third act might put off some viewers, but this film still has the power to unnerve.
The Children (2008)
dir. Tom Shankland
I decided to give this movie a viewing after my writing partner said that it made him feel the way he did when he saw The Shining for the first time as a child. I'm not ashamed to admit that I screamed like a little girl numerous times while watching this tense British evil children flick. The Children is a triumph of economy. Rarely does so much substantive character development get crammed into such a short, terrifying horror picture. And once the horror starts, it does not let up. Along with The Descent and Eden Lake this is one of the scariest movies of the past decade.
Drag Me to Hell (2009)
dir. Sam Raimi
It's nice to have you back, Sam Raimi. It's been too long. After a long period of making respectable, critic friendly fare (A Simple Plan), and ungodly amounts of tainted cash (Spider-Man 3), Raimi returned to his horror roots with this fun, brisk ride. Of course, as with his delightfully slapstick Evil Dead movies, horror is not quite the right label for Drag Me to Hell. This movie made me quite nostalgic, not just for Raimi's earlier horror films but also for the slightly funner horror era of the eighties—a time when the likes of Joe Dante, Stuart Gordon, and Dan O'Bannon filled the multi-plexes with impish, unapologetically crowd pleasing horror fare.
Black Dynamite (2009)
dir. Scott Sanders
I love karaoke. Blessed with such heavenly pipes as I am, I've got no other choice than to put them on display. It would be a shame not to allow others the privilege of hearing me lay down some sweet singing. I gotta put my pipes to use as often as possible. Layin' pipe is what I'm all about.
Generally, the karaoke posse that I roll with will get a booth at Sing Sing Karaoke on Saturday afternoons. It is until 7:00, you see, that Sing Sing offers half price singing. The only drawback—no booze. Since no other people are baller enough to show up for some karaoke at four in the afternoon, Sing Sing does not find it behoovie to open the bar this early. Their loss.
Although a little scary at first, mid-afternoon, non-drinking karaoke soon proves just as fun as the late night drinking kind. It's all about the craft, man. (Don't judge me!) This past Friday, however, we decided to change things up a bit and do some regular-ass boozin' enhanced performing. Doing drunk karaoke after a long period of sober singing is a feeling akin to that of banging after a long period of sexual inactivity. Sure, you cum real quick, but damn it feel good (not that I know anything about sexual droughts). Unsurprisingly, I went a little overboard with the drinking that night.
After karaoke, it seemed only natural to the other members of the group that we go out and get our dance on. I was determined, however—determined to watch Black Dynamite. "I am determined to see this movie," I pronounced. "Who's with me?"
"What are you talking about? You're not even gonna remember it."
"Bullshit. It's gonna be awesome."
"We can see it next week. Look, I think-"
"Fuck y'all, I'm going home."
Although, I initially had thoughts of heading home I couldn't resist the call, the call of Black Dynamite; and so I headed to The Angelika—to The Angelika to see Black Dynamite. If only because the subway directly under the theater shakes the building at regular intervals, this is my favorite movie house in the city (and the perfect venue for this particular movie). Drunk and by myself, I took a seat and waited for the awesomeness. [Side note: Have I mentioned how baller I am.] Here is a play-by-play of my viewing experience:
That's a sweet fake Malt Liquor ad (snore) Ah sweet, a Dolemite reference. (snore) Wow, Black Dynamite's in Nam. (snore) Malt liquor is causing impotence? That's funny. I wonder if this has anything to do with the fake ad at the beginning of the mo- (snore) This movie's awesome. (snore) Is that Richard Nixon? Sweet, they're gonna have a nun-chuck fight. That's fucking awe-...uh oh.
After puking outside the theater, it was time for me to go home.