What I learned from Ghoulies II - classically-trained dwarf actors ROCK!

The original Ghoulies film is one of those movies that almost everyone has heard of, yet somehow no one has seen.  Of that minute percentage who actually HAVE taken the plunge and seen the first flick, the number is even more minute who have seen any of the sequels.  Well, call me a glutton for punishment, because I'm about to embark on this Homeric journey.

Ghoulies II was released in 1988, three years after the first film and after a whole lot of rethinking and retooling of the premise.  The original was much more of a Satanism/black magic/witchcraft horror film than a "little demons attacking people" movie, and I'm betting that a lot of people walked out of the theaters in 1985 feeling more than a little gypped that the Gremlins ripoff that they just paid five dollars to see hardly even featured any stop-motion puppet killing action.  Well, fear not, citizens - this is the movie where the Ghoulies series effectively becomes all about the creatures.  Never say that Charles Band doesn't give the audience what they want.

And yep, Band is back as the executive producer of this film, swept in just before he opened up Full Moon Features and introduced the world to a very different sort of tiny homicidal threats with Puppet Master.  As I understand it, this was actually one of the very last projects done for Empire Pictures, and I'm not entirely sure that this movie and that incident are mutually exclusive.  Interestingly enough, it's Albert Band, Charles' honest-to-christ FATHER, who handles the directing duties this time, and much like pretty much every Full Moon Feature, the movie has a decidedly low budget but makes the most of its limited resources.  Michael Bays and Steven Summers of the world take note - you CAN make a good-looking film without $150 million freakin' dollars.

THE MOVIE!!

From what I can gather, this movie takes place a short time after the first, as the creatures that escaped from the Graves household/Satanic stronghold are still on the loose.  The flick quickly introduces us to our two main hero characters - Larry (Damon Martin) and his uncle, Ned (Royal Dano).  They run a haunted house at a traveling carnival, and are driving a gigantic truck (with a pretty nifty-looking "Satan's Den" sign on the side) toward the next carnival.  Through some miraculous incident that's full of Dark Knight-style coincidences, wouldn't ya know that the Ghoulies wind up stowing away in their truck.

There's five of 'em this time.  I'm not going to describe them quite yet, but rest assured, they have characteristics that make them endlessly amusing (and at times annoying) to watch.  Just to partially sate you - because I'm sure you're all hanging on every word of this review - one of them is a freaky-looking flying squirrel-Ghoulie hybrid that emits noises like that little rat thing that hangs around Jabba the Hutt.  Yes, really.

Back at the carnival, we meet our secondary hero character, and this guy is really the movie's ace in the hole.  His name is Sir Nigel Penneyweight, and he's played by Phil Fondacaro, a dwarf who has a pretty damn impressive filmography.  He is the assistant of sorts at Satan's Den, whose job is to utilize his acting chops to scare the crap out of the customers.  His intricate plan?  Running around while dressed up like a gorilla.  He also constantly quotes Shakespeare and talks up his thespian past.  All things told, he's the most likable guy in the movie, and Fondacaro steals the show.

What other vital plot points do I need to talk about?  Oh yeah - our HUMAN villain character.  It seems as if a lot of the attractions at the carnival have been losing money, and Philip Hardin - the son of the guy who owns the carnival - has been dispatched to lay the gauntlet and tell everyone that any attraction that isn't turning ap rofit will be shut down.  And you should know where this is going - Satan's Den hasn't been making a profit for 16 months, as Hardin (played with plenty of douchebaggy zeal by J. Downing - and yes, folks, that is his name on IMDB), and they have until the end of the weekend to turn business around.

Immediately after this, we get our first kill - some nameless blonde who served as this flick's PG-13 "slut" character.  Since we don't even get the requisite nude scene from her, it's not worth recapping, although her primary attacker is the dude shown above - commonly known by fans (this series has fans?) as the "Toad" Ghoulie.  The action smash cuts to Ned, now drunk and performing some of his old-school magic tricks.  The Ghoulies show up, and the crusty old geezer becomes convinced that he's managed to perform "real" magic and call up demons.  I've got to say that Dano is also pretty damn likable in this movie - he's got kind of an M. Emmet Walsh vibe.  I can't say the same for Damon Martin.  He tries and everything, and maybe it's because he's got a nice old man and a dwarf surrounding him, but the dude is just very forgettable.  Sorry, Damon.

We get an...unforgettable sequence inside Satan's Den, as two bastard kids and a group of cool '80s rebels go inside to explore.  It's also worth noting that the group of teens consists of two perfectly happy hot couples...and Bill Butler!  Bill is a personal favorite of mine, having appeared in Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood and Texas Chain Saw Massacre III, and as one of the select few group of humans who can recognize this guy from sight, I can report that he owns every role he's in.  Since he is our resident dork character, he makes our next victim, as the Ghoulies stretch him out on a torture rack and slice him in two with a guillotine.

This section of the movie also shows us the power of the "Rat" ghoulie - a creature who kinda-sorta looks like Splinter and vomits adhesive green glop on people.  To demonstrate this, just before Butler eats it, he covers one of the happier couples in the slime, causing them to become eternally stuck with their mouths intertwined and with the guy groping the girl's tits.  Yup. 

From here, we get one of the most wonderful scenes in movie history.  People begin flocking to Satan's Den after hearing about the Ghoulies from the bastard kids, and they are treated to some show once inside.  They catch the Ghoulies in the act of mummifying Bill Butler (and man, just typing those words made me all kinds of giddy), then begin chanting "Rats!" at the Ghoulies in an attempt to get them to...I don't know what.  Just to oblige the crowd, two of the creatures - "Rat" Ghoulie and the de facto leader of the group whom I'll refer to as "Mogwai" Ghoulie - slap hands, causing the denizens to erupt in cheers.  It's way more glorious than it sounds, believe me.

It's here where the string of amazingness comes to an end, as old man Ned gets offed in an extended (read: never-ending) scene where he realizes the error of his ways and attempts to conjure up some kind of demon-eliminating spell.  I've got to say that this move was a bit of a surprise; Ned was a pretty likable character, and normally, in horror movies, the crusty old guy is safe.  Oh, well. 

Well, this causes Larry to go into all sorts of depression - for all of a minute.  The next morning, he has a conversation with an until-this-point completely inconsequential character named Nicole, whom Phil Hardin had been attempting to woo earlier in the film.  Nicole, played by Kerry Remsen, is one of the carnival's belly dancers, and we get our movie's two-minute romance subplot as she relates this tragic past story about how she used to be a tightrope walker and saw her brother die in a horrific accident.  Or something.  It ends with Larry shoving his tongue down Nicole's throat, so mission accomplished.  From this point forward, Nicole is heavily featured, so get used to her and her sterling acting skills (/sarcasm) from this point forward.

Inside Satan's Den (I never get tired of typing that), Sir Nigel sees the Ghoulies firsthand, and eventually so does Larry.  This does nothing to persuade Phil, already stricken with greed over the spook house's newfound success, as the attraction remains open.  There's this whole fascinating bit where the Ghoulies attempt to slice another park-goer in half before they are stopped by the carnival's Strongman and Rajah-fortune teller guy.  It's here where Hardin fully embraces being the all-out dick that you suspected he was at the beginning, sensing the money to be made from these creatures and offering a thousand bucks for anyone who brings him one of the Ghoulies alive.

And, the Ghoulies have escaped from Satan's Den, which means that this movie has officially entered its "s**t hits the fan" stage.  The Ghoulies wreak havoc on the carnival, causing a bunch of accidents and even a couple random explosions.  Not one of the better s**t hitting the fan sequences I've seen, but it gets the job done.

With that, it's time for Hardin to get his comeuppance.  He goes through some kind of metaphysical transformation first, realizing the pain and destruction that his greed has caused in a metamorphosis that would make any screenwriter piss himself.  However, amidst all the chaos, amazingly, he doesn't forget that nature is calling.  He retreats to one of the carnival's bathrooms, and...yeah.

Karma's a bitch, ain't it, Phil?

I'm going to play like Vince Russo and break kayfabe here - it's Saturday morning as I'm typing this, and my weekly Saturday morning headache is starting to get unbearable, so let's wrap this up quickly.  Our remaining heroes - Larry, Nicole, and Nigel - attempt to stop the Ghoulies, but nothing seems to work.  Nigel hits upon the idea to "fight fire with fire" and use magic.  Lo and behold, it works, as a massive, behemoth-ified version of the green "hobgoblin" Ghoulie pops forth from the dirt and promptly eats all of the other Ghoulies. 

Only, now our heroes are left with this big beast to contend with.  Thinking quickly, they hide a stick of dynamite inside Nigel's gorilla suit and toss it to the big lug.  And he eats it.  And he explodes. 

The day after (or something resembling it), Larry and Nicole head out on the open road, already madly in love after their two-hour courtship, and Larry leaves the spook house in the hands of Nigel.  All things told, another mega-happy ending...at least until the camera pans over to the men's bathroom, and we hear the familiar giggly laughter.  Yup - the miniature "hobgoblin" toilet Ghoulie is still alive.  The screen fades to black...and we are then treated to an unexpected bonus in the form of the admittedly awesome song "Scream Until You Like It" by W.A.S.P. as the end credits tick by.

What more do you really need to know about this movie?  Do you really need me to pass judgment on it?  Well, let's see what else I can conjure up.  The tone for this sequel is VERY different from what the original movie gave is - in addition to the vastly different villain cast, it's also a lot more lighthearted in nature.  In my humble opinion - it was the right move.  The comedy in this movie may not be laugh-out-loud funny, but it's amusing most of the time.  The "rats!" bit alone is worth whatever it costs to buy a used DVD copy of this film.  I paid $2.98.  It's well worth that. 

More than anything else, Phil Fondacaro is a riot in this movie as SIR (capitalized because he corrects any and everyone who calls him MISTER repeatedly in this film) Nigel.  In a movie where more than a few people phone it in, Fondacaro invests as much heart, soul and spirit as his diminuitive frame can muster, and it shows.  Every time he's on screen, Ghoulies II becomes a better movie.  You've got to hand it to any movie that can make a Shakespeare-quoting, somewhat pretentious dwarf its most likable character, but that's what we get, and Nigel makes some hero.

What else am I missing?  Oh yeah - the fact that this movie features creature effects from John Carl Buechler, a pretty well-known makeup/FX guru in the horror field.  He is the man responsible for the makeup on movies like Nightmare on Elm Street 4 and Prison as well as the director of Friday the 13th Part VII (and I've got to hand it to the guy for remembering Bill Butler when casting that film).  He's not quite Tom Savini, but he's pretty damn good - any time you see his name in the credits, get ready for some awesome hand-made creature effects.  It's a shame that this movie was rated PG-13; I would have loved to have seen a bit more red stuff flying around with Buechler behind the scenes.

That should about wrap it up.  If you liked the first Ghoulies...eh, you might not like this one, since they're almost unrecognizable as far as being from the same series.  But hell, I liked it.  That should be enough.

*** 1/2 out of ****.  Highly recommended for my fellow horror fans.

Ghoulies - the adventures of a man and his quest for puppet creature domination

In the great pantheon of movies that lined the shelves at my often-mentioned and no doubt mysterious Greatest Video Store Ever, one of the ones that really sticks out in my head is Ghoulies.  While the Lick Ness Monster saw a ton of old-school and schlocky horror movies as a kid, for some reason, just the sight of this video box sent me running away screaming.  Giving this one a watch wasn't even an option.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that the mental image of a green, goofy-looking demon popping out of my toilet is one of my hidden phobias.

At any rate, it's been a LONG time since I've seen this one.  I eventually did see it sometime around 1992 on TBS and remember virtually nothing about it.  Even worse, since Wikipedia really sucks when it comes to the Ghoulies series and has virtually no notable information about it, I'm going to have to wing it with my own cutting journalistic integrity.  From what I can gather, this flick is a bit of a pre-Full Moon Productions project from no less than Charles Band himself, back when he ran a company called Empire Pictures.  Mr. Band was even set to direct the movie until passing on the honors to Luca Bercovici, a dude who has actually appeared as an actor in things ranging from Frightmare to the Wesley Snipes vehicle Drop Zone.  All things considered, he does a decent enough job doing the thing that I most admire - handling a $5.99 budget and a shoestring cast and making something reasonably resembling a film.  With that, THE MOVIE!!

The flick starts off on what's admittedly a pretty creepy note.  The dude you see in the above picture is running a patented Horror Movie Satanic Ritual, complete with the ever-popular downward-pointing Pentagram of Doom behind his pulpit.  He is all ready to sacrifice a baby until the mother stops him, at which point the guy goes into a fit of rage and informs the GOOD satanist that "YOU WILL TAKE HIS PLACE!"  All things told, a 17-star opening.

After the opening credits (which has some very mirthful and Pupper Master style music), a helpful narrator informs us that the baby was actually Satanic Master's SON.  Wow.  Brutal.  At any rate, that very baby is now all grown up and has just inherited dear ol' dad's secluded house.  His name is Jonathan Graves, and he's played by Peter Liapis.  Having seen this guy in a few other films and TV projects, I can report that Liapis is actually a pretty damn charismatic actor, able to pull off over-the-top stuff and everyman relatability with equal ease.  He's kind of like Christian Bale, if Christian Bale actually had talent.  I can't say the same for Lisa Pelikan, who plays "Rebecca," his girlfriend in this movie who makes the move into the house of death with him.  You've seen more raw emotion from Jessica Alba on sedatives. 

What this scene accomplishes is twofold: (1) it establishes that Jonathan's freakin' FATHER is actually buried on the premises in a fenced-in and very poorly disguised grave, and (2) introduces us to Wolfgang, the caretaker of the property who essentially served as Jonathan's de facto father growing up.  Since the Law of Economy of Characters clearly states that screenwriters generally do not introduce new characters into films for no apparent reason, we can reasonably guess that this guy will play some role later.  Oh yeah, spoiler alert.  Once inside the house, Jonathan promptly finds his dad's old ceremonial garb and book of incantations, at which point his poodle-haired girlfriend tells him that it's time to throw a party with all of their rockin' college friends.

After some classic '80s movie party scenes (including a legendary break-dancing routine by one of the party guests who kinda-sorta looks like Kiefer Sutherland), Jonathan (above left, along with his ever-supportive girlfriend) decides that the best party game would be to do one of the rituals from his mysterious book.  Seems like a sound enough plan to me.  He performs it - in a deep, profundo, overly theatrical voice, no less - and while it doesn't happen immediately, it works.  Soon enough, two miniature creatures appear from the nothingness in a special effect that must be seen to be believed.

From this point on, Jonathan undergoes a kind of sinister transformation.  He withdraws from school under the premise of "fixing up the house," and while he does that by day, by night, he begins practicing more of DAT BLACK MAGIC.  His first motions as Newfound Satanic Leader?  Calling forth a group of the ghoulies (finally) and creating a rain storm completely centralized within his basement.  Why?  Just because he can.  It should also be pointed out that when he performs these magic spells, his eyes occasionally flash green.  Because nothing says evil like snakey green eyes. 

In the midst of that second spell (the rainstorm), Rebecca catches him wearing his official ceremonial robe and brandishing a large spear and freaks out on him, causing Jonathan to promise to cut it the hell out with his devil worship.  And he seems oh-so-sincere.  This lasts all of five minutes of screen time, as Jonathan (along with one his Ghoulie pals) attempts to entrance Rebecca during sex, causing her to walk out on him for good. 

Well, this makes our beloved hero/villain go batshit criz-azy, as he uses his magical abilities to summon two imps named Grizzle and Greedigut.  I should also point out that Grizzle and Greedigut aren't puppet creatures like the rest of Jonathan's helpers, and instead are played by two honest-to-christ little people (Peter Risch and Tamara de Treaux, for those who absolutely, positively need this information) who put more heart and soul into their performances than anyone in the movie besides Liapis.  This movie has to be seen to be believed.  Anyway, he utilizes the imps to re-summon Rebecca to the house and take control of her mind and spirit (or something), and then begins setting up Act Three of the film - the legendary Satanic movie ritual, which in typical Satanic movie ritual fashion is ridiculously complicated, requiring seven people to work and to be performed during a full moon.  So you know what this means - yup, another '80s party, although this one isn't quite rockin'.

Have I mentioned before that this movie has given us sporadic narrative updates from the same guy who told us about Jonathan and his dad at the beginning of the film?  Well, we have.  Rest assurred, it's going somewhere.  At the dinner party, Jonathan takes command of his friends by yelling at the sky and causing the screen to flash white.  Remember how I said the ghoulies being conjured was the special effect to end all special effects?  I think that this may be the new champion.  The ritual takes place (with all of the secondary characters now donned in white robes, no less), and we get our payoff, as Jonathan's daddy RISES FROM THE GRAVE!

Coolness.  Turns out that this guy was really controlling his son's actions this whole time to facilitate his own return.  From here, the movie becomes a sped-up slahser flick, as the various party guests pair off and get laid while  a combination of Malcolm Graves (that would be Jonathan's dad) and the various critters roaming about the premises begin mowing them down.  The best death in this sequence is definitely Malcolm, posing as a hot blonde, choking the movie's resident womanizer to death utilizing his three-foot monster tongue in a sequence that no doubt inspired that awesome nurse scene in Nightmare on Elm Street 3.  This movie is picking up in a big way.

All of the secondary characters get killed off, leaving us with the Luke-Darth Vader confrontation between Jonathan and Malcolm.  We get our explanation for Malcolm's actions, as he explains that the ritual is about gaining the youth of his son.  In one of the most incestually homoerotic scenes in movie history, Malcolm attempts to drain his son's life by kissing him on the lips.  Yes, really.  All appears lost, until we are given a new savior.  The man, the myth...the caretaker.

Yup, the dude who had been invisible since the beginning of the movie is in actuality some kind of all-powerful sorcerer, and he's here to save the day.  In a battle very heavy on animated lightning bolts, he is able to overcome Malcolm and end this threat once and for all.  Not only that, Malcolm's death brings all of Jonathan and Rebecca's moronic college friends back to life, leaving us not only with the happy ending...but the mega happy ending.  The fact that some of the ghoulies stowed away in Jonathan's getaway car (along with Rebecca and Kiefer Sutherland guy) doesn't seem to diminish the sunniness too much...it's portrayed more comedically than anything else.  Eh, as someone who is used to modern horror movies with their M. Night Shyamalanadingdong nonsensical twist endings, this was a welcome change.

You know, reading through the above recap, you've probably noticed that there is only one picture of the titular Ghoulies contained in the every-few-paragraph visual aids.  That's not an accident.  For a movie called Ghoulies, they are basically there as window dressing.  Grizzle and Greedigut actually play the biggest role out of all the creatures Jonathan conjures up, going through a kind of babyface turn by the end of the movie and assisting Jonathan in his battle for the ages with his father.  The obvious answer is that this movie was released in 1985, a mere year after Gizmo and Stripe dominated the box office, and that Charles Band did his best to sneak in "hey, this is just like Gremlins" into his black magic movie.  Seems accurate enough to me.

That little caveat aside, this movie was actually a damn fun time.  I'm a big sucker for religious-themed horror movies in general, especially ones that don't take a big shift in tone midway through (not looking at you at all, The Reaping), and Ghoulies was good and gloriously ridiculous for its entire running time.  It's goofy, it's dumb, and it's woefully short on special effects quality and Shakespearian-esque dialogue, but that's just the way I like it.  I'll REMEMBER this movie.  There are movies with $150 million budgets every summer that I walk out of that I can't remember a single detail of two days later.

Of course, that is to be expected from a film produced by Charles Band.  He was renowned for this sort of thing - taking horror and fantasy scripts, producing them on the cheap, and adding a whole heap o' camp value.  After founding Full Moon Pictures a few years after this movie was released, he made this style of film-making into a virtual factory that cranked out scores of these types of films, and if you want to see this maverick/direct-to-video horror master in his formative stages, look no further.  This movie is full of that patented Charles Band charm.

Finally, Peter Liapis is just aces in this movie.  He hams it up when he has to, and pulls off the more restrained scenes very well.  Knowing that he has a role in the final movie in this series, I'm looking forward to shooting through the rest of the Ghoulies series...but I'm told that I have two movies that focus MUCH more on the creatures to get through first before coming full circle on Jonathan Graves.

*** 1/2 out of ****.  Highly recommended for my fellow horror fans.

He's back...the man behind the KEYBOARD...and he's out of control!!

There's a legend 'round here. A reviewer buried, but not dead. A curse on the interwebz - a death curse. The Jon Lickness Curse. They say he got tired of horror flicks...but he keeps coming back.

Few have seen him and lived. Some, like Rob Zombie and Eli Roth, have tried to stop him. No one can!

They say he is still down there in deepest, darkest Minnesota...waiting...

Yes, folks, the legend is true. After a LONG resting period spent buried in metaphorical hallowed ground with my back squarely turned on horror flicks and, to a lesser extent, the few people who actively read me...I'm back. But it's not the same person that you're used to.

A little background information, if by some chance you're just happening upon this here blog site. A few years back, it all started out on what was then known as the Official WrestleCrap Forums (now known as the Official FAN Forum), where THIS GUY (*the douchebaggy thumb gesture makes its glorious return!*) made it his mission to review Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, and all of the other long-running (read: never-ending) horror franchises that he had seen. Mission accomplished, only those reviews sucked royally. From there, the man known on the message board as Thomas Rigby became the Horror Nerd, focusing his efforts entirely on movies that he deemed to be technically "good," and set about inducting fifty movies into a personalized and always masturbatory Horror Hall of Fame. Once this very inauspicious task was completed, the Horror Nerd shed that extremely vanilla-sounding name and morphed, not unlike Sadako in the horrible Ringu sequel Rasen, to become Mr. Blood Guts N' Tears. This guy prided himself on writing horror commentary as well as taking on any and all horror movies that made their way into his collection, finally becoming, in the eyes of the author himself, a semi-decent reviewer.

But then, circumstances arose that drove Mr. BG&T away from the horror genre. These circumstances will be serving as those pesky GOOD kids in the slasher film who DON'T indulge in drugs, sex and all other manner of debauched behavior. You know, the hero and heroine. The nice guy and the virginal girl in this (horrible) allegory encompass a lot of different things. A complete lack of any and all horror films at the multiplex, and the only notable one being the certifiably awful The Devil Within (seen it, and it sucked). An unseasonably warm winter that didn't do much to keep me locked indoors, thus robbing me of my usually heavy wintertime horror-watching mood. Real-life issues that are far too boring to even think about getting into. All of it seemed to spell one thing - instant kryptonite for a stalwart horror villain. But little do those smiling, happy campers know that every horror villain has one more resurrection left in him. It only takes the right impetus...

Like, for starters, the fact that comicdom's ultimate bad girl from the wrong side of the tracks is being portrayed by a sweet, innocent girl next door-type who isn't convincing as anything BUT that, no matter how many gritty independent movies or how much "artistic nudity" she does in some desperate attempt to convince us otherwise. But hey, she's hot, and that will sell tickets.

With that good inflammatory statement out of the way, I have to state that much like Jason, Freddy and Michael (well, maybe - remember when Michael Myers had NO motive?) themselves, my return to torment/annoy my fellow horror fans was born of hate. See, April is upon us, leaving May and SUMMER MOVIE SEASON (capitalized because...well, it's Goddamn SUMMER MOVIE SEASON) right around the corner.

You know, there actually was a time when I looked FORWARD to this time of the year, when Hollywood would pull out all the stops in an attempt to wow us with their biggest, best, most commercially viable products. Unfortunately, those days are long gone.

I've seen all of the commercials. I've seen the slicked-up ads for The Avengers, and I can't think of anything but where I'd rather NOT be come Memorial Day weekend, or whenever the hell this overblown, overhyped POS is going to be unleashed on the public. I've read a couple of the on-set reports for the new Spider-Man movie, and can't feel anything but disgust over this completely UNNECESSARY overhaul of a series that was definitely NOT beyond saving, all for the purpose of making it more Twilight-fan friendly. And, while we're not getting one this year, I cringe thinking about the day when Johnny Depp's snarling mug is plastered on my tube again, hopefully with a much more apt title describing this latest cinematic opus - Pirates of the Caribbean: Well, Let's Milk This For All It's Worth.

The occasion is very rare when I walk out of a pure, unadulturated popcorn movie and DON'T want to rip my own eyeballs out. Why? They make me think back to the days of my youth, back when a movie with a huge budget was a RARE thing, and back when said movies used to feature tons of genuine love, soul and interest thrown into them. The original Star Wars trilogy (the prequels are dead to me). The '80s Indiana Jones movies (that last one doesn't exist - don't mention it). Terminator 1 and 2 (ditto with the latter films - noticing a trend yet?). The Die Hard series. The James Bond series before they went all emo, ultra-realistic and completely fun-free. These were movies that felt like a big deal before walking into that darkened room, and remained as such after walking out. Then I think about the countless action epics that dot the landscape these days with budgets roughly equal to a small nation's GDP, about how they SHOULD be cool and awe-inspiring, yet universally leave me cold. It's all sizzle-no sausage at cinemas these days, with boatloads of cartoony explosions and absolutely no time spent on, you know, the IMPORTANT stuff, like getting us emotionally invested in the events that are transpiring up on the screen and building up character motivation.

The reasons for this are numerous, and not all of it has to do with the storylines and characters sucking (although that's definitely the biggest part of it). The magic is completely gone from this type of film. I can remember, as a kid, seeing Mrs. Voorhees get her head chopped off in the climax of the original Friday the 13th, and thinking, "WOW! I wonder how they did THAT!" Now, I can look at planets exploding, robots pounding away on each other in intricately choreographed fights, and effeminate pirates staging colossal wars at sea, and I don't even think twice about any of it. I don't wonder how anything is done, because I KNOW how it's done. By some geek sitting on a laptop (which, you know, is VERY different to what I'm doing right now ;)). CGI makes creating ANYTHING a screenwriter can dream up relatively easy, but when you can do everything, ironically, you can't do anything.

I hate modern blockbusters. Just hate them. Hate every single overbudget, overproduced, audience-insulting one of these that hits the market. Hate the fact that these films with EVERY advantage, from top-notch effects teams to the best casts money can buy to highly heralded screenwriters churning out approximately 17 rewrites, can STILL find a way to suck.

Even the ones that I DON'T consider outright terrible are utterly forgettable in some form or another. Take last summer's Thor. A decent movie with a likable lead, but that promise quickly gets buried in its sea of never-ending fight scenes and thrills that depend on the theater's sound system to pull off. While I was ambivalent to it in theaters, have I ever once felt the need to watch the movie again? No. A year before that was Christopher Nolan's Inception. While the movie no doubt had a cool concept and solid execution, I'd be lying if I told you that I gave two s**ts about anything that happened in it. Free screenwriting tip: In your big, expensive summer sci-fi/action film, it's wise to make your stakes higher than whether or not a nondescript businessman can gain market share in the energy sector. Just sayin'.

So there I was, ready to march into another Summer of Discontent and more than likely to play like Willem Dafoe and take the pain when an unexpected Messiah descended from the heavens. A Friday the 13th popping up on the calendar. In April, no less, scant weeks away from the nonstop onslaught of special effects doomfests. Which meant that, for the first time in several months, I popped a horror film in the ol' DVD player...

And, like so many times before, I haven't stopped watching them since. Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter gave way to The Prowler, which gave way to My Bloody Valentine, which gave way to Prom Night, which gave way to Ju-On...you get the idea. Compared to the films that dominate the box office charts from here until September, these movies are such a welcome change. As opposed to featuring the world's greatest visual effects maestros, big names above the marquee and still smacking of laziness, these movies are labors of love, no matter how "bad" some of them may technically be.

I can't hate any movie made under the circumstances that so many of these movies are made. I respect them. I respect the hell out of the fact that some director took an inane script (that may have even been written by the director himself!), that actors chose to portray these roles as written on the page, that a gifted makeup wizard spent untold hours slaving away at a work bench to make the exploding-head death in scene 37 look JUST right. That EVERYONE involved in these films did their absolute damndest to make them as good as they could possibly be given the almost unbearable conditions that they were placed in. Screw Transformers and G.I. Joe and their precious $200 million worth of CGI fire. Give me handmade special effects, a mediocre-but-hardworking cast, and a Filet-o-Fish value meal budget ANY day.

Last winter, Mr. Blood Guts N' Tears suffered a long, painful death at the hands of fate. And thus, over the course of one weekend, he was revived by a combination of love and hate. Only now, he is something much worse. Undead. Unhinged. And Unstoppable. Love for campfire scary stories, cheesy soundtracks and cliches, guys named "Crispin" and girls named "Takako" back and stronger than ever. Hatred for (most) zombie movies, rock singers attempting to write "horror," and beat-you-over-the-head "message" flicks also back and stronger than ever. Someone who is completely forsaking Hollywood's prime time summer season now and for the ever-foreseeable future. Ladies and gentlemen...this is Lick Ness Monster's Horror Movie Mayhem!

You know, it's times like this that I really wish I was more tech-savvy, and that I had a friend who knew how to edit videos. Because let me tell you something (brother)...the vignette that I have pictured in my head that would air right here is something else. Just imagine that sexy guy you saw firsthand in the Basket Case 2 review getting berated by a few friends for leaving the horror genre behind, a brief interlude of me watching Highlander and other non-horror material, opening up my DVD cabinet, the once ever-increasing horror collection now stagnant. Then, I see a series of ads for upcoming action movies and become incensed. You know where it goes from here. Running up and down stairs to the tune of Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger," taking in movies ranging from Don't Go in the Woods to Manos: The Hands of Fate, clubbing away on a speed bag, the camera reversing the angle to show that I'm beating up on a cutout of Michael Bay's face. Priceless, I tell ya. Or maybe it's a lot funnier in my head than it is in prose writing form. Or maybe I'm just a moron.

Anyway...what to expect from here on out? We're going back to the past, back to a time when cheaply made horror movies weren't relegated solely to the direct-to-DVD production line. Back to a time when a lot of them actually made it to THEATERS, bah gawd. Back to the time of my childhood, which also not-so-coincidentally happens to be the '80s and early '90s, when many, many Saturday nights consisted of trips to video stores and return trips laughing with my brother (RIP, bro) about what lay in store for us when we got home. Back to a time when a whole slew of movies about "little demons" of some sort or another came to be in the wake of the success of Gremlins...

TO BE CONTINUED!

"Basket Case 3," with 100% more PERSONALITY!!

Way back in the glory days of VHS, Frank Henenlotter's movie Brain Damage was one of the first horror movies I ever saw. Since I was something like nine at the time, I thought it was awesome. Weird and occasionally disgusting, but awesome nonetheless. Imagine my surprise when I grow up to find out that the guy actually has an entire filmography (well, if you want to call six movies a "filmography") of equally as weird, equally as unique blood-soaked epics.

Since they make up a full-blown movie SERIES, the Basket Case movies have to be the guy's crowning achievement. Whatever some snobby English major wants to say about them as "artistic endeavors" or what have you, they're completely unlike anything you've ever seen. The first is the freakin' Taxi Driver of the slasher era, in tone if not in quality, while the second is a freak show masquerading as a horror flick. Still, even though I'd watched three hours of the sad, unintentionally hilarious tales of former Siamese twins who occasionally go on murderous rampages, nothing could have prepared me for the true levels of bizarrity that Basket Case 3: The Progeny manages to achieve. Unleashed on video store shelves (no theatrical release this time) a scant year after its predecessor, I fully expected a half-hearted effort. What I got was...just wow. It's just too goofy, even for me.

The cool thing about the BC series is that they're all very much direct sequels, picking right up where the previous one left off, and this one is no different. For those keeping score, the second movie ended with Belial giving it to "Eve," a similar deformed human being, and Duane going crazy and sewing his brother back on to his body. Well, the movie then warps forward in time, as Granny Ruth (once again played by Annie Ross), the lord and master of a safe haven for special individuals, has locked Duane in a padded room after his temporary bout of insanity. Oh, and the crude re-attaching thing didn't take, giving us one of the better retcons in horrordom.

We're also blessed with Kevin Van Hentenryck again for the duration of the movie, although this flick doesn't seem to have much to do with him. He's basically window dressing, as Henenlotter seemed to be actively trying to make this movie as holy-fuck weird as possible. The first movie was essentially all his, as the central conflict was Duane's quest for personal happiness and Belial's jealousy of him leading to their downfall. The second had Duane debating with himself whether or not he was a normal human being, ultimately realizing that he was completely alone. In this one, he spends 90 minutes begging his brother to talk to him again. To be sure, it's a little weak, and the story behind the scenes that Henenlotter really didn't want to make this movie seems to carry some credence.

ANYHOO...Duane is able to convince Granny Ruth that he is all sane and able, and it just so happens that Ruth is about to take the entire caravan of freaks on a road trip to the home of Doctor Hal (Dan Biggers), her ex-husband and also the father of the not-so-aptly named Little Hal (Jim O'Doherty), a prodigious inventor who also just so happens to have a massive glob for his lower half complete with about seventeen arms.

There's also something very important to mention about this section of the movie - while en route to Hal's residence (on a SCHOOL BUS), Ruth channels her vaudeville showbiz roots and unleashes...one of the most wonderful things I've ever seen.

It's almost as if Henenlotter said, "well, we've got a classically trained singer in this godforsaken movie...might as well use it."

Also while en route to the Hal family farm, some other crap that I wouldn't even bother recapping unless it had a bearing on future events takes place. The caravan stops at a gas station, where Ruth meets the friendly local Sheriff (Gil Roper) and Duane (still in a strait jacket, as Ruth still doesn't firmly trust him) attempts to convince the Sheriff's daughter Opal (Tina Louise Hilbert) to set him free. And it's all just as riveting as it sounds.

After what seems like forever, the group finally gets to Hal's residence, where the glorious birth sequence begins. Belial is, of course, present for this, but during the birth his 46K cache memory pulls up a little video for the audience to watch (the unintentionally hilarious "separation" scenes from the original film, marking the third time this has been shown in the series). The idea is that this prompts his rage against all doctors, and he throws himself at Hal, severely mauling him and impairing the oncoming birth operation. But not enough, I guess.

Now, the movie had been decidedly slow and boring up until this point, but this birth scene changes it up in a big way. Maybe too much. Little Hal takes over his father's position as the chief birth-giver, and spends a legit five minutes of screen time watching these mini-Belials pop out of Eve while screaming like a cheerleader. There's weird. There's abstract. And then there's just annoying as shit.

It's also worth noting that while this is going on, Belial has been drugged and locked in his basket by Ruth after the whole attempted murder incident, and spends this valuable time daydreaming. And we even get the video representation of just what he's thinking about. Yes, sir, this movie proudly features Belial Bradley sexual fantasies.

So, all of the little bastards are born now. End Movie A, commence Movie B.

Movie B of Basket Case 3: The Progeny is our proverbial "shit hits the fan" segment that pretty much every gore flick prides itself on, and thankfully it's a bit more tolerable than the opening segments of the film. Earlier in the movie, Duane had escaped from Hal's house only to be promptly captured by Opal (in a Hulk Hogan Bash at the Beach '96 esque heel turn) and several officers. While in jail, there's this whole fascinating scene where Opal even clues us in that she's an extreme sexual deviant of sorts, stripping down to practically nothing and attempting to whip him dominatrix style. Don't believe me?

A couple of the dumber town deputies make their way to Hal's, eager for the million dollar reward on the infamous "Times Square twins," as they're known in the confines of this movie's universe. They break in and promptly mistake a groggy Eve for Belial, killing her in the process and stealing the litter of babies before the celebrating freaks can get them. By the way, these two bozos (I didn't even bother to learn their names) have LONG sequences of dialogue together, and they make very good endurance tests. They make James Karen and Thom Mathews in Return of the Living Dead look super-dignified.

I think you all know where the movie was going from here - Belial is outraged at the death of his lady-friend, Ruth gives another Vince Lombardi rally the troops speech (although it's not quite as awesome as the one in the previous movie), followed by Belial singlehandedly decimating the officers on staff in the police station. During the course of this scene, Opal eats a shotgun blast from one of the hick policemen, ending her reign as the best damn dominatrix semi love-interest...there ever was. To give the movie some credit, it also has its fair share of gory, over-the-top murders, most of which happen in this sequence. If you like your Belial Bradley to be as sadistic as possible, this is your scene, baby.

Anyway, pretty much all of our principal opposition characters are dead now except for Sheriff My Daughter is Dead, leading to a final showdown between himself and Belial. Only there's a slight wrinkle thrown into the formula in the form of the robotic body that Little Hal has built for him. Yeah. Believe it. And there's also a little stinger at the end of the movie involving a stand-in for Geraldo Rivera eating it for his exploitation of freaks.

Having seen this entire series now, I'm going to revise my ratings somewhat and say that the first movie is definitely my favorite. The sleaze factor alone makes it - the graininess and the location filming gives it this undefinable quality, almost as if Frank Henenlotter just showed up in the slummiest section of New York and grabbed whoever was in eyesight for cast members. The second movie has an infinitely higher budget and way more intricate makeup effects sequences, removing some of the soul from the experience, but it's also such a polar opposite from the first movie in terms of tone that it still felt like a necessary movie.

This one, though, basically felt like a repeat of the second movie, only one that cranks up the goofy factor even more. It contains almost all of the same cast, and all of the freaks that seemed novel in that movie elicited nothing more than "eh" reactions from me this time around. The supporting cast definitely isn't as strong - Judy Grafe's dirtbag reporter character in the second movie was hateful to the core, which the army of dumb and/or greedy cops in this movie just can't compare with. Overall, the entire movie just had a very "been there, done that" feel to it, especially after watching its predecessor just a few days earlier, as there really isn't any tonal shift from that movie to this one. Most importantly, it just doesn't have the emotional kick that the first two movies did, mainly due to its relegating of Kevin Van Hentenryck to afterthought status. The dude had really grown on me.

Having said all that, I've walked away from this series with nothing but the utmost respect for Frank Henenlotter as a writer and director. As AFOREMENTIONED, it's widely speculated that he really didn't want to do this movie, and was generally sick of the whole Basket Case saga. Even with that handicap, he still managed to craft some unforgettable sequences ("Personality" anyone?) just as he has with all of his films. These movies are exploitation cinema crossed with schlock crossed with horror, and it's a shame that he took a 17-year break from making movies after the release of this particular flick. I can report firsthand, however, that it was well worth the wait, as his 2008 comeback film Bad Biology was 100% pure awesomeness.

One final word - I watched this movie on VHS just like the last one, and if you're going to check this one out, that's the route that I would suggest taking. There's just something so much more awesome about watching long-just-for-the-sake-of-long birth scenes and police officers' heads being twisted off in low-resolution VHS.

** out of ****. Recommended only for hardcore Frank Henenlotter fans, not recommended for horror fans at large.

There's only one way to watch a movie about messed-up freaks and killer Siamese twins: It's "Basket Case 2"...on VHS!!

Last October, I gave the full Blood, Guts and Tears review treatment to Basket Case, the all singing, all dancing, Siamese twin boob fondling exploitation film from 1982 that stands today as a beloved cult classic. While I hated the film when I first caught it on AMC at three in the morning some long ago night ten years ago, the film's one-of-a-kind plot, sick murder scenes and wry self-aware campiness won me over the second time around, ultimately resulting in my personal favorite blog review. For those of you who missed it (and if you did, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? It's RIGHTCHERE), it's a movie about a dude who carries his Siamese twin brother - or, more specifically, a freakish-looking head and arms beast - around in a wicker basket, hence the name, as they attempt to murder the doctors who separated them. Along the way, devil-child Siamese twin boy - named Belial - attempts to mack it to several ladies. Suck it, Shakespeare. You've got nothing on this.

At any rate, while I loved watching the sharp picture quality and listening to the pristine Dolby audio on my DVD copy of the film...something just didn't feel right. Here's this trashy, grimy, sleazy movie from the early '80s with a five-piece chicken tenders budget and enough buckets of fake blood to make Bob Keane piss himself with envy...and I had to witness some expertly-created animated menu screens? And didn't get to soak up any upcoming horror movie trailers first? And, of course, the real shot to the nuts - after the movie's hilarious, sad, and tragic (it's all simultaneous, believe me) conclusion, the credits began rolling and I DIDN'T have to press STOP and hit REWIND? What the hell is wrong with the world?

At any rate, the Horror Nerd is ready to revisit the world of Duane and Belial Bradley, and he's doing it the RIGHT way!!

Yup, that sexy beast that you see in the above picture who may or may not be the author of this manifesto is tackling Basket Case 2 the way that God himself intended - on an old, beat-up VHS former rental copy, found via various personal dealings and acquired for the low-low price of three bucks.

It depresses me on so many levels that there is an entire generation of kids out there who have likely never used or watch a VHS tape, due to the newfangled discs and digital video recorders and what not. So Generation Z, let me be the one to break it to you that you missed out big time, because VHS is STILL the greatest home video format of all time. Gloriously inefficient, wonderfully clunky and a pain in the ass to store due to their bulky size, watching movies on VHS is simply more FUN than watching a movie on any other format. You know why? Because they have SOUL. So get ready, BG&T readers, because it's time for some good ol' curmudgeonly old man ranting.

Almost all of the community experience has been stripped away from watching movies at home, be it by rental or by purchase. We buy films on Amazon, and they're at our door within a matter of days. We swarm to Netflix and other onlne rental places like misguided bats, browsing the virtual title listings and adding titles to queues (or even worse, watching our movies via...*holds back gag reflex*...instant streaming), reducing the act of sampling or purchasing movies to acquiring the services of a prostitute for the evening. Or a mail-order bride, I guess, if you're buying the damn thing on Amazon or eBay. Yes, Mr. Movie Pimp, please send me the action movie from last summer with that guy who was in 300. I hear it's got a real pretty mouth. OK, I've shot my load now - you can deduct my money at the end of the month from my credit card. But my preference for VHS over the discs that replaced them goes deeper than that.

I don't care how technologically advanced and cool Blu-Ray discs are. I don't care that if anything was more sharp-looking the human eye wouldn't be able to process it, or that the sound gives home viewers the true "movie theater experience," whatever the hell that means. There's no soul to that format whatsoever. Screw perfection, I enjoy being able to SEE the imperfections that come from a video device being watched a thousand times. It reminds me that I'm not alone, that some other sad soul out there, on some lonely night, thought that watching Ghoulies or Sleepaway Camp sounded like a good idea. Thus, it's almost because of the limitations of VHS technology that the very act of watching a movie on this format was so damn much fun. You were part of a community, and you could actually friggin' SEE it.

It's not like I'm innocent - I've bought plenty of movies on Amazon and have a pretty sizable DVD collection, but at the video store that I frequented during college, if given a choice between DVD and VHS, I'd go with the dusty old VHS copy every time. In addition to that, I've never bothered to upgrade many of the most beloved movies of my youth, despite the fact that I've had plenty of opportunities to do so, as my VHS copies of the Star Wars trilogy (the originals - what prequels do you speak of?) and the Indiana Jones trilogy (what fourth movie do you speak of?) will always be the only way I'll ever watch those movies. And I still refuse to give any money to Netflix. To me, that company is the devil incarnate.

Where was I? Oh yeah - Basket Case 2. Back in the days of the childhood of Jon Lickness, the local video hut was the place to be on Friday or Saturday night, and at this time VHS ruled the roost. Remember when we used to drive or WALK to brick-and-mortar stores to peruse actual, physical aisles - sometimes ROWS UPON ROWS of them - without a clear destination in mind, waiting for that special film to call out your name? When the format exploded in popularity in the early '80s, we were in the golden age of the slasher film, and for yours truly horror films and VHS tapes go hand in hand. Hell, they do for a lot of people. There was nothing quite like bringing a tape of some cheaply made and overtly schlocky gore flick up to the clerk (or, even better, actually TELLING the guy what movie you wanted if all the movies were behind the counter - yes, kids, this occasionally happened!), and either getting a confused stare in response or a hearty, humorous "Dude! I've seen that movie!" I can't say that the time of brick-and-mortar video stores and rental tapes was simpler, but add it all together and this whole experience just can't be matched with all the sparkly new formats and pointing and clicking at what goddamn movie you want to watch.

It is from this ancient method that the Horror Nerd watched many, many fine and not-so-fine horror films throughout the years for the first time - all of the Nightmare on Elm Street movies, all of Chucky's flicks, Stephen King's The Mangler, The Town That Dreaded Sundown, The Toxic Avenger...you get the idea. And a few months after re-seeing and highly enjoying Frank Henenlotter's sick splatterfest Basket Case, I'm not just going to watch this sequel on VHS and call it a day. I'm going COMPLETELY old-school, affording myself research on only the cast since it makes the review a bit easier to read but no other background information, because we didn't get that back in the day. No photos culled from the internet - all the screenshots you're about to see are photos that I personally took of my television screen as I watched this movie. And, just to show you all how dedicated I am, no subtitles. Made all the easier because this tape doesn't have them.

THE MOVIE!!!

Starting things RIGHT [/Public Enemy] is the old-school FBI warning and a few crackles of audio difficulties of some unknown origin. I already feel at home. The movie itself kicks off with a montage of the ending of the original film, as Duane and Belial toss themselves out of a window and fall to certain doom. And it ranks right up there with Red finding Andy in the "instant tears" department. Selling the story even more is an attractive blonde reporter who gives us the story, complete with a cameo from the skaggy prostitute from the original film. Wow. Now that's continuity you CAN'T get in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.

Only the fall from their second story apartment WASN'T certain doom, as doctors rush the siblings away to a nearby hospital It doesn't take long for this movie to turn into a laugh riot, as one of the hospital security guards is a lecherous deviant (kind of like Bud in Halloween II) who uses a few cheesy come-on lines on one of the hottie nurses only to be rebuked. Security guard goes to check on Duane, whose vital organs and fantastic hair are hooked up to various forms of life support, while the nurse checks on Belial. It's here where we get our first glimpse of the little (big) guy in this film. But it gets better. Since this is a horror movie, Belial of course springs to life and makes his way to his brother's room, killing the d**k out of lecherous security guard with a quickness.

It became apparent right away that this movie had a much bigger budget than the original. In the first film, whenever Belial was on the move, it looked like he was warping across a room faster than the speed of sound due to some truly terrible stop-motion photography. In this movie, he's clearly a puppet for the entirety of his onscreen exploits, and the movement and mannerisms are much more fluid. Just ask lecherous security guard. He doesn't seem to be enjoying the new, improved Belial Bradley's newfound agility.

After a daring escape from the hospital (during which Duane shoves his brother into a towel cart), they are picked up by two new characters. Earlier in the movie, two women - one older and one younger - had been shown watching news reports of the Belial rampage, and in a shocking twist these are your two rescuers. And, well, if you're a possessor of a glorious semi-fro with an evil human mass for a brother who has also just murdered several people, you should immediately trust anyone who offers you a ride.

In the morning, we find out who these people are, and it's here where Basket Case 2 gets an identity. It turns out that the older woman, named Granny Ruth and played by Annie Ross (who amazingly enough has more than ten ALBUMS to her credit as a musical performer), was a friend of Duane and Belial's crazy aunt who assisted them in escaping from their evil parents all those years ago. She runs a kind of halfway house for...uh...strange human beings, and it's safe to say that Belial fits into this category. Before Duane can process all this (in addition to the sight of Ruth's hot granddaughter Susan), she takes him upstairs to meet the freaks in person.

Apparently somebody else on some long-ago night found these scenes as fascinating as I did, because the video quality lagged severely during the "meet the weirdos" scene. And man, what a cast of mutants this movie has. One of them is nothing more than a massive head who sings like Pavarotti, one of them is some kind of bizarre human-frog hybrid (complete with RIBBIT sound effects, holy Christ), and yet another one is a former conjoined mass eerily similar to Belial but also decidedly female. While the movie has TONS of shots of the freaks as a group, I decided not to snap a photo of any of them. This movie's sideshow supporting cast is just something that you have to see for yourself.

The movie then warps forward in time a year, as an ace reporter (called only "News Woman" in the ending credits but called "Marcie" by a few unfortunate souls in this movie) working at a trashy tabloid newspaper is given an assignment by her boss - come up with some new theories on the long-missing "Bradley twins" case, and if possible, find the weirdos. Sounds like a license to print money to me. At any rate, Marcie (and yes, at some point in this movie they say her last name, but apparently I wasn't paying enough attention to write it down in my notes) is played by Judy Grafe, better known as the FREAKING MOM FROM PETE AND PETE. AMAZING. Much like the first movie, I didn't know what to expect when I popped in this videocassette, but the mother from one of my favorite shows as a kid in a dislikable snooping reporter role wasn't one of them.

Meanwhile, Duane and Bradley appear to have adjusted to life at Granny Ruth's commune. In a strange way, Ruth is a really likable character, and it's here where we get the line of the movie. While sitting Belial down (or at least as much as one can sit when they're a legless tumor) for therapy, she speaks a few soothing words to appeal to Belial's good side and feelings of resentment but then adds that "ripping people's faces off might not be in your best interest!" I'll let the cat out of the bag, I fell off my chair. Duane has struck up a close friendship with Susan, walks with a cane to sell the fall from the first film, and has CUT OFF HIS SAMSON-ESQUE LOCKS. For the record, Duane is still played by Kevin Van Hentenryck, and the eight-year layover between these two films has actually done him some favors in the acting department. He's got this kind of William Shatner presence in this movie, more than aware that he isn't a master thespian and exploiting that to the fullest by being as goofy as possible.

We get clued in on one of our key subplots within the epic scope that is Basket Case 2 here. See, Duane now feels that he is completely "normal," and wants to get away from his brother and murderous revenge plots for good. He has a deep, meaningful conversation with Susan here where he says that he wants to leave and take her with him. By the way, the chick playing Susan is bad beyond compare, delivering her lines with as much raw emotion as Christian Bale on sedatives. As it turns out, she doesn't want to go with, saying that she "belongs here" in some beat-you-over-the-head foreshadowing that we'll be getting to later. Immediately after this stirring scene, he heads upstairs to break the news to Belial, who is holding hands with the female conjoined entity. Yes, sir, Basket Case 2 proudly features the "Belial gets a girlfriend!" plot.

We're about to get some decent complications in the plot. Marcie, along with her photographer friend Artie, heads out to Granny Ruth's to get her expert advice on strange-looking people. While there, she spots Duane and recognizes him and quickly makes her exit, and both Ruth and Duane realize that the jig is up. As Marcie immediately begins scheming with her cameraman about how to exploit this story for all the monetary gain possible, Duane realizes the error of his ways and offers to stay behind until this threat to the commune's privacy has been extinguished. And there's only one way to do that. In the scene of the movie, Ruth wanders upstairs to the freakatorium, giving this epic, over-the-top rah-rah speech to her charges about "STAAAAAYIIIINNNNGGGG!!!" and "FIIIIIGGGGHHHTTTTIIINNNNGGGGG!!!!" Knute Rockne has nothing on this shit. Even better, the freaks pump their fists in the air and chant "FIGHT" along with her. It's completely ridiculous, completely out of place...and I love it.

The first guy up on the kill train is Artie, who offers to wander into the house to try to get some pictures after dark. In the annals of dumb horror movie plans, this ranks right up there with the great ones. He gets boxed around by the brigade before Bradley performs the coup de grace. The body count in this one is keeping pace with the first movie, since earlier there had also been a completely inconsequential death of a sideshow host who claimed to have Belial's body on display only to be hunted down by Granny Ruth and Belial. One thing about this movie - it's not quite as over-the-top as the first one, at least in the gore department. However, since we're given a singing head and a girlfriend for Belial, I think we're given more than enough compensation in the weirdness department. Thank you, Frank Henenlotter.

Since Marcie was right outside Granny Ruth's when her photographer friend bit the dust (and hearing his girlish screams, no less), she consults a private detective friend for help, who promptly calls the commune and arranges a meeting with Duane, feeling that he is the key to winning the fight since he is the supposedly "normal" one who can be turned, not unlike switching from the light side to the dark side. And this guy...wow. His name is Phil, and when he wanders into a dark, smoky bar to meet Duane, he looks like he wandered straight out of a 1930s film noir thriller, complete with the trenchcoat and hat. At any rate, this is actually a very skillfully done sequence of dialogue, as Duane goes on a long-winded tirade about what is normal and what isn't, before it's revealed that IT'S A TRAP (/Admiral Ackbar) and that Granny Ruth's entire army is inside the bar with them. The cherry on top? They're wearing "human masks" that barely cover half their faces. Awesome. After knocking Phil around for a while, Belial once again gets the honors of killing the dude, but not before engaging in a fierce game of "gun tug of war." Unintentional hilarity at its finest.

We cut to Marcie in her apartment, who is on the phone with her boss, still trying to salvage the story. Everyone has to give it up for the movie here - between the script and Grafe's performance, they really do an excellent job making this sleazy reporter dislikable, and by the end of this movie, you REALLY want her to get what's coming to her. While in the bathroom, she hears her window break, and is surprised by Duane sitting in one of her chairs. Soon enough, the rest of the weirdos have come for her...and finally, Duane opens his old wicker basket. But instead of killing her, Belial stops in the middle of the act, as Duane says "now you're one of us!" The camera gives us the payoff shot...and it is a cheer-out-loud moment.

Since the VHS display says that we have five minutes to go, it's shocking conclusion time. While a lot of Basket Case 2 had felt like a fairly straightforward revenge horror film up until this point, get ready for some insane weirdness. The freaks are celebrating back at Granny Ruth's, now free of roving reporters who want to take their privacy away, while both Duane and Belial begin romancing their girlfriends. See, the first movie had this legendary scene where Belial chokes Duane's love interest to death and has sex with her corpse, but even THAT couldn't prepare me for the weirdness that is his love scene in this movie. We're talking full on humping, gasping, moaning monkey sex between two legless, 18" tall monstrosities. Even weirder since it's pretty clearly shown that Belial doesn't have a d**k, but whatever. Duane's attempts to profess his love for Susan don't go quite as well, as she reveals her own freakdom in the midst of making out.
Confession time - this movie pulled one over on me big time. I fully expected that the female significant other for Belial would turn out to be Susan's sister or something, but what we get is so much more glorious. Just check it out.

Yup, turns out that she has been pregnant for SIX YEARS and that the thing in her belly - a miniature version of one of the creatures from Tremors - "isn't ready to come out yet." Despite her cries of "but he's not dangerous," Duane is beside himself with grief. After a brief tussle with Susan, he accidentally tosses her out of a window, and she tragically falls to her death. Realizing that he is now completely alone, and that even Belial has someone to share his life with, he does the only sane thing - sews his brother back onto his side, laughing maniacally in the process. And this is where the movie ends, my friends.

Overall, my experience with this movie was much the same as the first. It doesn't have that same dirt-cheap quality that the first movie did, but even blessed with a budget approximately 1,000 times as high, Basket Case 2 manages to be a very emotional movie despite its huge gamut of terrible qualities. Kevin Van Hentenryck as Duane has this very relatable, shy, awkward quality that endears himself to an audience in a very unique way. No matter what you might be thinking from reading the plot description above, you want this guy to find happiness. In an even weirder way, the audience finds itself pulling for Belial, relating to his rage at the ostracization he suffers and his jealousy at his normal brother. It might not even be intentional, but the script by Henenlotter really pulls you in.

It's also got a couple of GREAT supporting performances, from Grafe as well as Annie Ross as Ruth. Ross in this movie reminds me of Betsy Palmer in the original Friday the 13th; on the outside, she seems like a caring, nurturing, sweet old woman, but underneath she's got this ruthless, dark, vengeful side that Ross does a great job of busting out whenever the script calls for it.

More than anything, though, this movie was just loads of fun to watch, due in no small part to watching it on VHS. In addition to the times I pointed out in the plot description, there were many more occurrences of video and audio distortion, along with the usual foibles of VHS use - adjusting the tracking (*sigh* - remember that?), fast forwarding past the FBI warning (which is one thing that you CAN'T do on DVD/Blu-Ray) and maybe even checking out the ending credits to get a few actor names is all part of the experience that gives watching a cheap horror movie on VHS so much soul. I knew that other people had watched it, likely laughing to themselves for all the right and all the wrong reasons on more than a few occasions. And yes, this movie that proudly displays WAY over-the-top freaks and explicit sex between deformed Siamese twins would have felt right at home coming home with me sometime in the early '90s for a night of popcorn and schlock.

*** 1/2 out of ****, and I don't feel I need to give any other reasons. However, just like every horror franchise, I need to point out that this is a work in progress. TO BE CONTINUED...

Belial Bradley is about to be a DADDY!!

Sex, murder, and rock and roll: Dario Argento presents "Four Flies on Grey Velvet"!!

Bold blanket statement time - this is the most detailed review of Four Flies on Grey Velvet that you will find...anywhere on the internet. Or at least the most detailed of anything that you'll be able to find by typing "Four Flies on Grey Velvet review" into Google and looking for about five minutes like I did. Until something bigger is on the first three search pages, I'm declaring myself the champion.

For those of you who have followed my reviews for an extended period of time (all three of you), you're likely aware that I hold filmmaker Dario Argento in a pretty high regard, to the point where I've reviewed more than a few of his more well-known flicks and bored everyone who will listen about the awesomeness that is "the Italian Alfred Hitchcock" (media nickname, not mine). The dog-and-pony show that we're looking at today is Argento's third film as a director, having been released in 1971 during the height of the "giallo" genre's popularity.

It's also one of the rarest movies in his catalogue; a few years back when I went on my Argento buying splurge, I was able to find most of his films for somewhere between $4-$6 a pop. This one cost me 17 cool ones for the cheapest copy they had on Amazon. According to the ever-accurate Wikipedia, this flick didn't even GET a DVD release until 2009 for whatever reason - made all the more odd since the two movies that precede it in Argento's career (Bird With the Crystal Plumage and Cat O' Nine Tails, which make up a series of nonconnected giallos known as the "Animals trilogy" - clever, I know) are readily buyable.

Finally, before we get this show on the road, BOOO-URNS to Mya Communication for being LAZY BASTARDS and not doing subtitles for this DVD, forcing my hard-of-hearing ass to crank the volume up to 100 just to barely make out what the actors are saying. It's made all the more ridiculous that the DVD contains subs for the "director's cut" scenes (which total about thirty freakin' seconds). So why couldn't they do it for the rest of the movie? Who knows. At any rate, the Horror Nerd's hearing ain't the greatest anymore, and any DVD without subs is a major annoyance.

That bit of bitching aside...THE MOVIE!!!

The movie starts out with an extended (maybe a bit too extended) opening title sequence that introduces us to our main character, Roberto (Michael Brandon, who all things considered is pretty bland in this role). Roberto, like a lot of early Argento protagonists, is kind of a surrogate for the director himself, and is a drummer in a groovy early '70s rock band as we're treated to one of their jams throughout the credits. In fact, this opening sequence kind of plays out like Rockwell's "Somebody's Watching Me" music video, as it shows Roberto constantly being hounded and shadowed by a mysterious man wearing all black.

Moving RIGHT ALONG...apparently this has been going on for quite some time, since Roberto is quite annoyed by this dude's presence at his band's rehearsal. He follows him away from the studio space, eventually winding up at a dark, shadowy (lots of shadowy things in this movie) old theatre. After the usual bit of "why are you following me?" merryment, the dark man pulls out a knife, and in a dodgily choreographed fight scene Roberto winds up accidentally killing his would-be stalker. While all of this is going on, there's yet ANOTHER mysterious guy present...

Most of Argento's non-supernatural films follow a pretty cut-and-dried formula - everyman hero with a somewhat artistic job finds himself wrapped up in a murder investigation while badass killer wearing either (a) mask, or (b) black gloves, goes about murdering the holy hell out of people. And...yeah. Take it from Dario Argento, kids - all-white puppet masks are creepy. At any rate, this guy just happens to be hanging out in the loft of the theatre and witnesses the murder, conveniently snapping several photos of the incident, as well. This is the lynchpin event that sets your movie in motion.

Roberto goes home to his wife Nina (Mimsy Farmer), who constantly seems to have a revolving door of random partygoers floating through their house. After kicking all of these random miscriants out (and believe me, they're pretty random - two of them are writers/journalists - not sure which - who constantly blather on about which one has the more sickening war atrocity story; nice, light party talk, ya know), Roberto is randomly attacked by the blackmailer, who kindly informs him that he won't kill him yet before departing. The next morning, we get our heartwrenching scene where Roberto reveals to his wife that he has killed a man.

Soon enough, photographs begin showing up at Roberto's abode, and three guesses as to just what they contain. Yup, it seems that the kid-masked killer is now hell-bent on fucking up Roberto's shit, and a noticeably freaked Roberto and Nina head outside the big city for some all-star backup. Said cleanup hitter is a private investigator friend named Godfrey (Bud Spenser), and it's thanks to this character that we get one of the most downright strange dialogue exchanges in movie history. I'm not going to describe the whole thing, but first Godfrey derides that his name isn't God Almighty, then proceeds to introduce his friends to his pet parakeet named Jerkoff. I swear I'm not making this up. The point of this scene is so that Godfrey can recommend them to ANOTHER private investigator, pointing them in the direction of a man named Arrosio.

Meanwhile, while all of this (fascinating, I'm sure) exposition is going on, the blackmailer has already begun going to work, sending some sort of incriminating evidence to the helpful maid (Jesus - from what we ever see of him, Roberto is just some low-level musician, and he has a MAID?? I'm in the wrong field). This sets up a park murder scene that is actually very skillfully laid out. Everybody has to give it up for Argento in this regard - when it's time for money scenes, this guy knows how to get it done, and the shrieking soundtrack by Ennio Morricone (a frequent Argento collaborator) really sets the dreadful mood well. A+++ for this sequence, even though it involves a character who was given a grand total of 54 seconds of screen time before being involved in this murder scene.

Roberto finds his way to the office of Arrosio, a flamingly gay investigator played by Jean-Pierre Marielle and easily my favorite character in this movie. Now, a lot of the other reviews of this movie deride Argento for including such a flagrant stereotype in the film. Truth be told, almost all of the other characters in this movie are Jinder Mahal-esque levels of bland. At least Arrosio breaks the monotony. What more do you need to know? Roberto has an investigator working for him, and the killer is still out there. Let's move on.

It should be clear by this point that this movie meanders a lot, but whenever an Argento movie starts to drag, he seems to know the precise moment to spring another murder scene on the audience, as Roberto's agent/friend/what-have-you bites the dust in short order. It isn't that creative of a sequence, so it's not worth recapping in detail. Again, we'd only known this guy for about two minutes before his death, so the impact is lessened considerably. Hilariously enough, Roberto and Nina manage to keep their social life afloat, throwing another party attended by both gory-story obsessed writers as well as Nina's cousin Dalia (the impossibly attractive Francine Racette).

After another very incriminating note and series of photos arrive at the house, Nina finally decides to leave, fearing for her own safety as well as for Roberto's future (since, if he goes to the police, he likely goes to prison for the accidental murder of the stalker and all). Dalia stays behind to watch after Roberto, which results in the hot cousin offering to run him a bath and give him a massage. Since Nina rocks the androgynous Annie Lennox look and is, in general, a shrewish bitch, this sequence leads to...

Yeah. Sex scene. It's one of the most disjointed and unintentionally hilarious sex scenes of all time in the realm of slasher/giallo gratuitous nudity sequence, but Francine Racette is indeed very good to look at. Amazingly enough, she's been married to DONALD SUTHERLAND of all people for the past thirty years. Proof that there's hope for everyone.

From this point on, the movie becomes a bit more interesting and even speeds up its very deliberate pace. First of all, Arrosio is fairly successful in tracking down the blackmailer (although we the audience aren't clued in on the various people he talks to during a handy-dandy musical montage), leading to his death scene, which is very cringe-worthy if you're a wuss like me and cannot stand the sight of a needle entering a body. In a way, I dug the arc of Arrosio's character in this movie - a detective who has never solved a case, and as he lays in a toilet stall dying from whatever the insane killer has injected him with, he seems oddly satisfied that he has finally been right in his profession. Good stuff.

In short order, the movie gives us its true ace in the hole - the stalk-and-slash death of Dalia. While the movie started off pretty emotionally hollow, the death of the red-hot Dalia - a nice girl all things considered, but nonetheless the cause of Roberto's infidelity - hits the audience in the gut with plenty of force. The dread in this scene is actually pretty intense, as the killer first shuts the lights off and seems to cut off all exits for Dalia, leading to a very Hitchcockian series of camera shots as he moves in for the kill.

Wrapping things up, the movie enters its final act, as Roberto buys a gun with plans on waiting around his house for the killer to show up and utilizing some Charles Bronson-style justice. Seems like a sound enough plan to me. Only, since this is a horror film, none of the stuff like this ever goes to plan, leading to another admittedly tense scene leading up to our killer's reveal. And the streak that I'm almost ashamed of continued, as I'm presently zero-for-life in attempting to guess Dario Argento mystery killers, despite the fact that I should have seen this one coming a MILE away.

While I enjoyed this flick, it has more than its fair share of problems. For starters, this movie takes a LONG time to hit any sort of stride, and much of the first hour of it is terminally boring. It dilly-dallies to an almost criminal level, particularly during the never-ending scenes involving the various party scenes and the godawful stuff involving Godfrey. In addition to that, the character of Roberto may very well be the most dislikable of any Argento protagonist. This is partially by design, as a big part of the mystery killer's motivation involves how much of a douchebag he is, but most Argento films give us a colorful and engaging lead to follow around while he goes about building tension and atmosphere.

That build isn't quite as effective for this go-round, especially compared to the earlier "Animals" film Bird With the Crystal Plumage (for the record, I still have yet to check out Cat O' Nine Tails). While many giallo films are about anything but plot, Four Flies on Grey Velvet might very well contain too much plot for its own good. Too many characters are introduced, too many dialogue scenes go absolutely nowhere, and some of the most out there character and dialogue sequences in movie history are given to us as the killer goes about setting up the master plan.

Now for what this movie does right...namely, pretty much everything past the halfway point. While it seemed extremely out of place at the time, the sex scene between Roberto and Dalia is the point that this movie begins to turn the corner and sees Argento as a screenwriter finding the groove that he would turn into his next movie, the almost universally praised Deep Red. As usual, the camerawork in the movie is exceptional, as this movie more than Bird With the Crystal Plumage sees Argento practicing several techniques that would become trademarks later on, including an early example of the "bullet time" gunshot and a phenomenal film-ending super-slow-mo car crash. When it comes to visual style, ol' Dario is almost second to none. For fans of moody film music, the score by Morricone does a fantastic job setting the psychosexual themes of the film, and during the various chase and murder scenes, you'll find yourself tense even if what surrounds these scenes is anything but.

So, in conclusion, Four Flies on Grey Velvet is an early work by a guy who hadn't quite mastered his craft yet. And...it shows. If you dig a little deeper, however, you'll find more than a few glimmers of style, a couple masterful murder sequences and that unmistakable Italian horror movie atmosphere.

*** out of ****. Recommended if you're a fan of Italian giallo thrillers or if you're an Argento completionist, not recommended if you're neither.