Movie Review: "Phantasmagoria" (2017; Phantasma Disques/Limited)

(…in all honesty, this is one of those genre films best experienced and appreciated…multiple times, if need be…before reading a review, especially one such as what follows, as it unavoidably…well, it doesn't necessary give away too much, in as much as it might measurably curtail and dilute the mind-blowing experience of watching the film itself. Hey...wouldn't want to water down that ‘what the fuck did I just see’ experience, do we?? Just saying, in advance…)…

…”…go to Poland”, they said…”…cover this strange story”, they said…”…nothing will happen”, they said…

…uh, can you say, “…famous last words”??...

…as Rod Serling, at one time, so succinctly coined, “…submitted for your approval”, we have…a grossly decrepit, eroded, rain drenched European ghost town…screaming birds in a cage…screaming trees in a blood-red forest…a malevolent creature, initiating and overseeing macabre proceedings, with fish-eyed clarity of vision…mesmerized contorting nuns in a hotel room…blind girls, with their eyes plucked out, wandering aimlessly…topless nuns, wearing red cloaks, invoking petty evil…gas masks, and constricting black lace cocoons…investigative reporters, who just happened to be knowledged in exorcism…a harrowing and tragic legend of two sisters, one blind, the other evil…submissive, kneeling nuns, being forced to throat crucifixes…a quick, pre-flight drink of laundry detergent(?)…not to mention more nuns, with mechanical tentacles, streaming from their mouths, and draped over crucifixes…

…uh, yeah right…not exactly frosty flaked, Saturday morning kiddie cartoon fare, to be sure…or, for the sake of subtle eloquence…WTF!!!...

…as a would be writer, much like any imaginative scribe might be, this reviewer often time finds that his dreams and the whims of nocturnal unconsciousness are often the best and foremost resource, as far as story ideas; in fact, without fail, there’s always pen and paper deftly handy, and placed on this able scribe’s nightstand, so that upon waking from a dream, the details can be quickly jotted down, whilst the dream is fresh…and the more bizarre and far-fetched the dream, the better. In fact, being addicted to the almighty liquid speed-god Rockstar…so much so that this energy drink junkie can genuinely go back to sleep, soon after guzzling one of those tasty jitter-inducing beverages…well, sleep does invariably come, but with the mind spinning a million miles a minute, and as such…well, the most vividly outrageous and incomprehensible dreams do result…

…curiously, the wildly intriguing aspect of the dreamscape is the inarguable logic of the dream world’s mythos. Without reason or explanation, anything can happen, and usually does…and at the most random moments. And no matter how outrageous the event…no matter how bizarre the behavior of not only the characters in the dream, but the dreamer itself…well, in the dream, whatever happens, it’s just accepted, and makes unquestionable sense, even up to the point where one is in the conscious throes of waking. As compelling, or even unnerving as the dream might be, on the cusp of said waking, who doesn’t desperately grasp at the logic of the dream, knowing full well that when the eye and mind are open to the waking world, that logic will invariably dissolve away to the whims of reality, as quickly as the devastatingly shattering effect of Thanos’ merciless finger snap??…

…all these things considered, before the ‘logic’ of director Cosmotropia de Xam’s surreal and dreamlike “Phantasmagoria” makes it’s own abruptly sharp turn to Wacky Land (…and in watching this one, it will…oh-h-h yes, it will), let’s get linear, shall we??...

…Dianne Cooper (Rachel Audrey), a small-time investigative reporter for equally small-time stateside radio station KRAK, has been assigned to fly out to the gloomy and harrowing town of Lodz, Poland, to check out some reportedly strange and mysterious goings on, which have occurred, and continue to occur there. Her arrival is met with little-to-no fanfare or reception, and in fact, the village itself…save for a less-than-handful of rudely discouraging and oddly behaving residents in the background…proves little more than a decrepit & broken down, weathered & abandoned, almost seemingly war-torn ghost town. The only real lively soul in this musty, broken-down rain-drenched town…initially unbeknownst to Dianne…a darkly garbed waif of a girl (Mari K), covertly snapping pictures of Dianne from a distance…from behind corners…from the shadowy darkness of crusty spattered apertures and doorways…

…upon further investigation of the town, Dianne becomes more and more suspicious of an unseen, albeit growing and underliningly sinister presence…festering, and continuing to gnaw away at the town, and it’s scant remaining residents. possibly as the result of an undetermined contamination, instilled either by some natural disaster…or perhaps something wholly supernatural. These suspicions are given even further validation, when Dianne has several direct encounters with this strange unnamed girl…appearing sickly, and in the throes of unspeakable delusions which suggest that there is some monstrous ‘beast’ that has indomitably plagued, and continues to haunt the town…the site of which may have once been a dark, cursed forest, according to reports and visions…

…the stricken girl, seemingly dedicated and…like a watcher…claiming personal ownership and responsibly to the observations and ensuing documentation of the town’s demise and waning population…hence, the thousands of hastily procured photos of missing townsfolk in her possession, which Diane becomes privy of, in the course of her investigation…stutteringly warns Diane to abandon her investigation, and leave the area…especially the hotel where Dianne was staying, which according to the girl, might well be the direct epicenter of the surrounding evil presence…

…further driven to the investigation, despite the warnings, Dianne dedicates herself to trying to help the girl, in hopes of revealing more details on the seemingly ghastly horrors that have ensued. In the midst of this macabre and mysterious sleuthing, Dianne becomes invariably caught up in the mysterious girl’s delusions, which culminates in testing her own sense of logic, reasoning and sanity…inaugurates her into strangely compelled witness and participation in demonic possession…and applicably privies her on an old and tragic tale of two sisters…a malevolent, evil-invoking nun, and her enslaved, helplessly blind sibling…

…with the relentlessly dark scourges of her dreams, visions and reality…melding, and driven onto an unavoidable collision course, will Dianne escape the harrowing horrors and malevolence, surrounding her?? Or are monstrous and demonic meanderings of history & legend converging, and about to repeat themselves??...

…the premise in itself…most compelling, to be sure. However, imagine these macabre proceedings, having been filtered through a perversely disjointed and darkly imaginative dreamscape. Where disturbingly arcane and interwoven visions prove as equally contagious and contorting as the cursed plague, which has deliberately stricken the hapless little village in this story. Where a liberal measure of stylized blasphemy, ably serves to magnify the harrowing tragedy and already unspeakable horrors that ensue herein. And yet, as a wholly unique and unconventional film experience, where all of this…reasonable or not, logical or not…plays out as an inescapable dream state norm, in the sense of that ‘norm’ being sacrilegiously repellent, yet irresistibly captivating…

…but then, it seems this is how director Cosmotropia de Xam rolls…daring the viewer to look away…wanting to disturb...but like that darkly alluring, seductive and persuasive dream, that nonetheless one cannot help the overwhelming longing to be willingly and inescapably drawn back to…well, plain and simple, you just ain’t lookin’ away from this one…

…alluding back to the previously noted notion of things occurring in “Phantasmagoria”, in much the same way as a dream might suggest, in the sense that whatever does happen, no matter how direct or trivial, makes perfect sense and logic…to that effect, the whole film itself seems to play out like a dreamy, or should we say ‘nightmarish’ found footage entry, yet there’s no suggestion of a camera operator accompanying the investigative reporter Dianne, video-documenting the outrageous proceedings as Diane describes (…can’t help but ask…is she actually doing this on her own?). But like the kind of dream which many of us might engage, that all-seeing, albeit non-specific point of view…focused on Dianne, as well as the events that unfold…well, that might well be a detached facet of Dianne herself (…except of course, when the point of view of the suggested ‘beast’ is initiated, by way of a sort of distorted and discolored, fish-eye lens), or more than likely, such a voyeuristic point of view is meant to suggest us, the capture viewers on this macabre excursion…or should we say ‘dreamers’…

…but that presumed and literary ‘fantasy versus reality’ aspect of the film hardly stops there, as multiple moments like this, permeate the storyline…the strange girl photographer, taking pictures of an unaware Dianne, sometimes within clear sight and close proximity of her, within clear sound of the camera’s shutter click itself…a blind search through a room, lined with rows upon randomly strung rows of linen, and the whole scene de-vowed of all sound, save for a strange, ear-shattering electrical arcing…the notion that our investigative reporter Dianne, out of nowhere, picks up Bible & rosaries, and proceeds to perform an exorcism…the interesting choice of gas masks (…an old WWII gas mask, which when donned, looks almost nightmarishly organic, as if it would pulsate with a life of it’s own), in a pivotal moment, suggesting that a gas mask should be worn, to avert whatever has contaminated the town…or even the notion that, before boarding the plane to Poland, Dianne stops at a convenience store for something to drink, and without missing a beat, pulls down a bottle of Pursill liquid laundry detergent, with this seemingly awkward moment having an accompanying laugh track in the background…

…but again…within the confines of this cinematic dreamscape…not matter how outrageous the behavior…no matter how illogically skewed the moment…all of this and more, is meant to make perfect sense, from the point of view of us, the viewers…or rather, the ‘dreamers’…

…although they may be considered waverly, simple and telegraphed in the initial onset of viewing this rather bizarre and unconventional film (…an understatement)…from the point of view of the dream aspect that comprises “Phantasmagoria”, the performances of both Rachel Audrey, as Dianne, and Mari K., as the stricken girl of mystery, are nonetheless genuinely engaging, rather than off-putting (…though, you’ll still be scratching your head, asking ‘where the hell they’re going with this’)…more so with Mari K’s mesmerized and possessed character…wading helplessly through a harrowing situation, where she has little control over her behavior and faculties…in favor of something, or some thing that’s coercing her every move, despite her objections…a puppet, for lack of a better term…once again, kind of like what one would expect in a dream. Her words of warning and caution, stuttered and seemingly forced, as if some invasive entity is contorting and preventing her desired speech, just enough to make whatever she’ trying to say, seem vague and incoherent…

…upon having noted the artfully incomprehensible parlance and fervor of “Phantasmagoria”, it almost seems that director Cosmotropia de Xam has inspirationally tapped into that wholly twisted and ethereal ‘other-world’, which had often been previously resourced by the likes of early David Lynch (…of whom the film does afford appreciative thanks), early Ken Russell…even that of the cryptically skewed and provocative stylings of E. Elias Merhige (…remember ‘Begotten’??), and Damon Packard, of ‘Reflections of Evil’ fame. It’s the kind of film which alluringly and underliningly beckons…for some, perhaps a demand of multiple viewings…despite outward aversion and resistance. Heck, at the very least, it took this blown-away reviewer multiple dizzying viewings, just to make any sort of heads or tails of the film…to achieve some semblance of interpreted and speculated meaning to the proceedings, as defined and presented herein by the film’s director…

…is “Phantasmagoria” a good film?? Well…that’s difficult to say. A bad film, perhaps?? Well…equally difficult to say. Anything in-between?? Truth be known, it would be more accurate to say that “Phantasmagoria” defies that whole spectrum...eschews such petty and generalized profiling. The film…well, it is what it is…at the very least, a film experience unlike any other…made all the more an unnerving and uncomfortable watch, with the addition of the melodically frenetic soundtrack, composed and performed by Mater Suspiria Vision, a Euro-flavored music group personally gathered and supervised by Cosmotropia de Xam, and which specializes in a rather unique and unconventional brand of moody and atmospheric, arcane-sounding industrial rock/pop music compositions...

…considering all that’s been comprehensively covered and examined thus far…but, sense or no sense...logical or incomprehensible...I still cannot help but quote actor William Hurt’s character, in the 1983 dramatic character study, “The Big Chill”, who said, “…you're so-o-o analytical!! Sometimes you just have to let...art...flow over you.” In other words...probably not best to over-think this one...just experience it; after all, right from the start, the film suggested that it was based upon a story, called 'The Omen Complex', as written by Sue R. Lism...

...you wouldn't believe the length of diverted and unnecessary sleuthing I went through, before I finally got that clever little quip...and thusly smacked my forehead deftly with my palm, afterwards. Ah, me...sigh...tsk, tsk, tsk.....

(Limited Release, via Phantasma Disques)


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Movie Review: "House of Forbidden Secrets" (2013; Extreme Entertainment/Unearthed Films)

(…might wanna kick your feet up, an’ stay a spell…this one’s gonna be a mutha’, to wade through…but well worth the read, you can be sure…)

…ahem!! More than often enough, in reviewing genre films…especially those which engage even the quickest ‘wink-wink’ moments of nostalgia and throwback…this reviewer genuinely wishes that he had a deftly installed switch in the back of his head…an ‘on/off’ switch, which would ably disconnect the genre film geek part of his brain…yes, that dark, damp and cobwebbed corner of the mind that’s stuffed to the gills with even the most obscure trivia information about the countless cult & genre films he’s watched, and all the equally obscure settings, dialogue, storylines, actors, and characters played by those actors. That way, when an inspired filmmaker feels the necessity to exude those aforementioned ‘moments of nostalgia’ in a film…maybe perhaps dwelling on them more than need be…this ‘fright film fan’ could instead concentrate on the virtues and greatness of the film itself, and not be distracted by the cute little, chuckle-inducing ‘hey, isn’t that…??’ elbow nudges to the rib cage, which for all intent and purpose, at the very worst, might have been put there to merely help ‘sell’ the film…

…hey don’t get (me) wrong…I do appreciate those moments…but again, sometimes they tend to distract, and even take away from the overall mood and atmosphere of a film, depending upon the film…those ‘hey, lookie here!!’ moments, which often enough, prove ill-used, and invariably become wasted opportunities…

…OK, now hold that thought, at least for a moment…leave it simmer on the back burner…we’ll get back to it, soon enough, ‘kay??...

…uh, setting the way-back machine to circa late ‘80’s, who out there remembers flipping through the latest issue of Fangoria, or for the more maverick rag readers, the pages of Psychotronic Video?? Flipping past the mainstream articles, and scrutinizing those back pages of barely readable, 18-word classified ads, or on the rare occasion, those big ol’ colorfully splashy (…read ‘dripping with shades of heavy crimson, and slime green’) full page ads, offering…for an ‘eh’ moderate price…some of the most outrageous, albeit irresistible movie titles on good ol’ VHS tape, unheard of anywhere?? Anyone uncontrollably salivate over the deliciously icky and gruesome prospects of titles like “The Bloody Video Horror That Made Me Puke on My Aunt Gertrude”?? Remember “Bloodthirsty Cannibal Demons”?? “Sorority Babes in the Dance-a-thon of Death”, anyone?? How about “Robot Ninja”, huh?? “The Dead Next Door”?? And leave us not forget the insane and outrageous likes of “Prehistoric Bimbos in Armageddon City”, “Skinned Alive”, “I Spit on Your Corpse, I Piss on Your Grave”, and “Chickboxer”. Lucky for us insatiable gorehounds at the time…all the aforementioned and countless more, proudly & shamelessly ground out and put out there by underground distributors, like E.I. Entertainment, Suburban Tempe, SRS Video, and Video Outlaw…

…and ‘ground out’ is probably the more astute and poignant description, as just thinking back on these deliciously rendered gore-fests, this reviewer cannot help but recall dear ol’ Mom’s rusty, cast iron meat grinder, clamped to the kitchen cutting board, and grinding out that pick, fleshy-colored bologna spread sandwich meat, peppered with…well, bits of red pepper. Hey, as the old saying goes, ‘…meat is meat, and a man’s gotta eat’; the same can be said, as far as us appreciative, no-budget, shot-on-home-video movie gorehounds, especially during the late ‘80’s and early ‘90’s…we, who would often snub our noses at the latest generic, cookie-cutter, assembly-line, big-screen mainstream horror flicks…bland, and relatively bloodless (…ah, golly gee whiz…not another Freddy or Jason flick)... that is, as compared to these wonderfully depraved, over-the-top, gore-slicked underground renegade cinema cheapies…

…(…uh, to the point, ‘frightfilmfan’…to the point!!)

…during that time, skilled, inspired and able bodied maverick filmmakers like J.R. Bookwalter, Donald Farmer, Mike Stanley, Joe Castro, and David DeCouteau were stamping out delectable chunks of micro-budgeted cinema…long on story concepts, and short on production values & special effects, even though these latter minimizing and economical attributes were often times part of the ‘charm’ of these films. And proudly, or perhaps shamelessly standing tall above the rest…daring to dethrone the likes of George Romero, Herschel Gordon Lewis…even the ‘godfather of gore’ himself, Lucio Fulci…there was the ultimate, grand pooh-bah master gore-meister of cheap horror cinema, amongst the hallowed motley crew of independent filmmakers listed above...you guessed it, folks…Mr. Todd Sheets…

…what interesting about Todd’s body of work (…leaving the vast filmography to you readers…that’s what IMDB is for, right??), especially his earlier stuff…say, the window between the mid ‘80’s, and just short of the millennial turn…is that, for the most part, it seems his approach to the horror genre was actually not all that far removed from that of classic ‘70’s porno films, in the sense that, instead of lingering explicit sex scenes, the lingering focus was on the economically rendered, albeit quite splashy gore effects…which, for us die-hard gore fans at the time…hey, there was aba’solu’bly nuttin’ wrong wit’ dat’!! And like those classic ‘70’s pornos, which entertained and lightened things up with an engaging storyline to thread together the enticing and explicit ‘bump ‘n’ grind’ moments…Todd’s no-budget horror flicks gave us similar ‘breather’ moments as well, unravelling some pretty damn cool story ideas, and even often times mixing up the genres, a bit…

…zombies (…especially)…and vampires…and demons…and werewolves…oh, my…and every other supernatural entity under the sun…nary a genre was left untouched by Todd, but what made things more intriguing, storywise…that is, once you gleefully squeegee-slicked the gore from your eyeballs, and look past the basics…was that he would throw in an unexpected ‘wrench in the works’, to shake things up…a little government/military conspiracy, perhaps…some feral/survivalist street gang interaction, to be sure…a smidgen of drug-induced DNA cross-breeding, shall we. How about embracing a bit ‘o’ time travel, for good measure?? And the eyeball-rolling, chuckle-inducing nods to other films, both within the pronounced genre, as well as outside the genre…well, those are exhausting and countless, in Todd’s brand of filmworks…

…(…uh, just where the hell are you going with this, Beutler…sigh??)…

…OK, for the most part, the varied acting in Todd’s films was sub-standard…sometimes even less than that…and the overall production values were bottom-of-the-barrel…but hey, this was all forgivable, negligible, and all part of the charm, amidst this particular brand of renegade cinema from filmmakers like Todd…the whole of which clearly looked like it was approached that way…in rampant, unlicensed, renegade, maverick, guerrilla fashion…hey, just get the shot, and run like hell. And for us devoted fans…well, did we care?? Oh, hell no!! Just liberally splash us with the gore, Niagara Falls style, and we’ll shower later, ‘kay??...

…but then…hey, people have to grow up, sometime…right?? Point in case…

…Jacob Hunt probably can’t help but letting loose an inner sigh of relief; trying to get his life back on the straight path, he finally gets past the job application approval process, and meets with the building superintendent of the Shadow View Towers, a converted commercial office building, where he would dutifully assume the post of night security. Soon after having been given the cook’s tour by the building’s maintenance attendant, Jacob is introduced to some of the evening’s remaining tower’s office residents, which at that time, was restricted to a small group of people, preparing to conduct a séance, for the purpose of contacting a departed relative…

…despite being creepily put off by the intended arcane proceedings, Jacob is nonetheless talked into participating in the séance by Cassie and Hannah…the two attractive, albeit darkly garbed hosts of the group, who are leading the gathering through the séance proceedings…a group which included a local television crew, assigned to cover a televised story on Cassie and Hannah’s unique and arcane business activities…

…when, during the séance, sudden unnatural and unexplained phenomenon take place in the ensuing proceedings, it becomes clear to everyone…especially Jacob…that the expectations of the séance clearly took a sharp turn towards something more sinister, and that the supernatural happenings gave cause for the event to be shut down. After having escorted certain members of the session to their vehicles, Jacob returns to his duties…only to find that the night’s attending residents of the building, not to mention witnesses to the séance, having disappeared, one by one…only to be later found, either brutally slaughtered and disemboweled, or sauntering silently in the darkness, in a menacing, zombified state…

…quickly, and with fearful desperation…coordinating with Cassie, and checking video surveillance footage, in an effort to find out what could possibly be going wrong, Jacob finds himself right smack in the middle of unearthly evil and sinister forces taking place; an ethereal door, separating reality from a dark and hellish nightmare fantasy, appears to have been opened, unleashing a cadre of demons, bent upon enacting a decades-old vengeance from beyond the grave…and at the center of this seemingly indomitable whirlpool of evil incarnate and gore-drenched death…the ghost of a corrupt and revenge-driven priest, as well as the unveiled sinister history of Shadow View Towers, as it once was, decades before…

…now, being an eagerly awaiting and devoted fan of Todd Sheets, recalling as far back as his early filmmaking days, this reviewer was understandably put off at having not seen anything from the guy, after the turn of the century, thinking that perhaps he’d taken early retirement, or had just given up filmmaking altogether; later, it was suggested and confirmed that his hiatus from filmmaking was, for the most part, due to near-fatal health reasons. Regardless, as the old saying goes, ‘absence does make the heart grow fonder’, and news of the pending ‘House of Forbidden Secrets’ production, with Todd back at the helm (…with this review of “House…” herein, being five years or so tardy, as Todd has since gone on to even bigger and greater acclaimed productions, like 2016’s “Dreaming Purple Neon”, 2017’s well-received werewolf flick, “Bonehill Road”, and as of this review, he’s just putting the finishing touches on his much-anticipated entry in the ‘killer clown’ sub-genre, called “Clownado”) was quite literally deemed a gift to his fans. And a ‘gift’ it was, as “House of Forbidden Secrets”, up to that time, proved not only one of Todd’s best films to date, but one of his most accomplished, and most mature…

…with the film lovingly and respectfully dedicated to the late, great Lucio Fulci, Todd’s visual approach to “House…” was not only an inspired and brilliant marriage between his own unique style and Fulci’s, but overall, the look of the film very nicely captures a good measure of the very essence of late ‘70’s/early ‘80’s Italian cinema, as a whole, and yet the film itself still manages to play out a distinct wardrobe of it’s own diverse and singular identity…being it’s own ‘animal’, so to speak…rather than assuming some kind of knock-off or copycat. Oh, those brilliantly cool and eerie color contrasts…the battered ‘ruins’ of a grave-like unearthly underground, obscured by modern-day contemporary structure…the sepia shaded flashbacks…the hollow, blacken-eyed living corpses, that just creepily stand there, heads bowed, bodies shifting slowly, disconcertingly left to right and back again (…that is of course, until once gets too close)…the inescapably grim conclusions…all that and more, proving quite clever, inspired and respectful nods towards classic Italian horror. And in further exuding and adding to that style and inspiration, viewers should note that that Todd actually managed to port the eerie and haunting musical talents of acclaimed composer Fabio Frizzi for the soundtrack of his film…Frizzi, who’s own contribution to the chillingly melodic sounds of classic Italian horror cinema, to this day, remains but one music-masterful yardstick, by which many others are still measured…in effect, a great collaboration…

…and yet, surprisingly enough, the one Fulci-inspired element which…even as far back as many of Todd’s early visceral and graphic efforts…it appears that herein, he seems to have held back a certain measure...but not too much...is the gore effects. Not that there aren’t any effective and startling special effects moments in “House of Forbidden Secrets”…no siree, Bob!! (…a chorkle here, for those who get it!!). Why, there’s entrail-stringing body-halvings, and face-rippings and decapitations a-plenty here, amongst other icky moments of gore-dripping mayhem…hey, don’t think for a moment that ol’ Todd’s gotten soft. However, unlike much of his earlier work, for the most part, he doesn’t overly dwell upon these moments, this time; though quite striking and unnerving, the effects in “House…” seem more restrained, in favor of letting the overall style, story and performances assume equal, if not prominent interest, intrigue and focus. And for a film like “House…”, this approach genuinely made for a much better film…

…as far as ‘performances’, the standouts in this lil’ bitty horror excursion…we have Antwoine Steele…a regular in Todd Sheets’ film repertoire…as our hapless security guard, Jacob, who…well, he’s the one for us to relate to, in a sense…cautious, but curious…and probably just naïve, vulnerable and willing enough to stick the big toe out there, to test the waters…but perhaps not quite savvy enough to back the truck up, when the shit really hits the fan. And there’s Nicole Santorella, as the darkly attractive psychic medium, Cassie…the single mother, with a sort of shoulder-shrugging attitude of ‘…eh, it’s a living’ attitude, as far as her chosen and rather unconventional vocation…and who in having found herself the convenient, albeit inadvertent channel for releasing the evil forces that plague the tower residents, fearfully finds herself alternately repelled at the ghastly proceedings that ensue, yet also compelled and irresistibly drawn into the phenomenon…

…for a Todd Sheets’ film, a good part of the supporting cast will illicit some genuine surprise, delight…and in some regrettable instances…well, let’s just say unnecessary distraction from the gripping atmospheric chills that “House…” has to offer. Genre favorite Lew Temple (…last best seen as Psycho-Head, in Rob Zombie’s “31”) is onboard here, as our less than virtuous albeit blood-thirsty & vengeful  priest, Elias, who is responsible for kicking things into high gear, as far as the unspeakable horrors that unfold. George Hardy is unmistakenly spot-worthy (…and “Troll 2” has way too infamous a reputation, for ol’ George not to be recognized here) as Bruce, the building superintendent…even going so far as to spout a famous movie line of his. Ari Lehman (…yes, that’s right…lil’ dinghy-tipping Jason himself, from the original ‘Friday the 13^th’) clocks in for a quick cameo, and then…gone…WHOOSH!! Actress Dyanne Thorne…ultra-rarely seen since her ‘70’s exploitation days as ‘Ilsa’, still manages to illicit a venomous air of alluring malevolence and villainy, as Greta, the madam of a covert house of ill-repute, which directly plays into the film’s macabre proceedings. And last, but not least…not to mention, managing to freakin’ break up the progressively intensifying intrigue and tension, abounding herein, a cameo by the riotous Lloyd Kaufman, as an alky-sloshed and ranting grandfather, here doing the ‘entertaining grandfather’ thing right, in babysitting his granddaughter…at least, ‘right’ in the eyes of us fright film fans…

…ya’ know?? Once again, in further noting and doting over Todd Sheets films, this reviewer feels that in his devotion and embrace of the horror film genre, part of what has greatly enriched his overall appreciation of the genre, is having taken Todd’s deliciously visceral films into that fold…and although, much like disco (…yes, yes...sigh...I was a minority of one, amongst my peers, in embracing disco, back in the day; we all have our faults, right??), one can watch Todd gore-drenched brand of films, only so long…though, admittedly, again like disco, this fright film fan does blow the dust off Todd's blood-slicked lot, from time to time. The good thing about this…with regards to “House of Forbidden Secrets”, Todd has wonderfully achieved a freakin’ awesome balance between his visceral style, and his ability as a director to tell a story & create atmosphere. It’s a film that might well play best for those unfamiliar with Todd’s work, as well as those seeking out a great example of accomplished, albeit under-the-radar, independent horror cinema…that is, without getting one’s slickers too slick and saturated with the gooey stuff…

…for the more seasoned horror buffs…well OK, maybe the cameos and moments of nostalgia do take away from the scares, the atmosphere and the more gruelling moments in the film, a bit; that hardly explains why this fright film fan has…well, let’s just say that, despite how long the film has been available, I’ve watched it almost as many times as any Fulci flick...eh, go figure, right??...

...nope, ain't nuttin' ta' see here...nuttin' ta' see.....uh, WHAT?? Are you freakin' kidding me??

(NOTE: ...this review is primarily based upon the content of the original crowdfunded Blu-ray, issued back in 2013; with great reception and applause, the film has since been picked up by Unearthed Films)...

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Movie Review: Won't You Be My Neighbor? (2018; Tremolo Productions/Focus Features)

…speaking for this reviewer, though I’m sure that many folks out there may agree…ya' know?? It’s a crying shame sometimes, this thing we call ‘growing up’…

…as children, we are so innocently impressionable…naively coercive…easily convinced, without questioning. We’d soak up information, faster than a sponge, and at the same time, took things at absolute face value, ‘cause of course, there was no way that the elders and parental guidance around us, who in our eyes were the all-encompassing epitome of wisdom, love and knowledge, would exude anything false…not withstanding of course, at such a young, tender and unassuming age, that the concept of lies and falsehoods were even considered, as such behaviors are learned, rather than inherited. Yes, without question, God was ‘up there’ in the starry heavens, looking down upon our every move…..Santa somehow managed to get those presents under the tree, every year without fail, even if a chimney wasn’t evident for use…..that discarded tooth, placed dutifully under the pillow, will magically transform into a quarter, the next morning…..at a certain time when Mommy kisses Daddy, a cloud-perched angel tells the stork, who flies down from Heaven, leaves a diamond under a leaf in the cabbage patch, and soon after, the diamond turned into a baby…

Movie Review: Colour Correct My Cock (2015; Vagrancy Films)

…the whole lot of genre movie trailer compilations, much like the trailers themselves, has always been a mixed bag of sorts, as far as the really good ones, intermingled with the ho-hum ones. Invariably, the best ones out there, are the few and far between which genuinely go the extra mile, as far as special…even unconventional presentation, for lack of a better term, rather than merely juggling the same old mix of weathered, well-worn and oft-seen trailers. When this reviewer, and long-since devoted genre movie trailer collector, first succumbed to the collector’s allure of those eye-popping, albeit quickly digestible movie condensations…often which were cleverly edited, in so much as the trailers, in most cases, was genuinely better than the full-length feature films themselves…the prime go-to source for these eclectic compilations was the likes of people not unlike that of the late Mike Vraney’s Something Weird Video, with their enticing and exploitative trailer collection titles (…liberally rendered in a sort of random, hither-tither, maverick junk-food fashion, including some deliciously psychedelic VHS box art, to boot), including the ‘Dusk ‘til Dawn Drive-In Trash-o-rama Show’…the ‘Shiver and Shudder Show’ (…Ooooo!! Ske-e-e-elly!!)…the hippie-crazed Johnny Legend-hosted ‘Bikers, Blondes and Blood’…the equally insane, dy-no-mite & ‘outta sight’ rapper/hipster/gangsta’ meanderings of host Rudy Ray Moore, in ‘Afros, Macks & Zodiacs’. And who couldn’t possibly keep from salivating uncontrollably over the down ‘n’ dirty prospects suggested in Vraney’s over-the-top ‘Blood-o-rama Shock Show’, featuring a promised ’50 Brain Slurpin’ Guts ‘n’ Gore Movie Trailers from the ‘60’s & ‘70’s…Oh, yum!!!...