Space Wangs

The Arrival of Wang. I could’ve sworn that was the title of an adult movie I saw on PPV at a Bakersfield Motel 6™. Turns out it’s an Italian sci-fi movie with a space visitor calling himself Wang. (Good move – King Dong was already taken.)

So an Italian chick interpreter is bribed with big lira to use her Chinese(!) language skills on a top secret dealie in Rome. So far, so good. Until she discovers she has to try and communicate with an extraterrestrial being held in custody. Turns out Chinese is the preferred language of intergalactic travelers. I don’t know why, but this makes sense.

So what this chick interprets will not only screw up the big money being offered, but the future of Earth as well. I could care less about Earth, but I wanna know if she’ll do hold out for the fun coupons. She’d be a totally wang if she didn’t. In my book.

The Arrival of Wang does so in September. All you need to know is that he has a cool UFO, is reptile-y, and has octopus appendages. This means Wang can scratch his wang, pick his nose, text, and wave to victims all at the same time. Truly, an advanced species.

I totally heart Wang. OK, in America that sounds wrong. But in space, it would make sense.

The Shallow End of The Pontypool

Pontypool, a zombie horror movie that didn’t show any zombies, came out in 2009 and was met with almost universal rave reviews. That’s almost. After watching it, I concluded that everyone who liked it was wrong and I was right. But to be objective, I gave it two out of four stars. Heck, I even went back and watched it again to see what it was people were getting and I wasn’t. It still blew, so I stand by my overly generous two-star rating.

Now comes talk of Pontypool: Changes, a sequel,the horror news community abuzz with e-chatter after a poster turned up. My guess is that it’s a fan-made poster (as evidenced by the poor Photoshop handiwork). That, and the title is total Suck City. If and when, I shall dutifully review it for your pleasure, not mine.

Until that fateful day, here’s how the original Pontypool went off the tracks…

On a torrential snowy night, Grant Mazzy, a grizzled shock jock talk deejay, is grumbling his way into work, handling the graveyard shift on a small Ontario radio station. While he’d rather rant about government conspiracies, he has to read off school closures and equally important public service messages due to the fact his big fat mouth got him fired from a bigger station. Back to the minor leagues, bitch.

It isn’t long before reports of social discord (i.e., people ripping each other apart) are coming in from the “Sunshine Copter” (the station’s field reporter in his Dodge Dart™). Explosions are occurring, bodies are piling up, the citizens are going zombie ass crazy – and no one knows why. We never get to see this as Ken, the reporter, keeps calling in with breathless accounts of destruction and horror. Unable to confirm the story from anyone else, the station has no choice but to stay on the air and lock the doors.

A doctor, whose office was demolished, managed to escape and makes it to the radio station. And here is where Pontypool (named after the small town they’re in) slips on the ice. The doctor theorizes that it isn’t a tangible virus that’s turning people into hate zombies, it’s the mindless talk coming out of radios that’s doing it. (Interesting metaphor on today’s radio pundits spouting all their right-wing crap and inciting people to upheave all over themselves.)

This puts the station in a quandary – how do you warn people about what’s going on, if it’s their words that are infecting everyone? The radio station’s cute young producer supplies the movie’s only graphically bloody moment when she gets infected and starts repeating phrases and repeatedly bashing a studio glass window with her face. (A little Windex™ should clean that right up.) Oh, and she vomits up a bunch of gunk, too. Probably her stomach lining. I think I saw part of a Snickers Bar™ in there, too. Ick.

Mazzy and the doctor figure out that only the English language is gooning out the public. So they switch words around to convolute their meaning. (Yep, sounds like U.S. talk radio to me, too.) And still you see no zombies. The military is overhead, ready to go scorched earth on the lunatics, counting down to “le bomb” in French (in keeping with nonsensical word play).

The ending shows no explosion or bodies or loose heads or any more blood/candy bar vomiting. Shame – the face-bashing build-up was pretty good until the explanation. Then it all just seemed like word barf.

Zombie A-Hole

I knew zombies lacked certain social graces, but outside of them always wanting to bite my face off and eat what’s left of my brains, I wouldn’t necessarily call them a-holes. Apparently, someone thinks otherwise and has even made a horror movie titled Zombie A-Hole. (If you don’t know what an a-hole is, you’re either sitting on one or next to one.)

Described as “Planet Terror meets Sin City meets The Good The Bad & The Ugly” (meets all the daily recommended requirements of blood, boobs and Clint Eastwood), Zombie A-Hole looks to be the grind house flick of the year. And if you aren’t planning on having a zombie eat your face off, you can pick it up on DVD on August 21, 2012. (Amazon.com is taking pre-orders as we speak.)

Here’s what someone – and I don’t total rekall who – told me about the plot: “Zombies exist, and a whole underworld of nasty beings is hinted at. Need a little magik (that”s magic with a k) to help you out? No problem! Stop over at Voodoo Bob’s trailer and pick yourself up something nice. Shrunken heads? Hell, he’s got a whole shrunken man!”

“This is the story of a religious cowboy, a lost soul, and a beautiful grease monkey fixing to exact bloody vengeance on the same son-of-a-bitch. He’s a low-down, dirty, disgusting, depraved, sadistic, psychotic, hell bent, grade F, Zombie A-Hole and he ain’t gonna know what hit him!”

I heartily approve, though I think you’re being an a-hole if you spell magic with a “k.” It’s one of many things that bug the A outta my hole.

Ghost Chicks

Two independent girl-fronted ghost movies coming out about the same time. What are the odds? A lot, I would gasp at a crowded party. Then I would act shocked and slowly make my way toward the snacks. (God, I hope they have Cheez Whiz™ – that sh*t is yellow crack. I could spray it on your occasional pillows and then eat your occasional pillows, that’s how good it is.)

The first said spooktacular (heh) movie is called I Am A Ghost, and revolves around a chick/girl who may or may not be a ghost. I think she is, ergo the movie’s title. It’s based on the premise that “hauntings could possibly be nothing more than imprints in time, like fingerprints or scents.” (Ghost farts – heh.) As the filmmaker says, “It became an idea of a movie that wandered throughout a house following a ghost through the chick/girl’s memories.” I hope there’s more to it than that. Like panned shots of a room that has a platter of crackers and Cheez-Whiz™… Sorry.

The other polter-chick movie is Ghosted, a well-titled flick about a young gal who keeps dying (they don’t say how – probably from imitation petroleum-based cheese by-products), and then keeps coming back to life a few days later. Plenty of time to ransack her cupboards before she shows up and scares the Whiz outta you.

I don’t know when either scare-a-thon arrives for your viewing pleasure (guessing this year), so instead I’m going shopping for supplies in case someone invites me to their box social. It’s very ghost, uh, gauche to show up empty-handed. Unless you’re a ghost. Then both your hands are empty. Heh.

A New Werewolf Movie You’ve Already Seen

Even though highly-touted The Wolfman 2010 remake tanked (cost: $150 million, box office: $142 million), the upper management at Universal nevertheless green-lighted another lycanthopic movie: Werewolf: The Beast Among Us. And to ensure consistent mediocrity, it’s top-loaded with tried-and-true plot formulas. Man, I could totally be a film producer.

Let’s review: “A monstrous creature terrorizes a 19th Century European village by moonlight and a young man struggles to protect his loved ones from an unspeakable scourge.” (While it would be a nice change of pace to have the unspeakable scourge be a hobo with mouth sores, it’s cliched.)

“During his studies with the local doctor, Daniel witnesses the horrific consequences of werewolf attacks. Watching as the beast’s fearsome reputation draws bounty hunters, thrill seekers and charlatans to the tiny town, Daniel dreams of destroying the ruthless predator.” (Jaws with hair.)

A mysterious stranger and his team of skilled werewolf hunters arrive to pursue the monster. (How convenient, given that in order to be a skilled werewolf hunter, there would have to be enough of those hairy bastards running around for a guy to get proficient at killing them.) Daniel offers to join them, despite his mother’s protests. But it soon becomes clear that this creature is stronger, smarter and more dangerous than anything they have faced before.” (Werewolves are highly educated monsters.)

“As casualties mount and villagers see their neighbors transformed into ravening (egghead word – I would’ve said lung-ripping) monsters, the townsfolk take up arms against each other to find the true identity of the werewolf. Amid the hysteria, Daniel begins to suspect he’s closer to his target than he ever dreamed.” (Thanks for the plot spoiler – all signs pointed to mom from the get-go.)

Keep in mind I’m pre-disposed to werewolf movies. But with Universal’s track record (one/one), I’m a little reticent. (Man, I love those word-of-the-day calendars.)

Seance: Calling All Demons

Kids today, with their break dancing, hip-hopping and energy drinks… Pffft – in my day we held seances for fun. And it was wholesome fun, too. Nothing like talking with the dead to entertain the troops. And Seance: The Summoning, a new horror-esque thriller coming out on DVD sometime only the departed could divine, looks to bring back some sweet ass childhood memories.

So four college “kids” hold a seance in a city morgue and videotape it. Know what happens next? A demon pops up. And as we all know when dealing with demons, there is no escape. Best to just accept your fate and roll with it.

A few more details:

“When Joey (college kid #1) accuses Eva (a fraud medium) of being a fraud medium, she makes a bet that she can prove her ability to talk to the spirit world. Marcus (college kid #2) takes them to the city morgue, where he works, and decides to document the event for his thesis film, while Sara (college kid #3) tags along as Eva’s witness.”

“While setting up for the seance, Eva senses a dark spirit trying to break into our world. She tries to call it off, but Joey provokes her into continuing and the demon seizes his moment. Ancient, wise and bloodthirsty, he is a master manipulator and takes over Joey’s body, uncovering the dark secrets about his friends and turning them against each other. Their worse nightmare has just begun.”

Sounds like Wishmaster (1997), but with different college kids.

Holding a seance is not like summoning the beyond with a Ouija™ board, which is like texting the dead. A seance doesn’t require spelling skills. That, and you can’t push the little plastic gateway to evil around the damning field, which you just know someone is doing since there are multiple dirty fingers on the unholy game piece dictating answers from the Other Side. Nope, you gotta totally be in the moment for a seance, which involves low lighting, an easily blown out candle, a dark and stormy night, holding hands (yes, even two dudes), and trying to figure out what to do with whom/whatever you bring across the veil.

Or you could just get drunk and play Demon Titty Twister. Fun, but your soul will be in a lotta pain if you lose.

Tiktiks: Vampire Werewolf Thingamajigs

Dang gosh flippin’ heck. I went out and learned Chinese so that I could watch the new foreign horror movie Tiktik: The Aswang Chronicles, only to find out the ding dong thing is in Filipino. Double crap! Now I’m speaking at a college level in Chinese and don’t know where to use it. Somebody please tell me there’s a Chinese strip club around here.

Aswangs, as you know, are mythical creatures from Philippine folklore, reputed to be either a vampire, werewolf, or a yoghurt-smooth mixture of both. In Tiktik: The Aswang Chronicles, these vampwolf thingamajigs attack a house out in the woods (Dog Soldiers, cough), where a drunk (I can relate), his wife (he’d be better off alone with a sixer of the good stuff) and some other people who will provide sustenance for the Tiktiks during the course of the movie, which releases October 2012 if you give a tik.

The freakin’ irony of all this is now I know how to say “Tiktik” in Chinese. God hates me, I just know it.

Suicide Tree – Ripe For Picking

Hollow is an interesting word. It accurately describes every beer bottle I’ve ever sucked dry. Cans, too. Uncanny. (Heh.) It also describes the space between a lot of ears. And it’s the title of a Goth horror thriller, releasing third on video and VOD the week of September, 2012. (I don’t know what time of day. I hope that didn’t f’up your internal hollowness.)

Hollow is anything but: “An old monastery in a small, remote village in Suffolk, England that has been haunted by a local legend for centuries. Left in ruin and shrouded by the mystery of a dark spirit that wills young couples to suicide, the place has been avoided for years, marked only by a twisted, ancient tree with an ominous hollow said to be the home of great evil. When four friends on holiday explore the local folklore, they realize that belief in a myth can quickly materialize into reality, bringing horror to life for the town.”

I bet the “great evil” is an invisible fart spirit. Sorry – wishing out loud again. To do anything less would seem like such a…hollow…gesture. Heh.

Australian Horror Hole

Going into to tunnels often result in bad times for all involved. Sure, there are prisoners digging out of the Crossbar Hotel who will tell you otherwise. But from personal experience, every time I see a light at the end of the tunnel it’s headed straight toward me.

Which is why I may or may not watch the Australian found footage horror flick The Tunnel, finally releasing August 6, 2012, in the UK, the irony being that I’d probably have to take a subway once in London to see it the movies (or, as they say with pinky extended in Tunneland, “the theatre.”)

The Tunnel (not to be confused with The Tunnel, also known as Transatlantic Tunnel, a 1935 British science fiction film based on the 1913 novel Der Tunnel by Bernhard Kellermann, about the building of a transatlantic tunnel), which reads better than the trailer plays:

In 2007 the New South Wales government suddenly and inexplicably abandoned a project to recycle water found in the disused train tunnels beneath Sydney, despite being in the midst of serious drought.

In 2008, Natasha, an investigative journalist, is convinced of a government cover-up and descends into the subterranean labyrinth of the city – but as she hunts for their story, a much bigger story is hunting them.

Watch their harrowing ordeal, with unprecedented access to the recently declassified tapes shot in the claustrophobic subway tunnels. The never before seen footage takes us deep inside the tunnels, bringing the darkness to life and capturing the raw fear that threatens to tear the crew apart, leaving each one of them fighting for their lives against an unknown predator.

Intriguing. And yet, I need more, I don’t know, boobs, giant underground monsters (or giant boobs), way more screaming, blood-letting and the frequent and enthusiastic expression of curse words.

I may be letting myself in for a bummer. I mean, nothing good ever comes out of tunnels. Except criminals.

Nice Clothes: The Devil’s Paternity Suit

Here’s some news that’ll add some yipes to the stripes in your shorts: Rosemary’s Baby, a 1967 best seller and 1968 landmark horror movie with an ensemble cast that didn’t have Dracula in it (those snobs), is being released by The Criterion Collection. I know, right? Those guys always go through the archives with a fine-tooth toothbrush and top load the re-release with all sorts of bitchin’ cool extras. (I’d list ’em, but I’m kinda stinking drunk right now – thank you splecheck!)

Being released right in time for Halloween 2012, (the Christian holiday, not the overdone movie franchise), the Roman Polanski-directed film “stars a revelatory Mia Farrow as a young mother-to-be who grows increasingly suspicious that her over friendly elderly neighbors and self-involved husband are hatching a satanic plot against her and her baby. In the decades of occult cinema Polanski’s ungodly masterpiece has spawned, it’s never been outdone for sheer psychological terror.”

Apparently, they’ve never seen Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure (1985) on ’shrooms.

Just for splits ’n wiggles, I pulled up Rosemary’s Baby as a horror refresher, and, loaded on Budweiser and shiitakes, have this to say about it…

A young couple moves to New York where they can be close to all that big city life has to offer: music, the arts, fine dining, sex with the Devil…

Their 19th Century apartment building is loaded with devil-worshippers, even though they wear non-evil clothes ’n stuff. After sucking down some chocolate mousse thoughtfully brought over as a house-warming gift by said devil-worshippers, Rosemary, the young wife, passes out, only to wake up later, describing a horrible dream where she was knockin’ hooves with the Devil.

Couple weeks later shes pregnant. I took me a while to figure out who the father was. I don’t know why. Rosemary was chosen to bear the son of Satan for whatever reason. Couldn’t figure that out, either. And I’m still trying to find out the recipe for Pass Out Chocolate Mousse. Seems there’s money to be made there. The Devil stuff, though, is kinda corny, but effective. I don’t know why.