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Book Review: The Quality of Mercy

Published June 3, 2016 by biggayhorrorfan

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Who knew the voice of Satan could be so sweet? Indeed, Academy Award winning actress Mercedes McCambridge, best known to terror stalwarts for providing the ghoulish vocal pyrotechnics of the demon in The Exorcist, writes with enormous beauty and supreme self awareness in her 1981 memoir The Quality of Mercy: An Autobiography.

Nicely, McCambridge, a versatile veteran of live radio, spends an entire chapter describing how she came up with the various signature sound pieces that made William Friedkin’s seminal shocker so potently creepy. (If you thought Regan’s onscreen vomiting was hard to take, the image of McCambridge spitting up raw eggs into a cup for the sound effect is liable to make your stomach a mite queasy, as well.) McCambridge also relates her heartache upon realizing she hadn’t, initially, received screen credit for her work and describes the efforts taken to make sure she received it. (Note: In Friedkin’s 2013 memoir he relates a different story, that McCambridge, at first, had insisted on no screen credit to help supply a sense of atmosphere to the film.)

As an unexpected bonus, the husky voiced actress also relates her joy upon working with Boris Karloff in a vampire piece for the radio. She, gleefully, recounts how, behind the scenes, life savers were chomped on to create the illusion that her character’s neck was being snapped.mercedes 99

Perhaps, not unsurprisingly, McCambridge’s tome, occasionally, deals with the often devastating effects of religion on women. Taught to fear an all powerful being, she strains to find her own voice and live a liberated and creative life. She is haunted by her two divorces and recounts, in frightening detail, how she assisted a childhood friend in procuring an illegal abortion.

She also, honestly, recounts her struggles with alcoholism and, with the sweeping curtness of a master storyteller, recalls her activism and her personal relationships, that she hints might have contained flickers of romance, with such powerful figures as politician Adlai Stevenson and master showman Billy Rose.

Euro-buffs, meanwhile, will get a kick out of her non-mention of exploitation maestro Jess Franco. Franco’s 99 Women, the WIP flick that features a boisterously accented performance from McCambridge, is brushed off as an unnamed, nonessential entry in her filmography here.

Thankfully, McCambridge, whose career seemingly suffered due to her visible efforts to link a popular face to the rigors of addiction, comes off as completely singular and absolutely worthy of the cinema fan’s eternal (and loving) recall.

Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!

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Hell of a Gal: My Dear Killer (1972)

Published May 28, 2016 by biggayhorrorfan

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(Hell of a Gal explores the films of the ever luscious Euro Vixen Helga Line.)

It’s always nice to introduce a new color into one’s wardrobe for hire. In fact, even the irreproachable Helga Liné turned her back on the villainous seductresses and medieval monsters that she was best known for with her appearance in the rock solid giallo My Dear Killer.MDK1

As the confused (yet surprisingly calm) Mrs. Paradisi, Liné does her best to assist George Hilton’s determined detective as he investigates the brutal murder of her common law husband. Adding glimmers of humor and classic world weariness to their conversations, our deductive damsel eventually sets out to retrieve a clue from a post box that may provide the identity of the killer. Alas, even though she is surrounded by other customers, Liné is strangled to death by a quick moving assailant, allowing the film’s mysteries to proceed to full boil.

Hilton’s Inspector Peretti soon realizes that Mr. Paradisi had discovered the identity of the killer of a young girl and her father in a kidnapping scenario gone wrong and he is soon giving investigative chase to others who may lead him to the murderer. Naturally, each meets a particularly gruesome end. Especially notable is the savage annihilation of the young girl’s former school teacher, played with saucy bravado by gorgeous Euro-regular Patty Shepard.

MDK2What is, perhaps, most notable about this entry, though, is director Tonino Valerii’s hard boiled take. He provides a slightly more realistic edge to the film’s outrageous acts of violence and twisted turns of plot, setting My Dear Killer a step or two above other black gloved entries of that era. Nicely, his efforts gave Hilton, best known then for sex comedies, a new lease on life, career-wise, and, even more importantly for viewers such as myself, allowed the world to see an established actress like Liné in an entirely different light.

Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan

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Review: Mike Mother

Published May 27, 2016 by biggayhorrorfan

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Add a dash of Joyce Carol Oates style mystery to the Neo-Futurists’ regular blend of theater games, performance art and personal story telling and you’ve got a good take on their current production, Mike Mother. Not surprisingly, the title’s close parallel to Marsha Norman’s Pulitzer Prize winning play ‘night, Mother is also explored in full measure by writer-performer Jessica Anne who, simultaneously, seems to embrace and mock that popular play as she explores her own relationship with her mother here.

That relationship is surrounded by death and deception and, even though the Neo-Futurists are noted for their truthful accounting, the show’s primary strength lies in the gothic vagaries involved with this particular story. As Jessica Anne admits, with a smirk, she’s “evolved” and one is never quite sure what is fantasy or fact here – a tantalizing proposition that allows the piece to stick in your mind for days afterward.

Granted, the final moments involve a bit more self-indulgent introspection than most Neo-Futurists shows, but Jessica Anne still emerges as one of the most interesting performers in the Chicago theater scene. She is ably backed up by actor Mike Hamilton, the Mike of the title, as they explore her past and invite an audience member or two on the stage to share theirs, as well. Director Josh Matthews and scenic designer Erik Newman also contribute, grandly, with specific focus applied to the production’s centerpiece, a beautiful white bathtub, which is used to splashy effect here.

Mike Mother runs through June 4th at The Neo-Futurarium, 5153 N. Ashland in Chicago. Further information is available at www.neofuturists.org.

Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!

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Music to Make Horror Movies By: Connie Stevens

Published May 22, 2016 by biggayhorrorfan

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Someone lend this lady a comb! The delicious Connie Stevens has been knocking fans cold for generations. But, while afternoon movie lovers have thrilled to her screams in the 1965 drive-in classic Two on a Guillotine for decades now, many may not realize that Stevens, who also graced an existential episode of Tales from the Darkside, was also a chart topping teen, renowned for such hits as Sixteen Reasons. The re-release of her take on The Hank Williams Songbook also garnered positive vibes from the hardcore alt-country crowd, in recent years.

Here, her sweet and sensual take on I Couldn’t Say No, written by Carole King and Gerry Goffin, could apply to everything from that swarthy thug on the street to that irresistible carton of chocolate dabbed donuts at midnight. Enjoy!

Meanwhile, Connie is always merely a cricket’s chirp away at www.conniestevens.com.

Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!

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The Kold Killer Files

Published May 19, 2016 by biggayhorrorfan

Kold

Horror fans are always hungry for new content. Therefore, a free YouTube series like The Kold Killer Files is always welcome.

Be sure to check out the brand new trailer for the series and to subscribe to the official channel to get your fill of all sorts of macabre goodies in the near future.

Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!

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Music to Make Horror Movies By: Hoyt Axton

Published May 16, 2016 by biggayhorrorfan

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Decades before he entered an entire generation’s collective heart as the slightly flummoxed American benefactor of Gizmo in Gremlins, Hoyt Axton was already hanging out with the cool kids. His mother, Mae Boren Axton, was the co-writer of the popular Elvis number Heartbreak Hotel and, as a beloved songwriter and singer in his own right, his songs were covered by such personalities as Cher, Joan Baez, Arlo Guthrie and Three Dog Night.

Axton, whose other horror credits include Retribution and Buried Alive, was even joined by Linda Ronstadt on the beautiful and heart breaking Lion in the Winter, which was featured on his popular 1975 A & M album, Southbound.

Pretty enough to make a Mogwai cry, no?

Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!

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Screaming Queenz Podcast

Published May 13, 2016 by biggayhorrorfan

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You can gasp. You can shout. You can even loudly exclaim, but please leave the shrieking up to Screaming Queenz Podcast, the latest entry in horror talk with a homosexual bent. Described as “three gay guys and a token straight boy taking on the horror genre with a queer eye on the camp, the trashy and the downright scary”, this new audio adventure already has 9 episodes available for downloading.

Be sure to check them out here:

http://screamingqueenz.podbean.com/

Until the next time, SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!

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Review: Trash

Published May 6, 2016 by biggayhorrorfan

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You’d have to book a flight to Tampa Bay to catch a sight of former burlesque queen Chesty Morgan, the star of Doris Wishman’s iconic exploitation spy films Deadly Weapons and Double Agent 73. Lucky Chicagoans, though, need only travel to Wicker Park’s Den Theatre to earn a glimpse of Jinx Malibu, the fictional empress diva featured in the Rocket Pussy films, in New American Folk Theatre’s Midwest premiere of Trash.

Playwright Johnny Drago’s take on the Anna Nicole legacy and Tennessee Williams’ classic The Glass Menagerie finds a celebrity blogger arriving on the garbage laden doorstep of the reclusive Malibu. There he discovers Loogie, Malibu’s underwear clad oldest son, the crotchety Othermomma, Malibu’s sarcastic, domineering mother, and Smudge, Malibu’s dreamy yet sheltered daughter. Mistaking him for a Hollywood producer, Malibu and her family act out her deluded version of a comeback film. The horrified blogger plans to escape with the adventure seeking Smudge in tow, but the violence that has been lurking between the cracks of Drago’s setup eventually erupts with one of the cast members, in a moment worthy of an ‘80s slasher flick, reenacting the circumstances of Patsy Cline’s “I Fall to Pieces”, in graphic detail, in Jinx’s front yard.

Thankfully, director Derek Van Barham, who is immeasurably assisted by Clint Greene’s layered scenic design, highlights both the humor and the tension inherent in the lurid reality show circumstances on display here. He is helped, as well, by Anthony Whitaker’s commanding take on Jinx. Whitaker brings a sympathetic edge to the character’s most garish demands and is never less than compelling when on stage. Nicely, the divine Caitlin Jackson, known for her powerhouse portrayals of such icons as Bette Midler and Bette Davis, is allowed to show a more sensitive and hopeful side as Smudge, the show’s one true ray of light, while Kirk Jackson brings a nice sense of physicality and puppy dog energy to Loogie. Meanwhile, Carrie Campana fills Othermomma with a wisecracking weariness, a nice balance to Jamal Howard’s (momentarily) enthusiastic writer.

Trash runs through May 15th at The Den Theatre, 1333 N. Milwaukee in Chicago. More information is available at www.newamericanfolktheatre.org.

Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!

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R.I.P to a Friend

Published May 5, 2016 by biggayhorrorfan

joey doll

He was a fire breathing tattooed badass with a teddy bear core…and the only other horror lover who I knew that appreciated Lords of Salem as much as I did. He made me laugh. He could flare so quickly with anger at the smallest things – a confused ticket taker or a pokey clerk at a drugstore – that I would often find myself overcome with a case of the giggles. But his eyes would brim with honest tears at the smallest acts of kindness and his loyalty was as ingrained in his being as the artwork that decorated his body.

I, honestly, could never quite believe that he wanted to hang out with me. He wandered the city with a bathing suit wadded in his pocket and would sneak into 5 star hotels and use their pools. There were a couple of fine dining establishments that he would grace only to take a shit in their fancy bathrooms. His relationships were always colorful, often outrageous and occasionally bombastic.  I, meanwhile, despite various indiscretions over the years, have always felt mildly subdued – a little like the boy next door that I used to be, the kid that small town moms always dreamed that their daughters would date. I was always psychically pinching myself, feeling like I had won the momentary cool kid prize, while in his presence. The geek befriended by the fashionable outlaw, a clichéd movie plot point if there ever was one.joey annabelle

But everything always felt pretty cinematic when I hung out with Joey Kissling. On spring nights we’d bike down amber flared streets, side by side, his tiny speakers blaring out a selection of obscure dance cuts, a perfect soundtrack, as we talked about film and music and life and…death. He told me, months before his cancer diagnosis, that he felt time was closing in on him. And when the official sentence was passed down, he met it like he met the rest of his life – in his own unique manner.

He took off for California and attended concerts and drag shows and made new friends. He smoked and drank coffee and proved, beyond a doubt, that there will never be another like him. There is a missing piece in the swirling cosmos of single minded awesomeness now. Yes, others can and will be able to extol the virtues of death metal while simultaneously appreciating the grand color schemes of White Christmas, but none will do it with his vibrant commitment and pure love.

So, rest in peace, you crazy lord of darkness. I, and so many others, will miss you forever!

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…and until the next time (I see you)– SWEET love and pink GRUE, “your” Big Gay Horror Fan!

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Shark Bait Retro Village: The Screaming Woman

Published April 29, 2016 by biggayhorrorfan

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The leather lesbian nuns who raised me buried many a thing in that veiny backyard, behind our dungeon, as I grew up. But, I tell you every single one of those priests (and unrepentant Republican house speakers) truly deserved it!

The poor lady that Olivia de Havilland’s regal yet extremely frazzled Laura Wynant discovers submerged in the dirt in 1972’s The Screaming Woman definitely isn’t worthy of her fate, though. Left for dead by her cheating husband, this beleaguered lass has just hours to live and only the discredited Wynant can save her.SW1

As luck would (or wouldn’t) have it, the fragile Wynant has just recovered from a nervous breakdown and no one, including her loving son and a couple of kindly, longtime friends, believe her when she claims that she’s heard a woman moaning in the soil. A frantic race through the neighborhood uncovers only more derision and, in one of the telefilm’s tensest scenes, the arthritic Wynant even finds herself in the home of the very agitated wanna-be killer. Of course, Wynant’s venomous daughter-in-law Caroline, played with smooth iciness by Laraine Stephens, is pleased as punch about her mother-in-law’s apparent delusions as asylum doors slam and dollar signs dance, merrily, in her head.

SW2But Wynant, played with moxie and bravado by de Havilland, is nobody’s fool as Caroline and the killer, played with patriarchal sleaziness by genre stalwart Ed Nelson (Night of the Blood Beast, The Brain Eaters, A Bucket of Blood), soon discover. De Havilland’s anguished shriek (spoiler alert!) upon eventually rescuing the woman helped provide ‘70s television viewers with a potent shock and emphasizes the fact that this Oscar winning pro was an actress, through and through, no matter the circumstances or the part. In fact, The Screaming Woman’s prime pleasure is in watching de Havilland, passionately, submitting herself to the various indignities and insults that Wynant endures throughout this brisk exercise.

Interestingly, this effective Ray Bradbury tale was remade in 1986 with a 10 year old Drew Barrymore replacing de Havilland as the doubted party.

Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!

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