Not only do the best things come in the smallest packages, but it now appears, with the amazing advent of Angry Mule Productions’ Killer Piñata, that the deadliest do, as well.
The trailer for this should be horror epic has just been unleashed– and birthday parties, around the world, will never again be the same!
Be sure to keep up with the candied carnage at https://www.facebook.com/angrymule, as well.
Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!
DeHaven & Thompson
In her dual roles, hyphenate Ginny Glenn (described as a coroner, pathologist and biologist by various sources from within the film) and ageless woods hag Adrianna, DeHaven simply and authoritatively illiterates scientific jargon as the former and adds a sense of mysterious menace as the former. Still lushly attractive at 53, the flaming haired singer grounds the film’s outrageous occurrences with quiet dignity and honesty. A bit of Hollywood posing does leak in when Ginny’s romance with the local sawbones (Marshall Thompson – late of It! The Terror From Beyond) reaches its peak and as she Fay Wray’s it in the fish-beast’s arms during the final moments, but as a whole DeHaven is restrained and powerful never sinking to ‘how did my career come to this?’ pathos.
DeHaven’s thankful subtlety grounds the film itself, which concerns a (supposedly) prehistoric sea creature brought to the surface of a small country town by illegal dynamite fishing, with a professionalism and sense of fun that allows the audience, fully, into the proceedings. Filmed almost documentary-style (like many 1970s swampland creature features such as Creature from Black Lake and Return to Boggy Creek with Dawn Wells from Gilligan’s Island) by director Don Keeslar (whom obviously embraced the outdoors – his only other directing credit is The Capture of Grizzly Adams), Bog, also, serves as a historical document – allowing one to experience small town life circa the late 70s as many locals, both professional (such as Carol Terry, of low budget cult film god Ted V. Mikels’ The Doll Squad) and not, are used in the proceedings).
In fact, the vicious creature is enacted by a 6’7”, 247 pound resident, Thomas “Jeff” Schwad. Of course, Schwad’s creature, when fully revealed, looks like a flapping, winged Creature of the Black Lagoon prototype with a massive fish for a head – making it one of the most hysterical and oddly memorable creatures of the mutant beast genre. Designed as part ecological statement (don’t blow up the fishies!) and part horny aberration (the creature survives on the blood of women and somehow, utilizes them to conjure up a boatload of fertilized, ocean bottom caviar), Bog is outrageous, choppily edited and a wonderful document of the drive-in cinema of its time. In between its bouts of monster mania, it is, also, as laid back and slow going as a long country day in the summer. If said day included a comical shot of a deputy’s hand, sinking into the drink, a la Excalibur, with a wrinkled fish’s mouth wrapped around his elbow, that is!
Classic DeHaven!
While definitely not a horror piece, Redletter from (the very gay friendly) The Neo-Futurists does feature a segment which details the terrors of uninformed journalism in the modern age, with prominent attention paid to the numerous incorrect reports in the aftermath of the Boston Marathon bombing. In these moments, you can truly feel the dread of creator Lisa Buscani, whom seemingly nurtured this show due to her love of responsible, old school reporting, leaping off of the stage. Lives were destroyed due to false reports and Buscani’s disgust at the unprofessional actions of the press is palpable here.
While this moment is truly one of the show’s most notable, as in all Neo-Futurist productions, the ensemble eventually gathers together to share their personal stories about their own writing careers and how newsworthy events have impacted their lives. Thea Lux’s memories of 9-11 are poignant while Lindsay Muscato bravely shares how her own insecurities have often halted her progress in her creative endeavors. Buscani who leads the whole ensemble, including affable Co-Artistic Director Bilal Dardai, with heartwarming enthusiasm, also, shares happy memories of family gatherings with the morning paper and her early attempts at student journalism.
In a feat of dramatic contrast, the notion of honest, old school reportage is given by a ribbing by the committed ramblings of the truly talented Trevor Dawkins. Dawkins, who, winningly, staged his own action movie in last year’s athletic Haymaker, here morphs into an insane, coke snorting version of his journalist father. Revealing that even in the golden age of television journalism, networks could be bought and sold, Dawkins is a marvel. Whether grooving across stage with perfect Fosse hands or rambunctiously attacking Buscani, Dawkins comes off like the coolest guy in town, perfecting all of the truly awkward and totally delightful energy of every Neo-Futurist production in one performance.
Hmmm…Hey, Trevor, wanna be friends?!?
Redletter runs through March 29th, 2015 at The Neo-Futurariam , 5153 N. Ashland, in Chicago. More information is available at http://www.neofuturists.org.
Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!
Blaine in The Dark
The Dark. 1979. Blaine’s Role: Courtney Floyd.
Don’t you just hate it when the local whores and random passers-by start getting ripped apart by a giant space creature in dank alleys? Well, so does The Dark’s master crime writer (played with flippant charm by William Devane) – especially when the first victim is his daughter (played, interestingly enough, by the soon-to-be Kathy Hilton). Aided by a television reporter, portrayed by Cathy Lee Crosby (a participant in 1973’s The Laughing Detective, a Walter Matthau film whose gay killer scenario has definite pre-shades of William Freidkin’s controversial Cruising), and a shaggy forensic master (radio announcer and Scooby Doo wonder Casey Kasem), Devane soon discovers a party psychic (turned true clairvoyant) may have clues to the vicious killings.
As a link to the previously fake wonder, Blaine’s Floyd, is frisky and fun. Her brief scene with Devane vibrates with husky sexuality and one almost believes Blaine could have a chance with the much younger Devane, such is her breezy confidence. (Of course, since Blaine is playing an actor’s agent, she probably had plenty of personal acquaintances and situations to draw from.)
with Devane
Parasite. 1982. Blaine’s Role: Miss Daley.
Best known as the vehicle that gave Demi Moore her first starring role, the producers of this Italian Stallion knew who their true star was – Blaine is introduced as Miss Vivian Blaine in the opening credits of this, her second to last film.
Concerned with a nervous scientist, hunted by the ruling Marshalls in a post apocalyptic world, Blaine is Miss Daley, queen of a crumbling boarding house. Of course, our timid chemist arrives at Daley’s dusty rooms with more than rent in tow. Having created a deadly parasite, he is desperately searching for a cure. When one of the chewy fiends is loosed upon a violent gang of teens, though, hell soon erupts in dry town.
In a nice touch, Blaine’s Daley is revealed as a former actress. This character devise is never discussed, though. Subtly (especially for this type of film), all is revealed through the photos hanging on the walls of her dilapidated estate. Blaine plays fully into the action when one of the infected teens is brought to Daley’s establishment, causing furious demises for many. With a touch of bitterness and wit, Blaine reveals Daley as a woman still concerned about her appearance just (spoiler alert) before her core sucking obliteration. Gasping arthritically ‘til the end, Blaine’s expiration is one of the film’s most memorable proving, once and for all, if you’re going to be in one of these demented babies, dying well is the best revenge.
On DVD, Parasite’s 3D origins are apparent with its main creature (and title card) popping into your face in an obvious manner. That the creature looks as much like a deranged Muppet with tremulous fangs as anything else is among its extreme goofy pleasures.
In a poignant note, actor Tom Villard (We’ve Got it Made, Popcorn) who, sadly, died of AIDS in 1994, gives an enthusiast performance as one of the creature’s first hollowed out victims. Cherie Currie (lead singer of The Runaways and the doomed vixen of Foxes), also makes a dewy appearance making this gastronomical romp a true cult film through actor appearances alone. (Devotedly, Blaine was one of the first celebrities to devote herself to raising awareness and money for AIDS charities.)
In an interesting note, Blaine’s last appearance was on an episode of the first season of Murder She Wrote (1985) called Broadway Malady, playing Lorna Luft’s mother. Here Blaine gets to sing in a full out production number and fight off an extremely lethal death by gas stove while Luft’s vocal pyrotechnics are matched by her character’s injury in a fairly blunt and violent shooting sequence orchestrated by character actor Gregg Henry (Slither, Just Before Dawn, Body Double).
Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!
Maverick in its accomplishments, the anthology Tales of Poe is the perfect example of independent terror filmmaking at its most inventive.
Collaborators Alan Rowe Kelly and Bart Mastronardi have mixed old school 50s Gothicism with a distinctively modern spin on two of Poe’s best known tales and one poem here, with intense visuals and some truly superb performances highlighting the affair, as a whole.
In particular, Kelly’s imperial Gogo in The Cask, the second installment, is a marvel of femme majesty. Channeling such vixens as Faith Domergue, Angela Lansbury (who played a couple of wicked noir style villainesses in the 40s) and Joan Bennett, Kelly also adds his own ticks and quirks to this stunning creation, one of the most enjoyable antagonists in recent history.
Kelly is well supported by the surprisingly good Randy Jones (of Village People fame). Playing Gogo’s wealthy, newlywed husband Fortunato, Jones is entirely convincing and completely sympathetic as he discovers that his new spouse has some very poisonous remodeling plans, on their wedding night, no less.
Just like The Tell Tale Heart, the film’s fine, bloody first segment (https://biggayhorrorfan.wordpress.com/2014/08/25/review-the-tell-tale-heart/), The Cask doesn’t skimp on the gruesomeness. If there is one minor flaw it’s that, unlike Tell Tale’s uniformly excellent minor and supporting performances, including David Marancik’s believably unstable Fritz, not all of the performances of Fortunato’s rich acquaintances are quite believable here, with a couple of the performers either delivering too little or too much.
The final piece truly reveals the ingenuity of Mastronardi and Kelly, though. Full of stunning images and fun performances by such genre goddesses as Adrienne King and Caroline Williams, Dreams, a take on a Poe verse, seemingly follows a young woman on her adventures as she hovers between life and death.
Taking up almost a full third of the film’s running time, this (mostly) dialogue-less, stream of conscious segment, may be a bit too much for folks longing for the linear delights of the first two pieces. But illuminated by Amy Steel’s truly wondrous voiceover work and performance as a grieving mother, this portion of the film truly illustrates the risk taking delights of this project, as a whole.
Keep up with Tales of Poe as it engrains itself further into the terror consciousness at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tales-of-Poe and http://www.talesofpoefilm.com.
Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!
The fact that certain friends have drifted out of my life can still hit me with a pernicious gravity, even years after their emotional evacuations. It seems, from reading the chronicle of Liam Shea in Alex Jeffers’ beautiful That Door Is a Mischief, that there is a possibility, that no matter how old I get, this may always be the case.
An actual fairy, raised by two gay men, Shea’s mystical, immortal nature, ultimately, finds him outliving all those who have loved him. But before this bittersweet denouement, Jeffers takes on us an incredible journey.
As a teen, Liam has little use for human interaction, but as he forces himself to connect with a kind classmate, he soon opens up to human characteristics such as friendship and love. A chance encounter with Harry, a former antagonist, eventually opens his sensitivities up further than he could ever have imagined. As the two embrace each other, wholly, Liam, sensitive to steel and its byproducts, even risks his life for Harry and, an unexpected rescue mission, finds them altered, physically, forever.
Briskly, yet with detailed elegance, Jeffers takes us through the various phases of Liam’s life. From the awkward interactions with his confused fathers to the sexual awakenings he experiences with wise shaman types, Jeffers offers up a full view of Liam’s world. As Liam’s chosen family grows, he experiences heartbreaks and joys that everyone can relate to and the reader’s connection with material is all the more enhanced for those descriptions.
Occasionally, Jeffers, a native of Ireland, uses phraseology that may be hard for American readers to master, but his descriptions of the ever changing fabric of Liam’s native fairyland is masterful. He, also, artfully, incorporates myriad visions of alternative sexuality, with ease and grace, making one long for a world as unbiased and erotically healthy as the one that Jeffers, lovingly, creates.
Clocking in at a scant 200 pages, but full of unparalleled joy and bone wrenching sadness, That Door Is a Mischief is, ultimately, a highly enjoyable work of fantasy fiction.
That Door is a Mischief is published by Lethe Press, http://www.lethepressbooks.com.
Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!
Considered the female fronted equivalent of Marilyn Manson, Fort Lauderdale goth rockers Jack Off Jill, guided for its eight years of existence by the glorious Jessicka (Addams) and Robin Moulder, should have shelf space in every terror loving freak’s audio palace.
That their brilliant track Rabiteen runs over the closing credits of the disturbing 1998 exploitation offering Wicked, which floated in limbo until Julia Stiles’ bankability allowed it a release in 2001, should definitely earn them some further genre respect, as well.
Despite a breakup in 2000, the band still has an website available at http://www.jackoffjill.com.
Until the next time, SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!
“Give me a sense of purpose, a real sense of purpose, now!” – The Pretenders/Chrissie Hynde
This isn’t trending like a white or gold (or is it blue?) dress (really Facebook?!?), but the Academy of Arts and Sciences did give the grand Carla Laemmle (1909-2014) some post-Oscars memoriam recognition for her contribution to motion pictures.
http://oscar.go.com/photos/2015-oscars-in-memoriam/media/laemmle_carla_actress
As one of the premium members of Universal’s film dynasty, Carla appeared in Lon Chaney’s classic silent The Phantom of the Opera and spoke the first lines in the beloved Dracula, featuring the one and only Bela Lugosi.
Since her death this fall, Laemmle’s family has, frequently, updated her fan page with new photos and interviews.
If you’re ever in the mood for old school Hollywood glamour, check it out at:
https://www.facebook.com/carlalaemmleactress
Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!
With her patrician curls, sophisticated kewpie features and a distinctive, oceanic voice calmed by smoked whisky undertones, Southern bred Lynn Bari (1913-1989) dominated B-movies (and the occasional major feature such as Blood and Sand) from the 1930’s until the early 1960’s. Often cast as a seductress, Bari could play noble just as efficiently, and two of her starring mid-period roles found her tangling with the king of fright, on one hand, and an exotic heartthrob, on the other.
Shock. 1946. A young war bride witnesses a psychiatrist’s (played by Lord of the Goth, Vincent Price) crime of passion against his much older wife and in a state of mute horror, soon finds herself trapped at the asylum that he runs.
There, Price’s character struggles with his conscience, as he tries to deal with covering up his murderous rampage while simultaneously caring for the welfare of his young victim. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, as the case may truly be) Nurse Elaine Jordan, his lover, played with clipped control by Bari, has no such sympathies and as twists in the case arise, she becomes determined to rid the world of the one person with any knowledge of her paramour’s wrongdoing.
Filmed briskly by director Alfred L. Werker, Shock’s one true moment of camera-action beauty occurs as a frantic Bari runs across the wind tossed estate of the medical facility to Price’s quarters. The buildings and alleyways loom ominously as Bari sprints, majestically, to her destination and there is more tension in this short sequence than in the majority of the film’s other twisted occurrences.
Pedestrian, yet fun, Shock’s title, ultimately, refers not only to the young married’s initial response to Price’s act but also to the malevolent death Bari prescribes for her – a slow death by insulin shock poisoning.
The Amazing Mr. X. 1948. Here, as regal widow Christine Faber, Bari is the unwitting victim. Walking along a rocky seascape near her house one evening, Faber is surprised by the handsome Mr. X, aka Alexis, (European stud Turhan Bey) whom possesses intimate knowledge of the details of her life.
A supposed clairvoyant, Mr. X soon has Faber and her young, live-in sister, wrapped up in his mystical palms. Despite eventual evidence of X’s underhandedness, Faber still goes through with a séance to contact her deceased husband – where things ultimately begin to unravel in a deadly manner.
Silkily proud, Bari’s Faber is a strong, yet vulnerable woman and the moody, fog ridden cinematography (masterfully composed by John Alton) not only creates a sense of beautiful tension for the feature itself, but drapes Bari’s elegant features with a misty, haunted precision as well.
Containing several outright shocks (especially during the film’s final reel), director Bernard Vorhaus brings out more in the film’s modest budget than would be expected, making The Amazing Mr. X, a step above normal B movie fare – eventually exposing itself as a proud achievement for Bari.
Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!
I grew up in the country, so I know the wickedness of barns – kicking horses, smelly cows, haylofts you can’t escape from once you’ve climbed into them…
Now, the brilliant Nevermore Productions takes that terror and multiplies it, slasher-style, with their juicy looking throwback titled, naturally, The Barn!
They’ve just released their first official trailer for the piece:
…and you can follow all of this project’s bloody straw bound magic at:
http://www.facebook.com/TheBarnmovie and
http://www.nevermoreproductionfilms.com, as well.
Until the next time – SWEET love and pink GRUE, Big Gay Horror Fan!
Big Gay Horror Fan 