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VIY (1967)
Yes, that's an actual screen grab from Viy (a.k.a. Spirit of Evil). What is Viy? It's a Russian horror fairy tale based on a short story written by Nikolai Gogol. A cassock is sent to pray over the corpse of a beautiful girl for three nights. The injunction comes from her father, and his wishes are very specific. Khoma, our hesitant lead, must absolve the unfortunate doxy and remain by her coffin's side in the pelvis of a dank monastery. Tattered witches, giant hands and misshapen goblin sightings ensue. Parts of Viy are incredibly eerie; other parts are clunky. It's a mixed bag, but I honestly can't believe how damn obscure it is. It may be an inaccessible import, but that hasn't stopped Jigoku or Fascination from becoming cult classics.
Extensive make-up effects and confounding camera tricks exhibit a stirring level of ingenuity. The third act is awash with more creepy shit than the most gleaming CGI could ever hope to replicate. I have proof. Using YouTube as your reference guide, check out the trailer for the recently refurbished remake (or just click HERE, you lazy gimp). It's meant for Russian audiences, but it looks American to me. I don't mean to suggest that Viy is an exemplary showpiece. I didn't care for the bits of nincompoop humor, and the "epilogue" is wholly useless. For real, yo. It feels like an afterthought. I frown on afterthoughts.
Oh, I recommend the movie, by the way.
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One hundred. My mind is blown. I thought I'd switch it up a bit for such a momentous occasion. Please enjoy geeking out to 80's metal cheese in the form of Helloween's "Halloween." I like to think this video inspired 1995's Jack-O, a waypost in gourd-based slasherdom.
I've had the WWE Network since Monday. I've only experienced one day of uninterrupted, snag-free service. That would be...today. Frustrating? That's putting it mildly, but hold onto your fedora of fault-finding. Technical gaffes are to be expected with the launch of any multi-media venture of this breadth and volume. Let's wait and see how the network holds up over the next few weeks. More importantly, let's see how WWE's servers respond to the assiduous influx of traffic levied by Wrestlemania. If the live feed cuts out during Brock Lesnar's epic encounter with The Undertaker, God help the McMahon family. Thousands of fans would cancel their subscriptions, and so would I.
But that hasn't happened yet (knock on wood). Issues are being arbitrated, and I'm starting to enjoy the content that the WWE Network has to offer. I just watched a shaving of WCW Beach Blast '92. Scotty Flamingo vs. Flyin' Brian Pillman was way better than I remembered. Sure, Baby Raven was greener than zucchini leukocytes on St. Patrick's Day (wait, what?), but it was a spirited exchange that utilized the entire ring. I've pegged the Rude/Steamboat Iron Man Match for later tonight. Motherfucking Steamboat, people. I could watch any PPV if I wanted to, and not that it's any of your goddamn business, but I'll probably catch up on all of the ECW stuff I discounted in the 90's.
Of course, the first actual live stream was NXT: Arrival. I can't believe how much buzz this two-hour special has generated. Can the good will amassed by Paige, Emma, Sami Zayn, The Ascension and Tyler Breeze (among others) translate to the main roster? How many regular viewers of Raw and Smackdown tuned in last night? Zayn and Cesaro worked a "match of the year" candidate that was able to tell a story with impeccable wrestling. Paige and Emma upstaged the entire Diva's division. That match felt more meaningful and significant than any women's bout in the WWE since Lita's retirement.
Don't get me wrong; I still heart A.J., but who does she have to work with? Emma needs to ditch Santino as soon as fucking possible. At any rate, The Ascension was also on display. They have the potential to be the next Road Warriors, or at least the next Acolyte Protection Agency. The future is so bright, I need sunglasses. HAHA! My brain's feed is cutting out.
So if you're not watching NXT: Arrival tomorrow (Thursday) night, you're a loser. I'll probably review it. On second thought, I'll just post my piece on the WWE Network and include my impressions of the event. Something tells me it's going to kick ass. Bring on Paige vs. Emma and Zayn vs. Cesaro!
Larry Cohen, you fucking weirdo. Only you could have made this movie. 1987's A Return to Salem's Lot has zilch to do with 1979's Salem's Lot. Yes, it should have had a different title, but Halloween III: Season of the Witch has managed to settle into a niche audience after years of debasement and unjust scurrility. Why does everyone still shit on this flick? My friend gave me his copy after watching it and promptly shrugging his shoulders. I don't think it's that bad. C'mon! Michael Moriarty plays a dickhead! How dreadful could it be? Now, go play while Daddy writes a synopsis. You know I get volatile in "synopsis mode." Besides, your mother is being a bitch.
So Moriarty is Joe, a photo journalist saddled with the responsibility of tending to his estranged son. He takes Jeremy - the estranged son - to a gig in Maine. Naturally, he winds up in Salem's Lot, a nondescript town smote with hoary vampires. The bloodsuckers have been there for centuries, and they have a system in place. They feed on cattle, their children attend school at night and "drones" (hybrids, basically) keep the municipality operating during daylight hours. Cohen is prone to using boilerplate horror bromides to comment on society. Here, he satires the sterility of suburban life and the virulence of class warfare. I don't need to tell you that he does this with tacky creature effects.
See, that's why I dig Return. It's lighthearted. It's funny, both intentionally and unintentionally. It's ambitious. The cast is equipped with quirky character actors. Ricky Addison Reed is enthusiastic as Jeremy, and he has the best lines of the lot ("You shut up. You shut the fuck up!"). Oddly enough, this was his first and last role. Sam Fuller kicks ass as Van Meer, Nazi hunter extraordinaire. It goes without saying that Moriarty is...himself. Man, he's an acquired taste, but I've developed an appreciation for his diacritic swagger. Diacritic swagger??? Yeah.
I am fully aware that this film is a honeycomb of foibles, a waffle cloth riddled with craters, if you will. It's not my favorite Larry Cohen production. That slot is reserved for It's Alive. However, I wouldn't hesitate to recommend A Return to Salem's Lot. The Tobe Hooper original is infinitely superior, but if you adjust your expectations accordingly, you might have fun. Cons? Eh, the running time is swollen, subplots are dropped without warning and Count Barlow is missed. You won't find much menace beyond these gates, that I can assure you. There is a reason why I focused on the positives, though. The negatives didn't weigh too heavily on my psyche. That's obvious.
Movie review tomorrow. Thoughts on the WWE Network later in the week. Alright.
