6 days ago
Remember when I said that I was going to let you pick an adult-oriented book for me to review? Well, the time for an epic power struggle is now. Stop spinning in your desk chair. You won't get free reign. I've selected a handful of books that I'm interested in reading and put them to a vote at the Random Reviews Incorporated Facebook Fan Club. If you haven't joined the fan club yet (or I haven't forced you to join yet), this would be an opportune time to do so. Have at it!
Posted by Dom Coccaro at 5:50 AM
GOOSEBUMPS: CALLING ALL CREEPS (R.L. Stine)
The main character in Calling All Creeps is a dweeb named Ricky. Like most dweebs, he is bulldozed by bullies at school. For this scenario to work, the reader must give quarter to the goober in oppugning jeopardy. We should feel pity for this hapless son of a hussy. See, that's the first problem. I don't give a soggy, throat-drilling blumpkin (resist the urge to reference Urban Dictionary) about Ricky. In fact, I want the bullies to obliterate his little bitch ass. I know, I know...I should "be a star," but if I knew this kid in middle school, I would have eaten his lunch money and pissed on his homework. And I would have raped him in his own locker! Don't ruminate on the integrity of my strategy; I could have figured it out.
Tampon contessa. Fucking dick fart. Woah, I don't know where that lump of hatred came from. I have repressed issues, don't I? I would never, EVER condone bullying, but Ricky is such an urchin. His idea of a prank involves editing derogatory muckraking into the school newspaper. His idea of an insult? "So-and-so is a creep!" Did he honestly think that no one would catch it in time to send that shit off to the presses? Naturally, the intended target catches it and replaces her name with Ricky's (she also includes his phone number). His antagonizers call his place late at night claiming to be creeps. If it's a joke, they're committing to it in a major way. They even go as far as to defer to Ricky, their "commander."
So what's the deal? Well, they are creeps. Creeps can shapeshift into purple (it's closer to mauve, really) reptile beasts of prey. One of them eats a squirrel, but apart from that meteoric display of sadism, their wicked deeds amount to nothing more than strong-arm tactics. It's a tweener book, I get it, but Calling All Creeps needs a fat dose of ferocity. Is a drop of gore asking too much? Why should the reader be scared for Ricky, you know what I mean? Ricky isn't a squirrel! The rest of the characters are insignificant, and the parents...ugh, the parents are cocks. In their defense, their son is a sniveling pussy, a human birth canal. Piece of asshole.
Of course, Stine has his lead dope whine to every adult that creatures are planning to poison the cafeteria food. While Calling All Creeps defecated on my strawberries, I did like the ending. It was actually clever. I'm gobsmacked, too. A sequel would be interesting, but clearly, that's not going to happen. Yeah, fans barked for three goddamn Monster Blood sequels. I'm totally sure. Can you tell I'm a tad irritated that I haven't reviewed a decent Goosebumps folio yet? I know they exist. I'd cover Egg Monsters From Mars if I owned it. Jordy Verrill says, "Calling all creeps? I wonder if my daddy will ever call me. I'm a creep."
Posted by Dom Coccaro at 8:30 AM
TALE OF A VAMPIRE (1992)
Julian Sands enjoyed a prolific run in the early 90's, starring in a strand of mid-level genre films ranging from the cordially crass (Warlock: The Armageddon) to the duteously fatuous (Naked Lunch). He's popular among horror freaks, and it's easy to see why. Dudes respect his bold chops, especially as a villain. Chicks get off on the vulnerability he brings to a character. That sounds boorish, but ladies, you know it's true. I don't mind telling you that he made my undergarments curl in jocundity as Alex, a vampiric centenarian who develops a sexually tense rapport with a grieving lass. She is the spitting image of a lost love, a lost love who may have been involved with more than one creature of the night.
We're talking about Tale of a Vampire, a modest movie that must have had foresight. It prognosticated the pseudo-romance we find in today's weepy, lachrymose epics where an unbelievably handsome wolf of a charmer lights up a sad girl's vagina. As a general rule, I don't care for those pictures. But this puppy has Julian Sands. And it's shot incredibly well. Unfortunately, it's slower than a glacier wearing ankle weights (hmm). I mean, it's really, really fucking slow. No kidding. I'll go ahead and recommend it anyway if you're big on pale gentlemen and fruit bats.
Posted by Dom Coccaro at 11:17 PM