Now Playing #18

Havukruunu - Tavastland

The average metalhead will run across eleventy billion bands that they cannot pronounce.  The bands in question might rule, but you can forget about telling your nextdoor neighbor about them without pen and paper present.  Actually, your nextdoor neighbor probably wouldn't dig Havukruunu anyway.  Putting aside the fact that I can't pronounce their songtitles (they sing in Finnish, their native tongue), I am madly in love with Havukruunu.  They play folk-infused black metal, although the band members themselves simply refer to the music as "metal."  And they aren't wrong.  This metal is conducive to toe-tapping and/or head-nodding (or just straight-up headbanging, especially if you're in public).  Every song - I repeat, every song - comes equipped with a splashy, sumptuous guitar solo.  "But Dom, what if the song doesn't call for a solo?"  Shut up, kid.  You're no fun.

It's only March, but I'm confident that Tavastland will show up on my year-end list.  It's abounding with color, despite the monochromatic artwork.  Favorite tunes?  "Kuolematon Laulunhenki," and dude, listen to "Kuoleman Oma."  You won't be able to resist that level of shred.  I'll also recommend the rest of Havukruunu's discography, which includes three full-lengths and a pair of (rad) EPs.

Scour - Gold

I realize that Pantera has become a bit of a joke in the underground, but I harbor no guilt when I say that Phil Anselmo is one of my favorite vocalists of all time.  Sign me up for any of his projects.  I nearly wore out my copy of the first Superjoint Ritual record.  Scour might be his most extreme outlet.  On their first three releases (all of them EPs), the band trafficked in tightly-wound death/black metal full of blastbeats and some of Phil's nastiest barks to date.  Gold is essentially more of the same, only nuanced and slightly fleshed out.  Here again, the vocals range from vein-rupturing screams to deeper roars.  I'm struggling to make an apt comparison, as he fills out the entire tracklist with a unique tone.  With regards to his low-register delivery, I know he's a Morbid Angel fan.  Maybe somewhere between Steve Tucker and Covenant-era David Vincent?

Of course, we're all Morbid Angel fans, but you know what I mean.  I'm a Scour fan.  Gold contains their best material, in my estimation.  Check out "Infusorium" and "Coin."  Quick sidenote...the latter features a guest solo by Gary Holt.

Blood Capsule #274

FROM HELL IT CAME (1957)

"For each of man's evils, there is a tree stump."  Wait, that can't be right.  I'm confusing my tales of vengeance.  From Hell it Came could have influenced Pumpkinhead, but then, it could have influenced a whole host of horror films that focus on a character who has been wrongfully accused of murder.  Here, an island prince is sentenced to a voodoo execution for the curious death of the tribal chief.  Of course, he maintains his innocence and places a curse on everyone involved.  A nasty tree stump grows around the topsoil of his grave, but that's only one possible origin story.  There is also the legend of Tabonga, an aboriginal chief who returned from the dead as ambulatory foliage.  But wait, there's more!  The locals report having seen nuclear fallout.  Geez, this flick can't seem to pick a lane.  All you need to know is that it concerns a deadly fir...no, pine...no, maple...it concerns a deadly tree.  And it's awesome.

Yep, this monster is evergreen.  Tabonga was designed by a gentleman named Paul Blaisdell, and I wish I could give him a hug.  If you leaf through reviews on IMDb, you'll find a proverbial orchard of negative remarks.  I don't know what these folks were expecting, but considering the tenuous budget, From Hell it Came delivers the goods.  Once the main players are introduced, there isn't much dillying (or dallying).  I suppose that the natives could be a little less, shall we say, pasty?  It's a minor bellyache.  I mean, it was 1957.  You can't fault the film for not being culturally sensitive.  I could see it pissing off a few trees, though.  Recommended to fans of Seedpeople, The Day of the Triffids, The Woman Eater, and jungle rot.  Don't forget jungle rot.

Random Match Alert

Ask me why I'm watching The Undertaker vs. Giant Gonzalez from Wrestlemania 9.  Go ahead, ask.  I...do not know.  But I'll always be a mark for ol' Jorge Gonzalez, silly gimmicks be damned.  This particular 'Mania is routinely debased by WWE freaks.  Eh, I don't mind saying it's my favorite, mainly because of nostalgia.  I'm still waiting for officially licensed Giant Gonzalez merchandise in the form of shirts and/or hats.  I have a feeling I'll be waiting for awhile...

Blood Capsule #273

THE COFFEE TABLE (2022)

This will be an extremely difficult review to write.  Basically, I have to sell you on The Coffee Table without telling you anything about it.  In fact, just stop reading.  It's available on Shudder.  Watch it, then get back to me.  I will reveal this much; I knew about the film's "gimmick" (that isn't really the right word) beforehand, and I still enjoyed myself.  So maybe it's not that big of a deal, but...I wish that I had gone in blind.  It's up to you.  What the hell can I say here?  The Coffee Table concerns a coffee table.  Don't expect a supernatural contingency.  There are no ghosts or goblins, nor is the coffee table made of wood sourced from a witch's bonfire.  There is no villain per se.  Is it even a horror film, you ask?  Absolutely.  It's 100% horror, and while the script flirts with black comedy and histrionic melodrama, the characters find themselves in truly horrifying situations.  Maybe tag it as "furniture horror" alongside Mirror, Mirror and Amityville 4: The Evil Escapes.

The acting is top-notch.  David Pareja is believable as a father who simply wants to protect his family.  You can understand the extreme decisions he makes, even if you take the judgmental route and you don't think you would ever be in his shoes.  The point of The Coffee Table is that you could be in his shoes.  What if?  What would you do?  It's frustrating to speak in such opaque terms, but again, it's best if you go in fresh.  An honorable mention goes out to Estefania de los Santos.  She gives a grounded performance, although it did take me awhile to warm up to her.  The last twenty minutes are unreal.  I don't know if I'm ready to hand out a 5-Z'Dar rating to a movie that hasn't had a chance to age gracefully.  I'm tempted!  I totally dug The Coffee Table, and yeah, you should check it out.  Without delay.

Random Song Alert

This was a random pull, but it will cool your jets on a carefree Sunday evening.  Well, if you're into fiendish black/death metal.

Blood Capsule #272

DESTINATION INNER SPACE (1966)

Don't look now, but I'm in my wheelhouse again.  If only I could stay here indefinitely.  For the uninitiated, my wheelhouse involves fishmen.  This one is a little more fish than man.  It's also from outer space, but hold your (sea) horses.  I can't actually remember how or where I learned about this mini-submersible, but I'm glad that I did.  Revisiting Destination Inner Space, I wondered aloud how it wasn't a cult classic held in high esteem.  All of the right ingredients are present.  A chiseled, wildly misogynistic Scott Brady turns in a proficient performance as a naval commander reporting to an underwater laboratory.  Sonar has detected an unidentified object floating ever closer to home base.  It's soon revealed to be a probe that isn't from around here.  The hovercraft contains a strange capsule, and no, it's not full of blood.  As it happens, it's fraught with a fishman, a righteous rascal with an orange mohawk (technically, it's a fleshy ridge, but I'm sticking with "mohawk").

Once our monster is introduced, the camera isn't timid when it comes to glamour shots of Gillman from Space.  He seems to know he's the star of the show.  Now, I'll level with you; the pace could be described as somewhat laborious.  There are a few moments of dead air, but I was sold on this flick from the very first frame.  I'm willing to overlook certain flaws, flaws that might be damaging to someone who doesn't have a predilection for this sub-subgenre.  I think we all have cases where we look the other way as it relates to a movie's deficiencies.  For instance, I refuse to believe that Spookies isn't pitch-perfect.  I better wrap this up before my tangent charters an oblique course through redundancy (sorry, Spookies brings out the worst in me).  Definitely give Destination Inner Space a whirl, even if it's just for the scene in which Gillman from Space is restrained and basically handcuffed.  It's too much, man.

Grog

Sometimes, I'll watch two movies and decide what to review the next day.  Last night, I watched Tentacles and Monster in the Closet.  Coin toss?  Honestly, neither picture is particularly inspiring.  The latter was released by Troma, though I don't believe it was an in-house production.  Then again, it's suffused with Lloyd Kaufman's unsavory brand of humor, so who knows?  Clearly, I don't.  Also, I took a muscle relaxer a few hours ago.  I'm surprised I'm typing anything remotely coherent.

I'm going back to bed.

Blood Capsule #271 (Special Edition)

What's a Special Edition?  It's a new series where I review one of my favorites.  These are films that would appear in my Top 50 or so (if I endeavored to compile such a list).  My goal is to write a Special Edition Blood Capsule once every couple of months.  We'll see how that goes!

PUMPKINHEAD (1988)

When I was a kid, Pumpkinhead was just a cool box at the video store.  Now, thirty viewings later (that's a conservative estimate), it's my third or fourth favorite film of all time.  Top five, easily.  In maintaining this website, I have developed a reputation as a monster guy, especially amongst my friends.  Well, Pumpkinhead is the monster movie.  It's perfect cinema, as far as I'm concerned.  The trick?  The film's entertainment value doesn't begin and end with special effects that are now considered legendary.  It has heart.  There's a reason why I chose the image you see above these words.  There is no shortage of killer visuals I could have went with, but they don't mean anything without the story of a father losing his son in a lamentable accident.  Lance Henriksen was born to play the role of Ed Harley, and if Pumpkinhead is ever given the remake treatment (I'm surprised it hasn't already happened), I pity the fool burdened with the task of stepping into those shoes.

Of course, the rest of the cast is superb.  No, splendiferous!  It's hard to believe that this was little Matthew Hurley's only screen credit.  Ed and Billy share, what, fifteen minutes of screen time?  Less if you disregard Hurley's post-mortal bit of acting.  And yet they hammer out a believable relationship, the kind that some of us remember from childhood through the silver-hued eyes of nostalgia.  When Billy dies in his father's arms, it's a punch to the small intestines that you feel in your gums.  But the film delivers in the "cool stuff" department as well.  The death sequences are brusque and anguished, matched by a multi-pronged score that ratchets up the intensity at just the right moments.  This may seem minor, but Pumpkinhead features one of the creepiest depictions of a witch in all of horrordom.  See, it really does have everything.  Stan Winston keeps the plot humming at a controlled pace.  It seems wrong somehow that this was his sole gig as a director (in the horror field anyway...no, A Gnome Named Norm doesn't come up to scratch).

I may or may not cover the sequels.  That's a...that's a situation.  Watch Pumpkinhead if you haven't!

Blood Capsule #270

THE UNKNOWN TERROR (1957)

This film was delivered to my doorstep at just the right time.  I've made it no secret that I've been in a rut in terms of what I've been watching.  Some people would take that as a hint and maybe - oh, I don't know - change their viewing habits.  Yeah, I don't see that happening anytime soon.  But again, I won't need to change anything if I can keep finding pearls like The Unknown Terror.  This is a heady slice of "scientific horror" where the antagonist seems drab on paper (shades of The Monolith Monsters).  After anatomizing the lyrics to a calypso song, scientists head off to the Caribbean in search of the fabled "cave of the dead."  Upon arrival, they are met with cold silence from the locals.  There is a doctor who may know where the cave is located, but he isn't saying much either.  Without spoiling everything, I can tell you that the unknown terror in The Unknown Terror is an aggressive fungus deleterious enough to cause gruesome deformities.

You know what that means, don't you?  Cave monsters!  It does take awhile to get to the good stuff, but the exposition is both tightly paced and written with panache.  The relationships between our leads are a little more complex than I was expecting.  At a certain point, a potential love triangle becomes a love...parallelogram?  I dug Paul Richards as Pete, a geophysicist who walks with a pronounced limp.  It could be said that this flick hobbles a bit, especially around the hour mark.  There are too many shots of people looking, studying, spelunking.  However, that's the only negative comment I can muster.  The Unknown Terror is engrossing.  I was just as intrigued by the human drama as I was by the spuming microbes.  And let me tell you, I love me some spuming microbes.  I know I already mentioned it, but if you enjoyed The Monolith Monsters (which came out the same year, coincidentally), you're going to want to hunt this baby down.  Also, I recommend it if you're really into the weathering of rock.

A few convention pics...

So yesterday, I attended Mad Monster Party, a rockin' horror convention here in North Carolina.  It's definitely the grandest, most opulent (???) con that I can call local.  I suppose most fans go to these things to meet certain celebrities and nab exorbitantly priced autographs, but with few exceptions, I go to buy stuff I don't need.  It's a tale as old as time.  What's that saying?  A fool and his money are about to part ways?  Yeah, that's me.  I'm the fool.  You can see my haul below.

I always forget to take pictures during these situations.  Clearly, I wasn't in the mood for photo ops, but Devon was cool enough to take a picture for free.  I did meet Darcy the Mail Girl, and unlike the last time, I managed to say intelligible words to her.  Small victories!

Taken just before I was powerbombed through a table.

Random clown!

Creepy dude on stilts.

My comic book haul.

My movie (and wrestler) haul.

MMP '25

That bald, purple fellow is the logo for Mad Monster Party, a horror convention that haunts North Carolina on an annual basis.  I've attended MMP on numerous occasions, and I'm sure that if you used the search function on this here website, you could find my write-ups from years past.  I doubt that I'll write much about it this year, but I AM attending.  And I can't freaking wait to spend money on crap I don't need in the vendor room.  If there are any photo opportunities, I'll post them on Sunday along with my "haul."  Lastly, if you're going to Mad Monster Party and you happen to see me there, greet me accordingly!  I'll be the devilishly handsome lad in the Maniac Cop shirt (oh, and the wheelchair).

PS-I watched 1955's The Quatermass Experiment last night via Amazon Prime.  Too busy to review it at the moment, but man, I highly recommend it.  It's all sorts of cool.

The Dark Power?

So The Dark Power is a mix between Demon Warrior and Neon Maniacs.  And I was hoping it would be good fodder for a Blood Capsule, but...nope.  It just sucks.  I need to be inspired in order to write, and I've just seen way too much junk lately.  Yes, I realize this is all my fault.  Back to the drawing board.  Man, these must be the residual effects of Mummy Month.  Ick.

Random Match Alert

I've got a deep cut for you today.  How about Luna Vachon versus Miss Texas (Jacqueline) down in USWA?  Unsurprisingly, they have a solid, albeit abbreviated match.  Watch out for the run-in by a young Vampire Warrior (that would be Gangrel).

Blood Capsule #269

DAWN OF THE MUMMY (1981)

Y'know, if this was the first mummy movie I had watched in February, I would have had more fun with it.  Still, I would put it on top of the pile (that doesn't say much for the pile).  Dawn of the Mummy works off of the blueprint drawn up by Italian zombie flicks.  If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was directed by Lucio Fulci.  These mummies claw their way out of the earth just like the worm-encrusted undead.  Nevermind the fact that mummies in horror films are zombies.  Their faces are free of bandages, so yeah, you might as well call them zombies.  Shot on location, Dawn follows fashion models and photographers as they try to take advantage of the pulchritudinous milieu (sorry, I fed my thesaurus after midnight) of sand dunes and pyramids.  Naturally, they disturb the resting place of King...um, I'm sure he had a name.  Should I have taken notes?  Naaaah.  Counting subordinates, there are close to a dozen mummies all told.  I only noticed the one dawn.

The pacing is languid and almost rigid.  It takes a solid hour for characters to begin dying, which is how you know this wasn't directed by Lucio Fulci.  We do get embellished gore in the form of neck-chomping and gut-munching.  Unfortunately, a lot of the detail is lost on account of rampant, unchecked darkness.  Then again, the version I watched was on Amazon Prime.  Maybe it's a different story on disc.  Regardless, Dawn of the Mummy is a worthwhile sit once it gets rolling.  I feel the need to repeat that this was my sixth mummy romp in a row.  The viewing experience is going to suffer.  I've said everything I can say about sand, gauze, leaves, and Ra (don't forget Ra).  Recommended to fans of Zombie Holocaust, City of the Living Dead, and ill-advised skinny dipping.  And R.L. Stine's Return of the Mummy.

Content, content, content...

I don't know how others view this website, if they view it at all.  This is probably just seen as another blog, but I see myself as a content creator.  I'm no different than a YouTuber, which by the way...YouTube is getting clued in on the Patreon model.  You can now "join" a person's YouTube channel and support them monetarily.  I'm hoping this normalizes the whole process because I always feel weird shilling my Patreon.  The truth is, every dollar helps.  Yes, even one dollar helps keep the site going, as it inspires the hell out of me and kicks my keister into overdrive.

So click HERE and maybe one day, I'll write a 1,000-word essay on The Supernaturals, a nifty "war zombie" movie you probably haven't seen.  Maybe one day...

Blood Capsule #268

DAY OF THE MUMMY (2014)

Last year's In a Violent Nature made waves with its novel "POV" approach.  We saw all of the action through the eyes of its killer.  Personally, I never saw it, so I can't comment on the methodology, be it in theory or in execution.  Most genre fans know that 2012's Maniac remake beat it to the punch anyway.  What you may not (want to) know is that there is another film that proudly wears this gimmick like a badge of honor.  Day of the Mummy is relayed through the eyes of its protagonist, an archeologist paid to find a precious diamond.  Of course, the stone is sequestered in the tomb of the mighty, possibly nefarious King Neferu.  So this b-jewel doubles as a "found footage" flick.  Just my luck.

By the way, the footage is being recorded for an eccentric magnate played by Danny Glover, of all people.  I hope he was paid handsomely, even if his performance isn't exactly...inspired?  Dude looks tired.  It's readily apparent that his scenes were shot in one afternoon.  I'm not going to besmirch the man.  He deserves to rest on his laurels, and honestly, he's the best thing here.  I did like the mummy.  He could actually be classified as monstrous, and yes, he roars.  Why shouldn't he roar?  Wouldn't you roar if you were in this movie?  Andrea Monier plays the token hot chick.  I don't know why I bothered to look up her name.  Can you tell that Mummy Month is nearing its terminus?  I'm so close to the finish line, I can practically smell the tana leaves.  Oh, I almost forgot; don't watch Day of the Mummy.  It's an empty sarcophagus that I shouldn't have exhumed.

Random Song Alert

Just spitballing, but I'm thinking of posting a song every once in awhile.  Because.  For example, this is my favorite song on the lone Agents of Oblivion record.  Jam it!

Blood Capsule #267

THE LEMON GROVE KIDS MEET THE MONSTERS (1968)

I've said this before, but certain films defy description.  This is...this.  Am I making any sense?  Genre-wise, this is a manifold cocktail (mummy moonshine?), blending experimental horror, science fiction, and madcap comedy.  Everything begins to make sense once you discover that The Lemon Grove Kids Meet the Monsters was sutured together by Ray Dennis Steckler.  Ray, if you're reading, I hate you.  The Chooper wasn't pestilent enough?  You had to sour the soil with this maladjusted melange, this mingle-mangle of manure?  Folks, you have to see this mess for yourself to believe that it exists.  Technically, it's a composite of three shorts, each one a "loving" homage to the Bowery Boys series from the 1940's.  I have to assume that you have no idea what I'm talking about.  The Bowery Boys were basically the Little Rascals, advanced in age.  They were aimed at children, children who are probably dead now.

Because Steckler watched this stuff in his youth, he had to come up with the Lemon Grove Kids.  Billed as Cash Flagg, he stars as Gopher, the simpleton of the bunch.  At one point, he crosses paths with a random mummy.  That's why I'm covering this b-nugget.  For five minutes (give or take), Meet the Monsters turns into a White Zombie music video.  And it's awesome, but again, this accounts for five minutes (give or take).  I won't pretend that I wasn't mildly entertained by the second short, a hallucinogenic anomaly entitled "The Lemon Grove Kids Meet the Green Grasshopper and the Vampire Lady From Outer Space."  I also won't pretend that any sane person should ever watch this...this for any reason.  Two of the side creatures are credited as Choopers (#1 and #2).  Pfft, I'm onto you, Ray Dennis Steckler.  I have your number, which in all probability, is a negative integer.

Weee arrrrrrrrre...the enemies of reality!

Every so often, I'll write about the records I've been spinning (figuratively speaking) in between my usual Now Playing posts.  I just like to write about music period, even if no one reads this stuff.  For instance, I've recently rediscovered my love for Nevermore due, in part, to the news of their "reunion."  What a freaking band.  Aside from the eponymous debut, which I admit I've neglected, every record is a banger, as the kids would say.  Last night, I jammed Enemies of Reality.  It tends to get passed over on account of well-documented production issues, but if you're listening to the Andy Sneap mix, it's full of - again - bangers.  I need to stop using that word.  Favorites would have to be "Ambivalent," "Tomorrow Turned into Yesterday," "I, Voyager," and the curt, catchy "Who Decides."

I highly recommend Warrel Dane's solo albums.  Also, check out Jeff Loomis's solo albums.  Man, it's a shame that guy was wasted in Arch Enemy.  But that's an editorial for another day.

Blood Capsule #266

TIME WALKER (1982)

This film should be an easy recommendation.  I have two words for you...alien mummy.  Yes, Time Walker dares to tell the story of an alien who has been mummified and squirreled away in the tomb of King Tut.  The mummy is discovered the usual way.  You've got your university, your levelheaded archeologist, and his nondescript students.  I think that's the problem.  Time Walker feels as though it's going through the motions when it should be a brain-boggling amusement park attraction.  Folks, the mummy levitates.  I nearly did a spit take the first time I saw it float through the night air.  And yet, this isn't an easy recommendation.  Our bandaged malefactor is after five crystals that, when interlaced into position, will disseminate him (her?) back into space.  I suppose the last ten minutes are worth watching if you didn't have to contend with the first eighty.

Blood Capsules are typically two paragraphs long, but to be honest, I've drained this mummy dry.  Nevermind the fact that it was already dehydrated.  I did like the green-tinted "mummy POV" shots.  Technically, our ostensible villain undergoes a babyface turn, but of course, that's after three people have been murdered.  There is no gore, by the way.  Time Walker has the audacity to conclude with a "to be continued" title card.  Apparently, this was meant to be turned into a TV series.  Woof.  I'm awarding an extra half-Z'Dar for the ridiculous ending.  This is one stargazer that makes you take pity on the moon.