The Sound of Parseverance (sic)

Um, golf.  I have golf brain.  I've been playing a lot of computer golf lately.  Like, A LOT.  I do online tournaments and the whole shebang.  You could say that it's my latest obsession (well, that and pork egg rolls).  I haven't forgotten about the site, though!  I'm tinkering with an idea for a new feature, but it's in the chrysalis stage at the moment.  Patience, patience...

...back to the fairway!  Hold all my calls, unless it's my divorce attorney.  The kids she can have, but my prized collection of Halloween-themed Kid Cuisine packaging?  Over my dead body, sir.  Over my dead body.

Looks pretty metal to me!

Scattered thoughts on Terrifier 2...

It's hard to believe that Art the Clown has been a certified horror icon for years now, but he has existed in some form since...erm, 1984.  Or 1997.  Look, I don't have the dry facts in front of me.  I can't be bothered to do research.  Clearly, my brain is in weekend mode, which means I lack the intellectual capacity to construct a cogent review.  I abstained from watching Terrifier 2 for so long, I might as well duck it in written form.  Why did I put it off?  Here comes a bulleted list!

• The fucking running time.  Seriously, 138 minutes?  What the fuck?  Pardon my language, but this carcinogenic car crash of a sequel holds maybe 80 minutes of plot.  And that's being generous!  Writer/director Damien Leone loves his ideas.  He loves his characters.  Hey, good for him.  That doesn't mean I need an extended shot of our heroine applying eyeliner or whatever the hell.  Actually, I couldn't cite a specific example because I don't know why Terrifier 2 is too long.  I just know that it is.  Damien, dude...let someone else edit your next project.  I'm begging you.
• Lauren LeVera is a damn fine actress.  I bought her "big sister" dialogue, and I can safely say that she has a future in bleeding.  Also, how inappropriate would I be if I used this blurb to flagrantly flirt with her?  The alliteration makes it worse somehow, doesn't it?
• Holy entrails, this is a violent motion picture!  I knew it was gory, but fuck.  Y'know, I've been trying to use less profanity lately, but the only words that come to mind on the topic of grue in Terrifier 2 are profane.  Shit, I felt bad for one of Art's victims.  I guess that's a positive takeaway?  Despite Art's coronation as a bonafide merchandise mover?  Question mark?  Emotions are complicated.
• I've read reviews that eulogize the pace.  They say it's "brisk" or they say that the film doesn't feel over two hours long.  These people are incorrect.  I'm sorry, but their opinions are incorrect.  Most friends I know who viewed Terrifier 2 can testify that they viewed it in piecemeal segments.  It's.  Too.  Long.
• I wanted five bullets.  It's an arbitrary number, but I wanted five.  So yeah, this is the fifth bullet.  Are you still reading?  Have you thought about contributing to my Patreon campaign?  No?  Oh.

Blood Capsule #143

RITUAL OF EVIL (1970)

My teeth are still sensitive from a dentist appointment, so forgive me if I'm in a crabby mood.  Ordinarily, I'd be slacking off right now, but these reviews don't write themselves, now do they?  Imagine if Dr. Sorell called in sick.  I wouldn't have a soapy sequel to discuss.  You see, Dr. Sorell - psychiatrist to the stars - is entreated to investigate the dubious circumstances surrounding the suicide of Aline Wiley, a voguish, yet troubled actress.  Louis Jourdan returns from the prior year's Fear No Evil (gratuitous hyperlink alert) to play Dr. Sorell with a cool, possibly aloof hand.  He spans the entire running time sitting comfortably in rococo furniture (because the 60's refused to go without a fight) and interviewing characters of interest.  How much interest?  Well, that's for me to judge.

The script is heavy on histrionic dialogue.  I wasn't kidding about this being a soapy affair.  Everything from the cramped interiors to the unctuous (yes, unctuous) love subplots reeks of daytime.  When Ritual clears its head and decides that it wants to be spooky, it becomes significantly more engaging.  I do have a thing for Satanic cults in the cinema.  This particular teleplay may be defanged in terms of gore, but it's a necessary compromise if you want real atmosphere on network television.  Apparently, this almost became a series.  We got Night Gallery instead.  I can live with that.  If you're into tangible horrors, both Fear and Ritual can be found on Blu-ray.  Or you can stream it somewhere, you lazy pillock.

With all due respect to fumbles...

As WWE's women's division fumbles to position a challenger for Bianca Belair, is there any doubt that Mercedes Mone made the right move?  Not from where I'm sitting.  I caught the replay of NJPW's Battle in the Valley yesterday, and I must admit, the IWGP Women's Championship match succeeded as a main event where Okada/Tanahashi didn't.  Don't get me wrong; the latter collision was fine, but it's a superannuated rivalry.  We've seen it before.  Mone and Kairi delivered something new and fresh.  Meanwhile, WWE delivered the Elimination Chamber, which looked like a drunken fumble recovery.

Huh, I used "fumble" twice.  That can't be a good harbinger of things to come.  Speaking of the future, I'm cancelling my Peacock subscription after Wrestlemania.  I'm paying for too many services every month, and none of them offer cheeseburgers.  Thus, I question their true value.  Later, kids!

Blood Capsule #142

FEAR NO EVIL (1969)

Bearing no resemblance to the 1981 schlocktail of the same name, Fear No Evil is a sultry, measured dollop of made-for-TV horror.  It was actually NBC's first "Movie of the Week."  My expectations were high.  These nuggets from a formal, somewhat austere past may come off as dated, but let's face it; I was in the market for something wholesome.  If you've been paying attention to recent Z'Dar ratings, you know that I've been in a batting slump where b-pictures are concerned.  I was hopeful that a tonal about-face would yield more agreeable results.  The verdict?  Eh, can I plead insanity?  I'm being a drama queen.  This flick didn't rankle my nimbus of equanimity (y'know, I can be a real asshole sometimes), but I didn't exactly leave the theater satisfied.

"Dom," you cut in.  "You watched Fear No Evil at a theater?"  Nope!  Now stop interrupting.  A synopsis would tell you that our teleplay deals with a cursed mirror, but that's only peeling back one layer of the onion.  And believe me; it's an onion.  There is also the matter of a psychologist who suspects that demonology is behind his patient's car accident.  I know it seems like we're in the weeds, but to be perfectly honest, there isn't enough plot here for a feature-length film.  The pace is achingly slow.  Alternatively, I dug the thaumaturgic atmosphere, and while I'm checking off the "pro" column, Lynda Day George gives a robust performance as the grieving lead.  She looks scrumptious, too.

Tune in next time to see if I review the sequel.  Spoiler: I do.

R.I.P. Tim Aymar

The metal community has lost one of its most underrated voices.  Perhaps "underrated" isn't befitting Tim Aymar, as he was rated accurately by those who heard the man belt.  It would be more pertinent to simply say that not enough metalheads had discovered Tim's gift for crafting potent, authoritative melodies that seemed to glide over the most obstreperous of riffs.  Of course, some of the riffs I'm referencing were written by death metal deity Chuck Schuldiner.

I still remember the first time I spun Control Denied's The Fragile Art of Existence.  I was bewildered by Tim's performance.  How was it possible that this unknown cantor came close to upstaging the mighty Chuck?  He could hit astronomical high notes, sure, but he could also manipulate his pharyngeal folds to suit a number of styles.  His unhinged wail was just as impressive as his clean chest tone.  I've always loved the berserk, apoplectic scream that closes "Expect the Unexpected."  And then there is the impassioned singing that supports the midsection of "When the Link Becomes Missing."

I'm only describing one album, but as his fans are well aware, he appeared on a host of other recordings for many different bands.  A little while back, I devoted a column to Pharaoh, a badass power/prog outfit.  Tim left behind a seriously imposing body of work.  For all intents and purposes, he was a good guy outside of the studio as well.  Seventeen years ago (!), he was cool enough to grant an interview with a young freelancer who had no idea what he was doing.  I don't really know what else to say.  It feels weird to even write this.

Rest in peace, Tim.  You rule.

Album Cover of the Whatever

This mean mother was released quietly last year, so don't feel bad if you haven't heard it.  Static Abyss is a hulking death/doom project started by Chris Reifert and Greg Wilkinson of Autopsy fame.  It's positively brutal.  The cover?  Just as brutal.  Awesome stuff all the way around.

Tobe Hooper's "Night Terrors"

Times are a-changing, aren't they?  The moors of society continually shift in an unremitting masquerade of principle and metaphysics.  Philosophy, I guess you could call it.  I was gobsmacked by the parochial convictions held by my own generation just last night.  The Super Bowl halftime show, usually nothing more than tepid candy floss, jumped out at me as being vulgar and excessive.  Me!  And I'm the guy who listens to Cannibal Corpse.  Could it be that I have settled into my skin as a veritable, self-effacing adult?  Dear Lord, I hope not.  Even at thirty-eight years of age, I'm goofy enough to stream Tobe Hooper's "Night Terrors," a title so cumbersome, it doesn't know how to announce itself.

For the record, I'm using quotation marks as an act of rebellion against the late Hooper.  Is that disrespectful?  Good!  What nefarious malfeasance was he trying to perpetrate with this fever blister of a film?  It shouldn't surprise anyone who follows this website to learn that Robert Englund exerted his influence over the production.  No, I wasn't there, but come on.  Can't you see it?  "Tobe, I'm itching to play someone other than Freddy Krueger.  Any role in the world will suffice.  Sodomy!  I want the next character I play to have a predilection for sodomy.  God, I'm such a great actor."  Granted, Hooper wasn't brought in until a disinterested Gerry O'Hara abandoned the project, but my point remains...well, it remains.

It should have been an episode of Unsolved Mysteries, y'know.  Can't you see it?  "What happened to Tobe Hooper's career after the crackerjack splatter fun of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2?  Join me.  Perhaps you may be able to help solve a mystery."  By the way, Robert Stack is far more terrifying than the Marquis de Sade.  I doubt that "Night Terrors" began life as a fright flick.  An inconceivably attractive Zoe Trilling, fresh off the success of Dr. Giggles (top contender for best joke I've ever written), stars as Genie, a girl visiting her archeologist father in Egypt.  Between collecting both dust and boredom, she finds a way to be ensnared by a diabolical sex cult led by - dig this - a descendant of the Marquis de Sade.

At the behest of Robert Englund and presumably no one else, the scream king shoulders dual roles.  Of course, it's unnecessary, and of course, the spectacle is overblown.  "Hammy" doesn't do it justice, but I suppose I prefer this approach to a reserved, apathetic performance.  You can't claim that he isn't trying, God bless him.  I'm uvula-deep into the fourth paragraph and I haven't commented on the pacing.  What's wrong with me?  It's slow, if you're wondering.  Hooper strains to orchestrate some semblance of suspense, but it's all for naught.  I did appreciate the gratuitous nudity.  The charitable shots of Juliano Merr's floppy member I could do without, but it is what it is.

I can't help but think the part of the Marquis was made for Robert Z'Dar.  Can't you see it?  "I don't agree with that gentleman's stance on watersports and what-have-you, but that chin!"  Robert Z'Dar says, "Thanks, but no thanks."

 

Blood Capsule #141

LAKE OF THE DEAD (1958)

Ever feel like a film is above your pay grade?  I mean, do you ever watch "art house" cinema with a blank expression and wonder how it's received by the intellectual elite?  Kare Bergstrom's Lake of the Dead isn't exactly "art house," but I'm man enough to admit that much of the Norwegian chiller's discursive tactics and expository dialogue went right over my head.  Two reasons.  One!  It's ridiculously Norwegian.  Two!  I may have shut my eyes in the second act, the most sluggish of acts.  I did open them again.  It should be noted that I enjoyed Lake for what it is, even if I'm not certain what it is.

So what the hell is it!?  It's a chimerical black-and-white production that borrows from the mystery genre.  Several people get together at a cabin retreat where superstition hangs thick in the fog.  They regale each other with local legends, including a lurid tale of a madman who drowns himself after murdering his sister.  It's all innocuous fun until a malevolent spirit possesses some of the expendable players.  And that's where I'll shut my mouth.  The acting is sharp, but it was hard to warm up to any of the characters.  I took advantage of subtitles, so I don't know if I could claim that something was lost in the translation.  Maybe I should have had Immortal or Mayhem blasting away in the background.

Random metal thoughts...

My brain is currently experiencing a metalliferous gunk-up.  What does that mean?  It means that I have metal opinions and nowhere to dump them.  I could try to talk to strangers at Wal-Mart about the latest Katatonia album, but usually when this happens, I just remind myself that I have a website (hey, I'm almost 40; that's my excuse for being forgetful) and I proceed to unzip the contents of my cranium onto my keyboard.  It's messy, but necessary.

So that new Katatonia album.  It's called Sky Void of Stars, and I want to like it more than I do.  A couple of records ago, the band seemed poised to embrace prog and all of the demure technicality that came with it.  2020 saw the release of City Burials, a calculated step towards accessibility or at least more compact songwriting.  Sky is unsure of itself.  Maybe I'm reading the wrong tea leaves, but these songs are lodged between flat pop sensibilities and intermittent spurts of scorching guitar solos.  It's kind of weird.  NOTE: This isn't a pop record.  That's not what I mean.  Still, Jonas Renkse's vocals sound as though they were imported from a bland pop...thing.

By the way, if my musings come across as disorganized, that's because they are - you guessed it - disorganized.  That's the beauty of random thoughts.  I don't need to make sense.  As it happens, my opinion of Sky is contradictory.  The best moments find Katatonia at their most sullen and rain-slicked (if you told me that they hailed from Seattle, I would believe you).  Other moments are frustratingly rote and generic.  Musically, the album almost feels restrained.  They should have thrown a few Bloodbath riffs into the mix.  Then again, every piece of music ever recorded could stand to be pepsinated with Bloodbath riffs.

Woah, is that where Pepsi got its name?  Holy shit.  Um, I also wanted to talk about Fates Warning.  Looking at their career trajectories, Fates mirrored the progression (pun intended, damn it) made by Queensryche right up to the mid-90's.  They both began as freewheeling power metal units.  If we're judging early material, I don't have a preference.  However, I'm ready to announce that Parallels is the mature hard rock crossover record that Empire wanted to be.  And I dig Empire!  In fact, I reviewed it, but that was years ago and I hate reading my old stuff.  I'll leave it up to you to exhume that corpse.

PS-Shoutout to Tom, the guy responsible for my recent infatuation with Fates Warning.  Man, we have great taste!

Blood Capsule #140

ZONTAR: THE THING FROM VENUS (1967)

Confiscate my b-movie license.  I don't deserve it.  Somehow, I'm just now learning that Larry Buchanan's Zontar: The Thing From Venus is a remake of Roger Corman's It Conquered the World, which explains why several of the script beats felt familiar.  The storyline follows Keith, a NASA scientist who has managed to tune his "space radio" to the right frequency to attract a mélange of bizarre, inimical noises on the other end.  One of those noises is a voice that belongs to Zontar.  With the benefit of hindsight (not to mention the film's title), we know that Zontar is a thing from Venus, but we are not privy to his/her intentions.  Keith is convinced that his alien crony wants to save us from ourselves.  Don't be so naïve, reader.  Could it be that Zontar wants to...destroy us???

Zounds, this is turning out to be a dramatic review.  I won't spoil the ending, but I will impart shrewd, sagacious words of adulation.  Stuff like, "The hokey dialogue is easy to follow."  Anyway, the hokey dialogue is easy to follow.  I've seen John Agar play the straight man in so many sci-fi cheapies, I could probably recite his lines.  Zontar is comfortable entertainment in the same way that licorice is a comfortable midnight snack.  And the creature design is perfection.  It's flippin' beautiful!  I tip my typing wand to the artist responsible for the below drawing.  Be sure to follow the link to check out his/her other works.  No, this isn't a paid advertisement, but I would probably hire this person to decorate the walls of my bedroom.

Click HERE.

My Pretzel Was Stale

Hey-o!  As it was written in the stars (and on this very website), I attended an NXT show last night with a good friend.  I mean, we're just friends right now.  No pressure.  We'll see where it goes, y'know?  Anyway!  The official title was NXT Vengeance Day 2023.  It premiered on Peacock, and while I can't speak to how everything sounded on TV, the live crowd was super hot for most of the matches.  As a matter of fact, several of the talents were more over than I expected, but I'll get to specific wrestlers in a second.  I'm in the mood for an itemized list...

- Wes Lee defended his NXT North American Title in a seesaw contest against Dijak, a former Donovan.  I'll just say it; I don't get Dijak's gimmick.  It's modern pro-wrestling, so I guess that someone has to be the heavy.  Someone has to kidnap weaklings left and right in the backstage area.  If that dude is Dijak, so be it.  I did love his series of barn burners with Keith Lee "back in the day."

- This is where I'll be the cantankerous old duffer and whine about the pacing of matches in 2023.  It seems that the general consensus is that Lee and Dijak had the best bout on the card, but it was also the first bout on the card.  And I'll be damned if they didn't do every move known to man.  What's worse, they extricated way too many false finishes, which is a trend currently plaguing all promotions.  You feel bad for the poor bastards following the opener.  Seriously, how are they supposed to stand out, unless they light each other on fire and/or bleed out onto the mat?

- This is where I'll mention that I enjoyed myself.  Heh.  For my money, NXT is the bottom feeder of (televised) American wrestling, but there's nothing quite like attending a live show.  That's one of the reasons why I jumped at the opportunity to go in spite of the so-so roster.  I knew it would be a blast.  Plus, HBK made an appearance before the PPV started in earnest.  Bonus!

- We don't call them pay-per-views anymore, do we?  Kind of a bummer.  It's the end of an era.

- Apparently, the Chase U guy is a Charlotte native.  He still struggled to evoke a pop.  Chase U is yet another gimmick that I do not understand.  They are committed.  I'll give them that.

- My pretzel was stale!  Yeah, I don't have anything intellectual to add.  Had fun.  Bought a hat.

April Fools Shine On

Can anyone explain the significance of the pre-credits sequence in 1986's Killer Party?  I'm genuinely curious.  It has absolutely nothing (or "fuck-all," if you prefer) to do with the rest of the film, and if I'm being honest, it's not a very catchy song.  Maybe my ears are conked out and there were actually reams of White Sister groupies stalking the Sunset Strip back in the day.  Permissible slasher, though.  This is just a stopgap post before the weekend carries me off to an NXT show.  That's right; I'll be watching live wrestling with a buddy of mine on Saturday night.  No idea if the event itself will provide blogging material, so we'll have to wait and see...

...quick!  "Fools Shine On" was a single released by which 90's rock band?  Don't Google it!  If you're right, you won't win anything, but you can pretend that you're cool for roughly ten seconds.