Sharksploitation

This is less of a review and more of a...comment?  I realize that I'm getting picky at my old age, but Sharksploitation (currently available on Shudder) perfectly embodies an obstacle I face whenever I watch a horror documentary.  If you're new to this title, it's a fervid slice of infotainment that chronicles the popularity of shark movies.  To be a little more specific, it zeroes in on the kind of b-flicks you see shelled out by companies like Asylum (their well-chartered "mockbusters" are on the docket at one point).  And it's a fine film.  It covers appropriate territory with knowledgeable talking heads chiming in here and there.  For me, the most interesting parts looked at the state of ocean-bound fright fare pre-Jaws.

While Sharksploitation clicks as simple textbook fodder, it commits a crime that pretty much every genre documentary commits.  Scholarly voices of reason wind up giving their theories on why we - both nerds and commoners alike - watch these movies.  Apparently, all of us go to horror for base thrills or there is some deeper psychological catalyst behind our interests.  Maybe that's true for the Karens that frequent shopping malls and AMC multiplexes, but am I the only one who still rents monster mashes because...they're cool?  Why does there need to be a rationale beyond digging this stuff for what it is?  I know, I'm thinking too much here.

If there are underlying motivations for consuming horror across all mediums, couldn't it be something other than, "Derp, I like to be scared!"?  I'm struggling to drive my point home.  It's just a trait I notice in most documentaries that purport to explain the appeal of, say, Jason Voorhees.  Carry on.

Dom vs. SpaceDom

I've recently discovered an all-Godzilla channel through Pluto TV, which as you can imagine, isn't very conducive to productivity.  I have plenty of work I could be doing, but there is A LOT happening on Monster Island, people.  I guess now is a "good" time to mention that you can support the site on Patreon (follow thy link).  Depending on the tier you select, you stand to gain NEAT stuff every month by signing up.  You know I'm serious because I'm using ALL CAPS.

Now Playing #6

 

Pressure Points - The Island

Has it already been a month since I last maundered on metal?  A lot has happened in the interim.  For one thing, I've noticed a new subgenre emerging, and I fully support its existence.  I dub thee "Opeth metal."  The Swedish stalwarts may have abandoned their deathly roots, but several pretenders to the throne have taken up the mantle and claimed jurisdiction where the writer(s) of sterling progressive death metal exemplars once resided.  One of them is Pressure Points, a Finnish band that has actually been on my radar for eight years.  Christ, eight years!?  That would mean False Lights came out in 2015, which would also mean that I haven't quite grasped the concept of time.  In any event, that was a cool record.

The Island marks another step forward for these blokes.  Songs are leaner, but they are also more melodic.  Most of the vocals are clean.  I don't see that being a problem for broad-minded fans of this kind of music.  The chorus of "Leaves on the Road" is killer, and I'm digging the synth flourishes on "Two Moons."  Check out Pressure Points if you jam Vinsta, Stormhaven, and yeah, Opeth.

Emperor - XI Equilibrium

Here lately, I've been going back and tuning into the building blocks of Norwegian black metal.  All of the main players have been fair game, especially Immortal and the subject of this blurb.  Emperor helped hatch the much-lauded second wave, but normally, metalheads only apotheosize their first two albums.  Sure, Nightside and Anthems are both classics, but why does the nostalgia end there?  Hell, back in my formative days (I call it B.C. - Before Corpse), I read more positive reviews of 2001's Prometheus than I did Equilibrium.  And Prometheus is my favorite Emperor dish, but I'm here to make certain that their third long player gets a little love.

From the very start of "'Curse You All Men!," this is a fierce, bellicose affair.  For lack of a more suitable adjective, these tunes are just pissed off.  All of Ihsahn's quirks (the proggy leads, the shrill King Diamond shrieks) make sense in the context of the tracklist and add to Equilibrium's disquieting atmosphere.  Choice cuts?  "An Elegy of Icaros"' and "Sworn," if I had to pick a couple at gunpoint.  Man, that would be a bizarre scenario.  Or is it customary for, say, gang members to ask about your preferred black metal songs before sending a bullet through your brainpan?

Random Match Alert

An early bout between Manami Toyota and Bull Nakano.  Watch.  Learn.  Love.

Blood Capsule #155

PYTHON (2000)

Why the hell did I watch this movie?  I have a theory.  Earlier in the week, we had a death in the family (my uncle).  It's possible that I have discovered a hitherto unknown stage of grief that involves Robert Englund and CGI serpents.  I don't mean to make light of a loss.  Actually, this is the kind of flick my uncle would have enjoyed.  It's not entirely relevant, but I have him to thank for renting Tales From the Crypt: Demon Knight for me at a time when I was probably too young to watch it.  In any event, Python follows the vermicular (word of the day) cargo of a downed plane in the small town of Ruby.  Obviously, the genetically-enhanced snake becomes loose.  And obviously, Casper Van Dien saw to it that he wriggled into the cast.

If you're willing to play ball, so to speak, Python is an innocuous sit for 75-80 minutes.  Unfortunately, it runs for 99 minutes.  The climax just does not want to end.  But like I said, this is a decent way to kill an afternoon.  The acting is serviceable, the bloodshed is manifest, and the special effects, while dated, aren't nearly as bad as you might think.  Does it measure up to Anaconda?  No, it most certainly does not.  However, it has its cornball heart in the right place, and it reminded me of an era where the direct-to-video market was bustling with titles that were worth your while.  For the record, Python rates low on the Robert Englund Overacting Scale.  To give you some idea, it's a few notches below Strangeland.  I need someone to draw up a visual aid for this thing.

Break

There has been a death in the family, so I'm going to take a few days off.  Just thought I'd let you know.

Blood Capsule #154

MY DEMON LOVER (1987)

There's a reason why I don't fall for romantic comedies.  Aside from the obvious, I find that most of them don't adhere to reality.  When the horror genre is adulterated with rom-com sensibilities, the end result isn't much different.  Case in point, My Demon Lover.  We're supposed to believe that a stupidly cute pushover of a gal (Denny - I always forget to include their names) is smitten with a street musician whose "game" is about as subtle as a chisel-peen hammer to the prairie oysters.  Y'know, the knackers.  The gonads!  If this flick were being honest, our leading creep would be slapped with a restraining order so fast, the tape would rewind itself.  But no, Denny is inexplicably enamored by the slovenly Kaz.  His scruffy looks are only one point against him.  Another?

Well, he turns into a literal demon when he is sexually aroused.  I'm talking horns and everything.  You'd think that would be presented as the core conflict, but the script interjects with an opposing demon.  If that sounds remarkably preposterous, that's because...yeah.  Hey, I love wacky stuff from the 80's, but this doesn't fit the bill.  On the glowing side of the spectrum, things move at an industrious clip, and I did appreciate the make-up effects.  Shout Factory is slated to release My Demon Lover on Blu-ray this September.  My birthday is in September.  How about that?  If you care about me at all, you'll pay the suggested retail price to keep it on a shelf in a warehouse.  Or flowers.  You could buy me flowers.

Album Cover of the Whatever

Wanna know how nerdy I am?  I'm currently listening to Cellophane, a nondescript rock band from my favorite decade (the 90's, natch).  "That doesn't sound terribly nerdy, Dom."  Oh, hold on.  I'm listening to this band because they have a song I like on the Wishmaster soundtrack.  Beat that!  I'm only mentioning this to show that I'm not above the "dungeon synth" crowd.  Today's album cover (of the whatever) is a split between Celestial Sword and Erzfeynd, a release that festers in the atmoblack/dungeon synth scene.  Is it a scene?  I'm calling it a scene.  And it's not really my bag, but cool artwork!

Insidious: The Red Door

In the run-up to Insidious: The Red Door, I had planned on watching the first four installments.  That was the plan.  In actuality, I think I spent the night before on YouTube searching for White Lion videos and old Kool-Aid commercials.  Yeah, I don't have much of a social life.  To the contrary, I did see Red Door with a friend.  Halfway through the film, I turned to him and confessed my boredom.  He responded by admitting that he had no idea what was happening on-screen.  That should give you a general idea of where I fall on this one.  I remember digging the original.  This sequel shares that film's predilection for character building, but once the key players are established, the script doesn't know what to do with them.  A perfunctory synopsis, if I may...

Josh Lambert consults a psychic for the sole purpose of being hypnotized.  The idea is to forget the last year of his life, which has seen his son fall into a coma.  The son (let's assume he has a name...like, I don't know, Dalton) receives the same treatment.  Nine years later, Dalton is about to peregrinate on a campus life and do the "art school" thing.  He tries to proceed as normal, but certain memories, veiled in fog, flood back into the recesses of his mind.  They are angular at first.  They don't make a lot of sense, and as if they weren't intrusive enough, they spark a new habit - astral projection.  It isn't long before he starts spotting dead people.  Meanwhile, Josh is experiencing the same kind of lucid nightmares.

What does it all mean?  After roughly 40 minutes of aloof exposition and fake-out jump scares, you won't really care.  What's worse, you still have an hour to kill before the end credits roll.  I'll give Red Door this much; it sidesteps the irritating cliché where no one believes the main character when he/she is telling them the truth about ghostly goings-on.  Even the co-ed buddy (Sinclair Daniel as the wisecracking Chris) gives Dalton the benefit of the doubt.  So that was refreshing.  The rest of this motion picture...eh, I'm not sure that "refreshing" is the word I would use to describe it.  Maybe stodgy or tedious?  There should have been multiple editors on the payroll.

Patrick Wilson tried his hand at directing, for some reason.  The visuals are glossy and well-lacquered, but the pace is slower than pond water.  That's pretty slow.  In the olden days, it was popular to say "wait for the video" in reference to a dull flick showing at the local multiplex.  Unless you're a completionist, I would urge you to wait until Insidious: The Red Door hits streaming platforms.  That doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?  You know what?  Wait for the video!  It might be a longer wait, but in this case, you'll be glad that you didn't rush out the door.  Why, your future hinges on your decision.  It's a lock.  Okay, I'm done.

 

Rassle Inn #42

"Now is a great time to be a wrestling fan."  Ever heard that before?  I swear, it's just something that people like to say.  Whether it's true or not, it seems that I hear it just about every year.  It couldn't possibly always be a great time to be a wrestling fan.  It was a popular aphorism when AEW pitched their tent in 2019.  Fair enough, but what about 2020?  The pandemic put a swift end to live shows, and it would be years before crowds in Japan were even allowed to cheer at the Tokyo Dome.  What about 2023?  Well, I suspect that it might actually be a great time to be a wrestling fan.  You thought this was going to be a negative piece, didn't you?  I don't blame you.

Last night, CM Punk and Samoa Joe went to war nearly twenty years after battling it out in ROH.  It was a fun match, but it probably wasn't the highlight of Collision.  That would have to be the tag team bout between FTR and Bullet Club Gold (Jay White and Juice Robinson).  They're going two-out-of-three falls next week, so you know I'll be watching.  And then there is the other company.  Man, I never thought that WWE would cultivate buzz on the strength of its product alone.  Likewise, I didn't see any legitimate stars being shaped in the modern day, but here we are.  Roman Reigns has reached "dude" status.  His Bloodline co-stars aren't too far behind either.

For the first time in a long time, I make it a point to switch the tube over to Smackdown every Friday night.  If ratings are any indication, I'm not the only one.  This past Friday, the opening segment lasted 36 minutes.  When the hell has that ever happened?  Stunningly, the show retained its audience during that span, and I bet if you asked the average viewer, they would tell you that it felt like ten minutes.  They are doing something right.  But who is "they"?  Ah, that's the question.  Vince McMahon was reported to be backstage, but I have to think his influence is limited.  Maybe I'm in denial.  Could it be that this brilliant angle has been filtered through his tapered lens?  I don't know.  I don't know and, for right now, it doesn't matter.  It remains a great time to be a wrestling fan.  Until the next show anyway.

If both companies deteriorate, at least I have evil Doink to keep me company.  It's still 1993, right?

Random Match Alert

In late 1992, WWF's Golden Era was about to give way to the much-maligned New Generation, as evidenced by this sweet match.  High Energy and Max motherf*cking Moon (God, I love this gimmick) take on The Genius who is flanked by The Beverly Brothers (super underrated tag team, in retrospect).  You know you love it.

Blood Capsule #153

RABID GRANNIES (1988)

I should never watch behind-the-scenes footage after sitting through a tawdry, cheapjack b-movie.  It colors my opinion of the film.  How so?  Well, when you see how hard everyone worked on set, clearly driven by their passion for the "business" of cinematic scares, you feel a little guilty for rebuking their efforts.  I don't know if an apology is in order, but I'm sorry, gang; I didn't have fun with Rabid Grannies.  It's not a bad production per se.  One factor tarnishing my viewing experience can be chalked up to technicalities.  I should explain.  The mostly French cast struggled to recite their English dialogue, so their lines were (poorly) dubbed.  As a result, I couldn't understand half of what these folks were saying, and no, English subtitles were not available.

That leaves us with...eh, it doesn't leave us with much of anything.  On the positive side, this flick is abounding with all manner of in-camera effects that will please fans of the old school.  Our monsters - elderly victims of demonic possession - are cool, but I kept waiting for them to reach a far-out stage of mutation that just didn't come.  I'm being picky, I know.  The gore is nice, and while the script never settles on a main character, we do see ancillary boobs.  Hey, ancillary boobs are better than no boobs at all, right?  At the end of a rainy day, Rabid Grannies may not be the Troma powerhouse it purports to be, but you've seen worse.  I shouldn't be so presumptuous.  Maybe you haven't seen worse.  In which case, you're living a charmed life, and you probably aren't scouring the web for horror reviews.

Geek Out #164

Watched this a few nights ago.  I remember...falling asleep.  Should I give it another whirl?  Okay, you convinced me.