Blood Capsule #252

THE EVIL (1978)

If I didn't switch up subgenres and keep a fairly motley range of films in my viewing rotation, I might have balked at the clichés found in The Evil.  Truth be told, it has been a month of Sundays since I took in an "old dark house" relic.  And this is a pretty good one.  The plot is simple enough.  A group of psychologists hole up in an abandoned mansion with the aim of using it as a rehabilitation clinic.  There are ghosts.  End of synopsis.  Richard Crenna plays C.J., the resident skeptic, and he seems a bit reserved.  Joanna Pettet turns in a solid performance as the supernaturally susceptible wife.  I have to wonder why she doesn't speak up when she sees spooky spirits ten minutes into the thing, but I guess that's where suspension of disbelief comes into clarity.  You have to meet these characters halfway.  Admittedly, I was a willing participant.

If you can look past ungainly dialogue, there are plenty of goose pimples to go around.  I loved the in-camera effects, especially the shots I couldn't see through.  The Evil supplies impeccable entertainment for a cold, blustery night.  I would have no compunction about awarding it four Z'Dars if it weren't for the silly ending.  This is a "no spoiler" zone, but what the hell?  Were there any test screenings?  If so, did the producers chuck the notes into the nearest wastebasket?  Still, I suggest giving The Evil a whirl.  It's a grand slice of low-key 70's horror, even with the disappointing finale.  Recommended to fans of The Legacy, The Legend of Hell House, and any version of The Old Dark House.  And A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child.  Just kidding...had to make sure you were paying attention.

Announcement announcement!

Next Friday, I'll be announcing the theme for February.  Yep, I'm doing another theme month where every Blood Capsule falls under specific guidelines.  The image above is a clue.  The question is, what are Abbott and Costello reacting to?  Try to guess.  If you guess correctly, you will win...nothing!

Blood Capsule #251

FROGMAN (2023)

I don't know why I added this film to my collection.  I would say the price was right, but it really wasn't.  To top it off, Frogman employs the "found footage" gimmick.  This is a subgenre that usually leaves me cold, so I had no business sitting down and trying to enjoy this thing.  But you know what?  I enjoyed this thing.  It has the same exoskeleton as The Blair Witch Project.  I know, that's an obvious touchstone, but hang with me.  You don't know where I'm going.  You have entered "hot take" territory, by the way.  Try this on for size; Frogman is the movie that Blair Witch wanted to be.  Do I sound insane yet?  I can't help it.  Frogman is simply more absorbing.  I realize that no one asked me to make this comparison, but both flicks follow three root characters as they try to validate a cryptid.  In this case, it's the Frogman of Ohio, a real local legend that has proven to be a hit with tourists.

Horror is just as subjective as comedy or science fiction, so you may not warm up to the main players as much as I did.  If I wasn't won over by Dallas, Amy, and Scotty, Frogman would have flopped.  They have genuine chemistry, more so than the three filmmakers in Blair Witch.  Okay, I'll drop it.  Why do I have a feeling that I'm in the vast minority here?  Frogman isn't pitch-perfect.  If you think about the concept too long, you'll begin to see holes in the architecture, so to speak.  I still had fun unraveling the mystery of the titular polliwog.  Special effects are used sparingly, but we do get...well, I won't spoil anything.  Even if you don't care for Frogman, you must concede that it's better than 1972's Frogs.  It's a whitewash (or a greenwash).

Best of?

Actual photograph of me listening to music.

Give me another week or two, and I'll be ready to deliver my list of the Best Albums of 2024.  I want to make sure I hear as much as possible.  That's proving to be quite the challenge, as I discover new bands on a daily basis.  If I didn't have an Internet connection, the list would be compiled by now.  But of course, I wouldn't be able to share it with all of you, now would I?

Blood Capsule #250

BUG (1975)

I couldn't find my copy of 1979's Bog, and I've already seen 1988's Big.  So that leaves us with Bug, the last film written by intrepid showman William Castle.  Actually, this was Castle's final project in any capacity.  I rented it back in Netflix's "red envelope" era, but I didn't get a chance to watch it before mailing it back.  It's just as well.  I don't think I was ready for this flick.  I was fresh out of high school and still teething as a horror fanatic.  Bug would have been too weird for me then, but now?  I'm able to eat this stuff up.  Given the release date, you might expect it to be a paint-by-numbers "creepy crawly" vehicle a la Tarantulas: The Deadly Cargo.  And it starts by taking that route, but Castle throws in an earthquake for good measure.  When tectonic plates convulse in a rural area on the outskirts of San Francisco, roach-like insects are vaulted to the surface.  These aren't your everyday insectoids, though.  Paragraph!

Break!  The formerly subterranean bugs make sparks fly - both literally and figuratively - by rubbing their legs together.  Professor Parmiter compares them to boy scouts.  Of course, I don't know many boy scouts who singe through human flesh and cause small explosions around town.  Castle gets a sick thrill out of setting up gross-out scares.  I mean, you can't blame him.  The scenes in which the pyromaniac pests nestle beneath a telephone receiver and perch on a woman's shoulder are undoubtedly effective.  Pacing-wise, Bug is a slow burn (no pun intended).  The film shifts gears at the hour mark as Parmiter slowly loses his wits.  This is probably where most viewers check out, but to me, the third act is what sets Bug apart from its contemporaries.  I dig the fact that we get to witness the scientist before and after he goes mad.  Plus, you feel as though you're going insane with the mad scientist.

The near-apocalyptic finale is glorious.  It's all guns blazing, to steal an idiom from Rob Halford.  Recommended to fans of The Tingler and boll weevils.

The Japanese one-sheet.

Reptilicus comic book!?

If you glance over at the Upcoming Review Schedule, you'll notice that I'll be talking about a certain "giant reptile" flick on the first day of 2025.  Hate to ruin the surprise, but yeah, it's Reptilicus.  I just couldn't wait to talk about this, though.  What is this?  It's a movie tie-in Reptilicus comic book pumped out by Charlton Comics.  Charlton has also published comics for Konga and Gorgo.  They were a low-budget company that was absorbed by DC upon going "tits up," as the Brits would say.

Officially, there are two issues of Reptilicus.  The copyright lapsed before Charlton got around to releasing a third issue, so the series pivoted to become Reptisaurus the Terrible for the rest of its run.  I live for this kind of random sci-fi/horror media, so you better believe I bought a copy.  To be exact, I bought #2.  For whatever reason, the first issue is exorbitantly priced on eBay.  It's borderline unreasonable, if you ask me.  Maybe someday.  I do plan on buying at least a couple issues of Reptisaurus the Terrible because...well, how can I not?

Interestingly, Reptilicus #2 seems to be a sequel of sorts to the film.  By the way, I don't love Reptilicus.  But it's Reptilicus!  It's kind of fascinating if you're a jaded horror scholar.  The only thing more enjoyable than nonsense is obscure nonsense.  The comic itself is super fun.  It's filled to the brim with gratuitous exclamation points and ridiculous alliteration.  Despite the fact that this intellectual property continued as Reptisaurus the Terrible, the titular snake-dragon is vanquished in the end.  I'm curious as to how the story is stretched out (beyond reason, I'm sure).

So there you have it.  I will soon be your number one source for Reptilicus information.  Check out my Patreon?

Blood Capsule #249

SCARED STIFF (1987)

As long as I can keep finding mid-level horrors stuck in the nether-realms of obscurity, I'll keep reviewing them.  And I'll be a happy dude.  Some might say that Scared Stiff had a low budget, but those people haven't seen the films that I have.  This is downright cushy entertainment.  As for why it's obscure, I would just put the blame on oversaturation.  This isn't a bad movie per se.  At first, you think you're slinking into a traditional scare pic, as it operates within a well-trodden "haunted house" framework.  A pop star (named Kate, I think) moves into a new abode with her son and her psychiatrist boyfriend.  Naturally, the place has a cryptic, blood-freezing past.  The former tenant was a wicked slave owner.  He was so wicked, in fact, that his slaves conjured up a confusing hex involving amulets and old-fashioned thaumaturgy.  Could the house itself be cursed?  That would explain the bones in the attic.  You didn't know about the bones in the attic, did you?

Scared Stiff is a tale of two halves.  For a good 45 minutes, it does the thing where one person reports having seen supernatural activity and no one believes them.  That...that was annoying.  But then the rubber meets the road (or whatever).  In this case, the rubber is a latex monster mask that literally comes to life.  Director Richard Friedman has fun with inventive dream sequences, and astonishingly, manages to capture a few creepy images.  Kudos to child actor Josh Segal.  I believed that he was traumatized (at least I hope he was acting).  The music video angle is a tad silly, but it was 1987.  The soundtrack has its fans.  I know this because I have an Internet connection.  Scared Stiff isn't going to blow anyone away, but it does enough to warrant a weekend recommendation.  If it premiered on Shudder today, it would be hailed as a "masterclass in folk horror."  So there's that.

My thoughts on Werewolves...

It seems that Werewolves is a little late on the trend train, but that's the least of its problems.  I have to sigh...I wanted to have dumb fun with this flick.  It's important to note that it has "studio notes" written all over it.  I don't believe for a second that this is the film that director Steven C. Miller wanted to deliver to the moviegoing public.  Not only does it feel like there are chunks missing from the narrative, it feels like there is a whole movie sitting on the editing room floor.  Werewolves is a sequel to something we never saw.  I mean, the werewolves look cool.  That's the only positive comment I can put together.  Yikes.

"Is it that bad, Dom?"  Yes, it's that bad.  Run-of-the-mill characters are introduced to be slain a few scenes later, and we're supposed to react as if we care.  The strobe lighting makes it impossible to see much of anything.  The camera is always too close to the action.  The arbitrary plot is swarming with holes.  The acting from some of the supplementary players is objectively off-target.  I repeat, yikes.

In a random bit of near-stunt casting, Lou Diamond Phillips shows up for two or three scenes as Dr. Exposition.  What on Earth drew him to Werewolves?  His inclusion made me realize that I should have just watched Bats again.

Blood Capsule #248

NIGHT OF THE DEMONS 2 (1994)

Here we have another flick that just missed the cutoff for Random Sequel Month (a second edition may be in order).  I'll start by establishing a base.  I love, love, love Kevin Tenney's Night of the Demons.  Apart from the admittedly drowsy third act, it stands as one of the most accomplished party movies out there.  The autumnal vibes are real.  While this follow-up doesn't have the sick opening credits animation of its forebear, it does come correct with cauldrons of spooky atmosphere.  Angela's mousy sister attends a Catholic school where authority figures allow for a flavorless, buttoned-up Halloween party.  Of course, we follow a group of friends with more adventurous plans.  Why not go to Hull House?  A quick interjection, if I may...where did this trope come from?  Honestly, has a group of young people ever chosen to do something like this in reality?  Sorry, that's always bugged me.

It isn't long before Angela is up to her old tricks.  Our ensemble of attractive co-eds manages to skirt by alright (thanks, in part, to skirts), but I missed Stooge and Suzanne.  Okay, I missed Suzanne.  I don't see why Linnea Quigley can't appear in every single movie I watch.  Don't get me wrong; the acting is serviceable.  However, I spent the bulk of the running time waiting for the characters to die in ghastly, salacious ways.  To that end, Night of the Demons 2 delivers in the home stretch.  I'm going to make a bold statement.  The last ten minutes are kinda brilliant.  Seriously, Angela's serpent form?  Pure nightmare fuel.  Alas, the first eighty minutes are inconsistent at best.  Random trivia!  Director Brian Trenchard-Smith helmed Leprechaun 3 and Leprechaun 4: In Space.  Oddly, two of the folks in this film - Zoe Trilling and, um, Guy with Stupid Hair - also pop up in Dr. Giggles.  So now you know.

Break?

I own way too many R.L. Stine books.  I've started three of them, and I have no idea if I'll finish one of them.  But that's irrelevant.  The point of this post is to say that I might take a break from writing Blood Capsules?  When I first started the Upcoming Review Schedule, I was five reviews ahead of the curve.  I figured that's where it would stay, but at press time, I'm ten reviews deep.  All written, all ready to go.  So I could easily take a break for the holidays.

And yet, I do enjoy writing these things, even if no one reads them.  Honestly, this proposed "break" might only last a few days.  Also!  I'm pondering a sequel to Random Sequel Month.  Yay or nay?  Let a cripple know, yo.

Blood Capsule #247

STING OF DEATH (1966)

For the sake of convenience, I'm going to refer to the monster in this movie as a were-jellyfish.  It's actually a Portuguese man o' war.  Yes, there is a difference, and no, I don't care enough to renumerate those differences.  Who do I look like, George Costanza?  Anyway, it's more fun saying "were-jellyfish."  You might be wondering if this creature is beholden to a transformation cycle.  The moon is moot, but a man does mutate into a gelatinous marine predator with tendrils and a bell (a trash bag), to boot.  The man is Egon, the deformed assistant to noted biologist Dr. Richardson.  They have a compound in the Everglades where they experiment on various aquatic lifeforms.  When college kids crash the place and mock poor Egon, bikini-clad babes turn up dead or missing.  Purple terror ensues.

This is a spirited mish-mash of The Horror of Party Beach and...Gidget maybe?  You can substitute any "beach party" movie.  For instance, I was reminded of Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine on more than one occasion.  If I had to hazard a guess, I would put the budget in the five-digit range.  That's lowballing it, but I must admit, Sting of Death is gorgeous.  I dig the crisp underwater photography and the bizarro lighting that makes everything look like an Easter egg.  On the downside, you have to wade through a lot of Neil Sadaka songs to get to the good stuff.  Patience is rewarded, so I advise you to "do the jellyfish."  NOTE: Performing such an act may result in chills and/or fatigue.  Sting of Death is commonly associated with 1966's Death Curse of Tartu, as they were both directed by William Grefe.  Of course, I own the double feature DVD (thank you, Something Weird).

Recommended to fans of bioluminescence and volleyball.

The Spanish one-sheet.

Random Match Alert

I was going to post a match relating to last night's Survivor Series, but that wouldn't be very random, now would it?  Besides, this is an awesome find.  Bret Hart squares off against Hakushi inside a steel cage...!  WWE needs to promote whomever is in charge of uploading dark matches to YouTube.

Blood Capsule #246

VOODOO DAWN (1990)

The unexpected passing of Tony Todd earlier this year pushed me to explore more of his resume.  And I found this.  I still don't know what to make of it, so you'll have to excuse my state of...bewilderment (?) as I try to parse my way through this Blood Capsule.  I'm proud of the fact that I've turned uncovering obscure horror films into a gimmick, but it's not always a desirable gig.  Sometimes, you encounter something like Voodoo Dawn, a film that should rock on paper (I need to figure out a way to work "scissors" into the next sentence...um, I'm open to suggestions).  Get a load of this premise; Tony Todd plays a voodoo priest who is mining severed limbs to stitch together a Frankenzombie.  This creature is meant to lead a zombie army, and no, I'm not kidding.  That's the good news.  The bad?  Voodoo Dawn actively refuses to entertain the viewer.

I swear, the film itself was just as bored as I was.  Gina Gershon shows up as a Southern belle who toils away on a farm in the middle of nowhere.  I'm assuming she was also bored and that her Southern accent just stemmed from abject laziness.  By the way, the script seems to comment on migrant labor, but I can't identify the actual comment.  Anyway, she hitchhikes with a pair of students, and after accomplishing nothing together (we literally watch them fall asleep), they run into Candyman's confused cousin.  Todd wields a machete, but I don't remember seeing much slasher-style gore.  I don't remember seeing this movie, folks.  'Tis a shame.  It could have been a contender.  Why two Z'Dars?  Well, there are traces of body horror in the guise of what can only be described as a "root demon."  The effects are nice.  That's all.  I wouldn't reprioritize your life to hunt this one down.

My advice?  Watch Candyman again.

Album Cover of the Whatever

If you Google "Morbus Chron," you'll find information on...Crohn's disease.  You'll also find information on Morbus Chron, a Swedish band who released Sleepers in the Rift in 2011.  Apart from having some of my favorite album artwork of all time (I mean, look at it), Sleepers also contains big, bony death metal that sends me into a headbanging fit.  I'm headbanging right now!  That has to count for something, considering I type with my head.

Blood Capsule #245

I, MONSTER (1971)

Curly fries.  I treated myself to a generous portion of curly fries directly before viewing this film.  And that, dear reader, may have been a mistake.  My night turned into a contentious battle between grease and I, Monster.  I would say that Christopher Lee and company carried the day, even if my eyelids did grow heavier than granite helicopters (???).  Right, so this is an Amicus reworking of Robert Louis Stephenson's Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  Names have been changed to protect the fictional.  Actually, I don't know why the names were changed, but regardless, Christopher Lee plays the erudite Dr. Marlowe.  He is experimenting with a formula that seemingly transposes your personality.  Or something to that effect.  He uses his patients as guinea pigs (he's a psychologist by trade), which is an interesting wrinkle that I haven't seen in other variants on the Jekyll/Hyde dynamic.

Eventually, he injects himself with the frightening pharmaceutical.  And if he had done it just the one time, he would have escaped from his dummy run unscathed.  But of course, he returns for repeat business, and the effects of the stimulant intensify with each dose.  It probably won't surprise you that I, Monster has a conspicuous Universal vibe to it.  Make-up is relatively minimal.  That allows for Lee to act his brains out.  The cast also includes Peter Cushing, so yay.  I wish they had more scenes together, but I'll take what I can get.  I, Monster is visually fetching.  Director Stephen Weeks uses a lot of crooked camera angles to accentuate the mood.  Ironically, Hammer issued their own take on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde a decade earlier.  In my opinion, this is the better flick, but you have to be in the right frame of mind to appreciate it.  In other words, put down the curly fries.

My first impressions of the new Marilyn Manson album...

If you go to YouTube to watch any of the new Marilyn Manson videos, you'll notice that the comments have been turned off.  I'd say that speaks volumes.  Just as telling is the fact that Manson has done very little to promote One Assassination Under God outside of touring.  No interviews means no wiggle room for journalists to ask uncomfortable questions.  Make no mistake, this is all premeditated.  These plans have been carefully laid out to suppress any potential noise that might get in the way of releasing new music.  And so far, so good.  Manson's devotees are all about it from the looks of things.  Allegations?  What allegations?

As a listener, I would be conflicted if this album was genuinely spellbinding.  First impressions being what they are, don't take my word as gospel (lolz), but what I'm hearing could be described as A.I. Marilyn Manson.  Stylistically, everything is stripped back.  Songwriting is basic and repetitive.  He's certainly not doing anything new here, although it's worth pointing out that he won't have to break new ground to please the die-hards.  Lyrically, he seems to enjoy playing the victim, which is just hysterical.  Don't you know he's a martyr?  He doesn't have to accept responsibility for anything.  I can't imagine that he'll be able to dodge every legal arrow that comes his way, but again, so far, so good.

A quick note on a few of the tracks - "Nod if You Understand" is the only song that displays real grit.  Nothing else is remotely heavy.  "Sacrilegious" is a "Disposable Teens" knockoff, while "Meet Me in Purgatory" is phenomenally bland.  You might be wondering why I listened at all.  At one point, I was a staunch fan.  The dude remains an interesting case study, if nothing else.  I reviewed four of his albums, so I did want to chime in on One Assassination Under Todd (in-joke alert).

To be clear, I think he's a reprehensible dickbag.  Yeah.

Blood Capsule #244

ABERRATION (1997)

This movie didn't leave much of an impression on me, but I have to document my viewing experience somehow, don't I?  Ordinarily, I wouldn't.  You see, Aberration does not pass muster.  It barely qualifies as horror.  A woman looks to spend some time alone at a remote cabin and winds up playing "whack a mole" opposite a gaggle of mutant lizards.  When I say "gaggle," I mean...eh, a handful.  The stakes aren't very high.  In fact, this "infestation" is manageable for most of the running time.  Why am I using so many quotation marks?  That has to be a red flag.  Anyway, Aberration only becomes a bloodbath in the last 15-20 minutes, but I was already zoned out.  Shockingly, there are a couple of explosion set pieces.  Do you know what that means?  It means a respectable budget was frittered away, relatively speaking.  I would blame Hollywood, but this thing was shot in New Zealand.

So there you have it.  Aberration doesn't deserve a second paragraph.  There is a flash of embarrassing CGI at one point.  It's rewind-worthy.  Heaven, help me.

Now Playing #16

Jerry Cantrell - I Want Blood

I'm just as much of a Jerry Cantrell freak as I am an Alice in Chains freak.  His first two solo albums are some of my favorite pieces of music ever recorded by man.  2021's Brighten proved to be an interesting digression, though I was expecting 2024 to be an Alice year.  Sadly, it is not.  Does the release of I Want Blood mean that AIC is currently kaput or out of commission, you may ask?  Jesus, I hope not.  Don't scare me like that.  I'm just grateful that Jerry recorded something, even if I consider this set to be a "grower."  Yeah, I wasn't crazy about this album at first.  The songs came across as Devil Put Dinosaurs Here b-sides.  The more I listened to them, however, the more I realized that I shouldn't complain about hearing Jerry's leftovers.  That's if they are leftovers (to be fair, they don't seem to be...from what I've read anyway).

The driving title track is stuck in my head.  "Off the Rails" has a sick guitar solo (of course, most of the tunes have a sick guitar solo).  "Echoes of Laughter" recalls the rustic grain of Brighten, while "Let it Lie" wields one of those note-bending riffs.  You know the kind (see "It Ain't Like That" off of Facelift).  Does I Want Blood come anywhere near the majesty of Boggy Depot or Degradation Trip?  Nope.  Will it tide me over until Alice's triumphant return?  Yep.  I hope I don't have to wait three years.

Vuur - In This Moment We Are Free (Cities)

Former Gathering throat Anneke van Giersbergen is one of my favorite female vocalists in metal.  "But Dom, she hasn't been in a metal band since the 90's."  Ah, you haven't heard Vuur!  Granted, the project is listed as "on hold" over at The Metal Archives, but they did release a banger of an album in 2017.  I remember that autumn very well.  I listened to Cities, like, a lot.  So what made me listen to it this past week?  Dude, I have no idea, but I'm totally glad that I rediscovered it.  If I had to drop it in a subgenre bucket, I would go with "progressive djent."  Don't run away.  Normally, I'm not into djent, but I would be if every djent band was fronted by Anneke.  If you need convincing, listen to "My Champion" or "The Martyr and the Saint."  I could listen to her angelic melodies over bluegrass.  Something about her phrasing, I don't know...I heart her.

I don't know why I started another paragraph.  I was going to make a point, but it left me.  Check out Vuur (not to be confused with the post-metal stylings of Vuur & Zijde).

Blood Capsule #243

THE HAUNTING OF MORELLA (1990)

I have a theory.  I think that Jim Wynorski, drunk on power and other spirits, accidentally made a decent little movie here.  The mission statement could not have included quality control.  No, I don't believe for a second that Jim (we're on a first-name basis, I'm sure) aimed any higher than sex and blood.  But something strange happened, dear reader.  Something mysterious.  Something cabalistic.  Something impenetrably anagogic!  As I was watching The Haunting of Morella, I noticed that I was beginning to...care...about the characters.  How could this be, you ask!?  I don't know.  It has to be said that a nascent Nicole Eggert actually tries in a dual role as her own mother.  A prologue establishes that Morella was a witch.  Because this is a period piece, she is blinded by torches, and in effect, burned at the stake.  Seventeen years later, her daughter is consumed by a paragraph break.

Clearly, Morella wants to live/kill vicariously through her daughter.  The script is not "chef's kiss" material, but at the very least, I can say that I wanted to see how the plot would resolve itself.  Ol' Jim tosses in plenty of cemeteries and lightning storms to maintain optimal levels of atmosphere.  And boobs.  Dear God, there are enough boobs to nurture an entire nation of starving babies.  Sorry, that's an unfortunate image.  I'm not certain if this film deserves the kind of standoffish acclaim you would give to art that was adequate in spite of itself.  And yet, The Haunting of Morella is adequate in spite of itself.  Take my rating with a silo of salt.  Random trivia!  Are you sitting down?  Screenwriter R.J. Robertson is also responsible for Munchie and Beastmaster 2: Through the Portal of Time.  Feel free to digest that information any way you want.

My thoughts on the new Blood Incantation album...

I was going to save this for the next edition of Now Playing, but at press time, there is too much music that demands my attention.  I'll be honest (for once); I wasn't sold on this record on the first spin.  I felt that Blood Incantation's dalliance with 70's space rock had crept too far into the death metal arena.  But like I said, that was the first spin.  I am currently enjoying my tenth spin, give or take.  This stuff has grown on me.  A Creepshow analogy, if I may...I am to Absolute Elsewhere what Jordy Verrill is to meteor shit.  I'm digging the cosmic textures, the keyboard (and guitar) solos, and even the occasional patch of clean vocals.  If you weren't privy, Elsewhere is comprised of two 20-minute movements.  Both "The Stargate" and "The Message" sound fresh to my ears.

I've often lamented the stale state of modern death metal, so I can't gripe when a band actually does something different.  I understand if it's not your cup of herbal tea, though.  My personal favorite Blood Incantation release is still Starspawn.  That's subject to change in a couple of years.  Keep your eyes gouged for a new Now Playing sometime next week-ish!

Blood Capsule #242

CELLAR DWELLER (1988)

What do you get when you combine the creative brain trust behind Empire Pictures with a groovy script written by Don Mancini?  Don't answer just yet.  Imagine handing that script over to director John Carl Buechler, the enterprising special effects guru responsible for Troll and (most of) The Dungeonmaster.  Okay, now add a killer creature suit and a talented cast spearheaded by Yvonne De Carlo (yes, Lily Munster herself).  If you didn't know, what you get is one of the most entertaining horror films from the 80's that no one ever talks about.  I won't sit here and tell you that it's perfect, but I freakin' love it.  Cellar Dweller starts with a prologue that introduces us to Colin Childress (Jeffrey Combs, yo), a comic book artist toiling away at his latest creation.  Obviously, his latest creation is the Cellar Dweller, an abstruse beast with roots in the astrophysical (I think).  It seems that Colin's imagination has pulled his monster into reality.  Yeah, it's one of those stories.

Cut to thirty years later.  Whitney arrives at an isolated art institute run by the priggish, square-toed Mrs. Briggs (that would be Lily--I mean, De Carlo).  She learns that the basement is off-limits.  Apparently, it's where her hero - the shadowy Childress - butchered an innocent girl before turning the axe on himself.  At least that's the prevailing rumor, but Whitney doesn't believe a word of it.  Feel free to consult Wikipedia for a more detailed synopsis.  I don't want to reveal everything.  Actually, there isn't much more to reveal, as the film only stretches to 77 minutes, and that's if you count the credits.  Cellar Dweller does feel incomplete, but don't let that deter you from checking it out.  It's full of energy and, for lack of a better noun, color.  It wouldn't be inaccurate to say that it was shot to look like a comic book.  Aside from Creepshow, I can't name many other genre pearls that were so heavily influenced by EC comics (pre-1990, that is).  Creepshow 2 maybe?

Don't sleep on this beauty.  I'm proud to own it on both VHS and Blu-ray.  Come to mention it, I would put Cellar Dweller somewhere in my Top 20 movies of all time.  No, that's not a list I'm itching to make.

The Kane Multiverse

Gimmick infringement is nothing new in the wild world of independent wrestling, but a singular "development" has emerged in recent times.  If you fast-forward to 4:00 in the above video, you will see the entrance of CoKane.  Yes, that's Kane as a cocaine fiend, white gear and all.  He has wrestled for JCW, and legally, I don't know how that's possible.  I guess because it's slightly different, it gets a pass?  Something tells me that Glen Jacobs wouldn't approve.  But wait, there's more!

Meet Blue Kane!  He's just like Kane, only...blue!  I can't believe that he hasn't signed with AEW.  But wait, there's more!?

Meet Gayne!  Yes, it's the LGBTQ version of Kane.  But wait, there's...no, that's it.  Would a triple threat match mean the end of the Kane multiverse, or would it grow even stronger?

Blood Capsule #241

THE SHE-CREATURE (1956)

I have to be honest.  I wanted to like this movie more than I did.  It's in my wheelhouse.  There is nothing inherently wrong with it.  Let me do the synopsis thing, and then I'll try to make sense of it all.  An occult hypnotist has smoothed out the wrinkles of his road show.  He subverts the will of his lovely assistant through the power of suggestion, and presumably, her soul is transmigrated back in time.  She links up with her past life as a...um, a crawfish?  A brawny barnacle maybe?  I don't know what the hell it is, but it's beginning to vacate the ocean in search of...um, companionship?  Refreshments maybe?  I don't know what the hell it wants.  Huh, it just occurred to me that I don't know anything about The She-Creature.  The monster is cool, though!  There are shades of The Monster of Piedras Blancas, which is simply divine.  One day, I need to type up a definitive list of "fishman" flicks.

So where does this AIP picture go wrong?  It's hard to quantify.  There are far too many scenes of Dr. Lombardi (the aforementioned hypnotist) explaining the plot to cops and reporters alike.  On the upside, the cast is game.  Marla English is enticing as the diffident Andrea.  Apparently, Peter Lorre rejected the script outright.  But again, the film doesn't actually veer off course.  I just wanted more of the she-creature.  This is fine entertainment for a late autumn night.  Coincidentally, I watched it on Halloween, although I'm not sure when this review will be published.  Director Edward L. Cahn also gave us Invasion of the Saucer Men and The Four Skulls of Jonathan Drake among many, many others.  The She-Creature was remade in 1968 as Creature of Destruction.  Man, I'm dying to see that one.  No, I'm not being sarcastic.

Product Review: Raycon Earbuds

This was hastily thrown together, but I wanted to shout-out Raycon.  NOTE: This is not a paid advertisement.  But man, I've tried a million earbuds.  They all fall out of at least one of my ears at some point, and obviously, I can't physically hold them in place.  These babies, on the other hand, fit snug.  Now I can cruise around Wal-Mart while listening to black metal like God intended.  Yesterday, I jammed Samael's Blood Ritual while running errands.  So that's neat.

That's all I'm typing.  It is what it is.

Alien Autopsy: Fact or Fiction?

This isn't a "review" per se.  I just wanted to talk about this thing.  Y'know, people tend to romanticize the 80's for its innate wackiness.  And if you grew up during that decade, I get how that would be your truth.  But dude, the 90's.  You want wacky?  No one blinked when ostensibly real autopsy footage was aired on network television (in a primetime slot, no less).  Moreover, it pulled great ratings!  This would never fly in the modern zeitgeist.  UFO sightings make headlines once in a blood moon, but Alien Autopsy: Fact or Fiction? would never find an audience in 2024, assuming it was made at all.

Eventually released on home video by Vidmark Entertainment (as if it wasn't weird enough), Autopsy is a 45-minute pseudo-documentary with a smattering of bold claims up its sleeve.  In addition to eyewitness testimonies, it purports to show the autopsy of an extraterrestrial corpse administered in 1947.  A private investigator is hired to track down the cameraman, although I don't think I need to spoil that one for you.

I love how this special pats itself on the back.  I'm paraphrasing, but we are told by a panel of experts that "if the video is a hoax, it's incredibly well-done."  The audacity!  To be fair, it is incredibly well-done, so I can't say that anyone here is exaggerating.  Stan Winston shows up at one point.  He later claimed that his comments were taken out of context, that he very clearly stated his opinion that the video was, indeed, a hoax.

And yep, it was a hoax, but in 1995, viewers weren't entirely sure.  Some of the interviews are one hundred percent candid.  For example, Frankie Rowe comes across as genuine and somewhat damaged by her experiences.  It's patently obvious that she isn't acting, which only makes Autopsy more engrossing.  The stonefaced delivery of host Jonathan Frakes (he of Star Trek fame) plays a role in substantiating the eerie atmosphere.  I'm not saying that I believe every word that Autopsy launches our way; what I am saying is that it's a cool, creepy nostalgia trip.  I remember watching it as a kid in between episodes of The Simpsons and The X-Files.

I've said this before, but I'm borderline obsessed with mid-90's pop culture, especially 1995.  Alien Autopsy: Fact or Fiction? scratches that itch for me in a major way.  Even if you approach it as pure bubblegum entertainment, it's worth watching at least once.  Remember, we are not alone!

Blood Capsule #240

This review was requested via Patreon.  If you'd like to request a review (and please do show mercy on me), click HERE.

THE DRILLER KILLER (1979)

In theory, I liked this movie.  In execution, it was a polyp gestating on the lining of my colon.  I realize that there isn't much gray area between those two, um, circumstances, but The Driller Killer is a grindhouse feature that you will either love or hate.  It could loosely be called a character study.  The character it studies is an unhinged artist named Reno living in the slummy paunch of New York.  Played by then-fledgling director Abel Ferrara, Reno has a number of issues that vary in terms of human interest.  His girlfriend entertains the advances of an ex, his art dealer employer rebukes his work, and to top it all off, the punk band upstairs won't stop practicing.  A word on the punk band...they are called The Roosters, and they suck.  I suppose that you need an ear for crude, drugged out rock to appreciate them, but we have to sit through way, way too much of their music.

What about the drill-killing, you ask?  It takes awhile for Reno to brandish his weapon of choice.  Yes, there is plenty of blood, but aside from the last ten minutes, the deaths are passionately humdrum.  Hmm, Passionately Humdrum would make for a great band name.  It's better than The Roosters anyway.  Yeah, I didn't get much out of The Driller Killer.  It does have its fans.  I can see the appeal, especially if you pair it up with Frank Henenlotter's Basket Case for a sleazy double feature.  Again, in theory?  It's okay.  Honestly, I'd be in favor of a remake.  Recommended to fans of recreational rotary tools.

Mortis in WWE?

So check this out...I found Mortis dark matches from 2003.  What's more, he's purple!  How awesome is that???  I can't believe that Vinnie Mac never gave this gimmick a fair shot on the main roster.  You have to think that just a few years later, Mortis would have fit perfectly on WWE's ECW.  If you want a random "lol" moment, the first match in this video is against Austin Aries.

Blood Capsule #239

THE KINDRED (1987)

I wanted to end my mad "14 in 14" experiment on a high note, so it's a good thing that I took a chance on this sci-fi/horror sleeper.  Nutshell review?  Rad monster, no other notes needed.  At least that's what I would write on Letterboxd, provided I had the time and energy to maintain my Letterboxd account.  I want to make sure that I don't bury the lede.  This flick is a dream, and I'm genuinely surprised - no, mortified that it remains criminally underseen.  It didn't even debut on disc until three years ago.  Apparently, a swathe of legal red tape safeguarded its status as a VHS rarity for years.  Now that I think about it, I might own it on video, but I'd have to check my haunted closet to be sure.  None of that matters.  The Kindred is based on an original screenplay, though you would swear that it's an adaptation of an H.P. Lovecraft story.  After John's mother dies of a heart attack, he is tasked with canvassing his childhood home (not in the political sense).  You see, Mom was working on a paragraph break.  Hold that thought.

Anyway, it turns out that the matriarch of John's family, herself a scientist, was conducting genetic research of some kind.  It was her dying wish that her experiments be terminated.  Why?  What horrible secrets can be found in the Anthony journals?  And who the hell is Anthony???  My lips are sealed, but I will tell you that the answer involves a cluster bomb of slime, tentacles, and other sweet practical effects.  The climax is a trip, man.   According to the behind-the-scenes featurette on the Blu-ray, co-directors Jeffrey Obrow and Stephen Carpenter were able to play with a budget of $3 million.  It shows.  Moreover, we get to know three-dimensional characters as the horror unfolds.  I don't know who was responsible for the dialogue (there are five people credited as writers, and that includes Psycho scribe Joseph Stefano), but everyone sounds grounded. 

I can't heap enough praises on The Kindred.  It comes dangerously close to 5-Z'Dar territory.  Recommended to fans of awesome stuff.

Taken from the bonkers UK poster.