Blood Capsule #351

SHADOW ZONE: MY TEACHER ATE MY HOMEWORK (1997)

A year and a half ago, I reviewed Shadow Zone: The Undead Express.  Go ahead and read that.  I'll wait here.  Back?  Okay.  I finally chanced upon a beautiful VHS copy of My Teacher Ate My Homework, the second film based on Shadow Zone, a Goosebumps knock-off series that consisted of thirteen titles.  I don't know if there were more adaptations planned, but only two of these projects saw a green light.  In terms of budget, both picture shows are medium-sized enterprises.  The cast here is leavened with thespians your parents would recognize.  Shelley Duvall plays a wicked teacher named Mrs. Fink.  Jesse can't stand her.  To tell the truth, he's convinced that she goes out of her way to undermine him at every opportunity on top of loading him down with homework.  He seems to gain the upper hand, however, when he finds an eerie doll at a curiosity shop that could pass for Mrs. Fink's doppelganger.  After the doll's arm is "injured," ol' Fink attends class all disheveled with her arm in a sling.  Hmm...

I was expecting this to follow a generic "my teacher is a monster" blueprint (maybe something in line with Tobe Hooper's Invaders From Mars), but instead, I got an evil doll bent on "soul transference."  Yep, this flick borrows from Chucky's playbook.  I didn't see that coming.  Perhaps what's more surprising is the fact that I had a blast watching this thing.  It's super fun.  Compared to The Undead Express, the characters are a little easier to like, and I couldn't figure out where the story was going.  I'm shocked that I've never heard anyone make a passing reference to My Teacher Ate My Homework, not even when collating childhood favorites.  And I've seen people do some serious collating, let me tell you.  I would say it's on par with Goosebumps, but honestly, it's the better product between the two.  Alright, I'm hyping it up too much.  I forgot to mention The Reaper.  Hold on; this calls for a new paragraph.

Each Shadow Zone is hosted by The Reaper, a Cryptkeeper-esque ghoul who I'm now basing my entire life around.  This guy rules!  He's worth an extra half-Z'Dar, and we were already in 4-Z'Dar territory.  Recommended for fans of...Margot Kidder?  Yeah, she cameos as a librarian.  For reasons.

Retirement (Repost)

Okay, so I guess I'll go ahead and announce it.  Once I hit Blood Capsule #400, I'll have enough reviews for my second book.  At which point, two things will happen.  1!  I'll commence work on the book.  2!  I will retire as a horror journalist/movie critic.  In effect, I'll be retiring the site, although I'll leave it up for posterity.  This hasn't been an easy decision to reach, but guys, I've been writing about horror movies in some way since 2002.  That's A LOT of reviews.  I've only been doing it "professionally" for a little while, and that brings me to my next point.

My Patreon will remain active because once I'm done with the site, I'll be making YouTube my full-time gig.  You may have noticed my slow transformation into a YouTuber.  I'm not particularly good at it, but I can only get better.  I do plan on upgrading my camera set-up next year.  By my calculations, I won't hit Blood Capsule #400 for at least a few months.  Ideally, I'll have the second book out for the summer.  In the meantime?  Check out that Patreon.  I appreciate the support.  I have to say, I'm definitely ready to hang it up.  You can expect the remaining Capsule reviews to be exceedingly weird and obscure.  Gotta go out with a bang and all that.

I'll be posting this notice at least twice to make sure everyone sees it.  Thanks for reading!

Blood Capsule #350

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER (2025)

I have the World Series on in the background.  It's irrelevant, but I want you to know that I hate the Dodgers.  I tried to come up with a clever baseball metaphor for this movie.  Alas, I got nothing.  I guess I should start by talking about the original.  I dig it!  It's more of an "old school" slasher than the derivatives that followed in its wake.  To be frank, I despise I Still Know What You Did Last Summer, and I feel pretty comfortable saying that I'll never watch it again.  This re-quel...eh.  I admit, I was curious.  Would it simply rehash a proven formula?  Well, kinda.  A new group of almost-teens inadvertently causes a car to tumble down the side of a mountain.  One year later, the bubbly Danica receives a portentous note at her bridal shower.  It reads, "I can't believe how hot Jennifer Love Hewitt is at age 46.  Good for her."  Obviously, our characters are hooked and gutted by a maniac wearing a fisherman's rain slicker.  No spoilers, but there are plot twists galore.

Actually, I'll start there.  This movie has too many endings.  The script seems to be in love with itself.  I'm sure that writer/director Jennifer Kaytin Robinson had pure intentions, but the third act felt like an episode of Monday Night Raw.  That's not a compliment.  And yet, I enjoyed the vapid absurdity of it all.  I was in the mood for a stupid slasher, so I didn't actively hate this flick.  It was cute having Freddie Prinze Jr. and Sarah Michelle Gellar return to the...franchise?  Does this count as a franchise?  I don't see where they could go with another sequel.  None of the main characters are interesting enough to carry a follow-up, and try as they might, the hook-handed villain just hasn't connected as a horror icon.  I mean, have you ever seen little fishermen go trick-or-treating?  If you have, how do you know they weren't dressed as the Gorton's fisherman?  Got you there.

"Retirement" (The Major Announcement)

Okay, so I guess I'll go ahead and announce it.  Once I hit Blood Capsule #400, I'll have enough reviews for my second book.  At which point, two things will happen.  1!  I'll commence work on the book.  2!  I will retire as a horror journalist/movie critic.  In effect, I'll be retiring the site, although I'll leave it up for posterity.  This hasn't been an easy decision to reach, but guys, I've been writing about horror movies in some way since 2002.  That's A LOT of reviews.  I've only been doing it "professionally" for a little while, and that brings me to my next point.

My Patreon will remain active because once I'm done with the site, I'll be making YouTube my full-time gig.  You may have noticed my slow transformation into a YouTuber.  I'm not particularly good at it, but I can only get better.  I do plan on upgrading my camera set-up next year.  By my calculations, I won't hit Blood Capsule #400 for at least a few months.  Ideally, I'll have the second book out for the summer.  In the meantime?  Check out that Patreon.  I appreciate the support.  I have to say, I'm definitely ready to hang it up.  You can expect the remaining Capsule reviews to be exceedingly weird and obscure.  Gotta go out with a bang and all that.

Thanks for reading!

Blood Capsule #349

BLOOD TRACKS (1985)

So you think you've seen every heavy metal horror movie from the 80's, huh?  I thought I had as well, but then I discovered Blood Tracks.  This is a Swedish slasher that only made its debut on blu-ray last year.  The plot borrows tropes from 1984's Monster Dog and even Wes Craven's The Hills Have Eyes.  A rock group decides to invade a small town in the Rockies to shoot a music video at an abandoned factory.  Band members, along with a motley crew (ha!) of groupies and managers, are picked off one by one in increasingly brutal ways.  The villains are demystified early on, as we are shown a domestic dispute that ends with a (bleeding) woman leaving her home with her children in tow.  Cut to twenty years later.  The children are now bestial hermits who will kill anyone unlucky enough to...well, to shoot a music video at an abandoned factory.  The glam band is designated with the moniker of Solid Gold, although they are played by actual musicians who comprise a Swedish act named Easy Action.  According to IMDb, they later regretted simply not playing themselves.

Between you and me?  I don't think that should have been their chief regret.  The dudes in Easy Action are not actors, but by the same token, the other actors are probably not actors, at least in a professional sense.  You won't remember any of these characters.  Did I remember the faces in Black Roses or Rock 'n' Roll Nightmare?  No, but those flicks have a feral spirit, not to mention tawdry creature effects.  On the upside, the death sequences are often hilarious.  We see a person ripped apart by a booby trap, and I'm still not 100% sure what triggered the trap or how it even works.  This thing would confuse Jigsaw.  Now, Blood Tracks has a theme song of sorts.  However, it was never officially released, so you can't buy it or stream it anywhere.  I suppose you could binge Easy Action tunes if the mood struck you.  Is Blood Tracks worth recommending?  Not really.  Maybe if you're a heavy metal horror completionist.  As a slasher, it barely gets the job done.  I do appreciate the goofball gore.  Watch it if there is literally nothing else to watch.

Announcement postponed...

I realize that I'm supposed to be making a major announcement, but we have family in the hospital right now.  I won't have time to write anything for a few days.  Everything else should be on time and on-point, however.

See you in a few!

Blood Capsule #348

THE TOXIC AVENGER (2023)

I totally get why some people were looking forward to this film.  By the same token, I totally get why some people were dreading it.  Could a big-budget Toxie successfully emulate the D.I.Y. turbulence that fueled Lloyd Kaufman in 1984?  Having seen it, I think that director Macon Blair had his heart in the right place.  I'll even go one step further and say that casting Peter Dinklage was a stroke of brilliance.  Seeing a diminutive Toxie in all of his mop-wielding glory gave The Toxic Avenger a touch of...Charles Band-ism?  It's hard to quantify.  Whatever it was, it worked.  Here, everyone's favorite janitor is named Winston.  He wants to set a good example for his son, but before he gets a chance to do anything terribly noble, a pack of wild goons decides to jettison his 48-inch frame into a vat of neon chemicals.  I'll level with you.  I wanted to like this flick, but I'm not so sure that I did.  There are a couple of reasons for that, and this is where I'll point you in the direction of the second paragraph.

At several points during the 2025 (or 2023, depending on which website you're using as a reference guide) version of The Toxic Avenger, it strains to be vulgar.  It tries too hard to offend you.  The original was effortlessly blue.  It didn't try to be anything; it just was what it was.  As for the bloodshed, yes, the violence is over-the-top.  However, nothing is particularly shocking or rewind-worthy.  As silly as it sounds, I was expecting dead kids.  Where are all the dead kids???  What's more, the polished nature of Toxie '25 ends up working against the film, in my estimation.  It definitely doesn't feel trashy.  The acting is fine.  I dug Kevin Bacon as the villainous Bob Garbinger.  And again, Dinklage does a splendid job anchoring everything.  I'm going to have to go with 2.5 Z'Dars.  By all means, form your own opinion.  To tell you the truth, I've never been a huge Troma fan to begin with.  I do have a few sick Toxic Crusaders comic books in my collection, and no, you can't have them.

Listener DOMination

So Liquid Metal on Sirius XM has a show called Listener Domination where you can send in three "requests" that they might play.  I just sent my e-mail.  If chosen, I'll be asked to record an audio spot for my songs.  It's all incredibly dorky.  Why not, right?  If you're curious, my tunes are Death's "Zero Tolerance," Cannibal Corpse's "Festering in the Crypt," and Dissection's "God of Forbidden Light."

Blood Capsule #347

MY UNCLE THE ALIEN (1996)

1999's Bats is a decent time waster.  I was going to review it until a friend came over and we watched...this.  This flick defies description.  It's not a horror film, but I'm forgoing the necessary criteria for a review subject.  That sort of thing can be waived on the grounds that, well, it's my site.  So there.  You can tell that My Uncle the Alien was never meant to be reviewed.  It was never meant to be dissected or analyzed by mere mortals.  I think director Henri Charr (more on him in a minute) just figured that no one would ever see this uncanny schlock.  And he's right, but I saw it.  I saw what you did, Henri!  The storyline centers around the president's daughter.  It's all very Hallmark, although I can't find proof that Uncle/Alien was made for television.  Anyway, the First Brat has been friends with an extraterrestrial for awhile now.  We are told this right away in a prologue of sorts.  Zero exposition, zero explication, zero elucidation.  This kid hangs out with a visitor from the stars.  End of.  That's all we need to know, I suppose?

After we meet the principal players, little Kelly is kidnapped by a couple of dunderheads.  By the way, most of the adults here are dunderheads.  Kelly and her friends have no problem outsmarting the Secret Service.  So there's an alien, remember?  He resembles Bob Newhart.  You could easily put Bob Newhart in his place, sans make-up, and the film wouldn't be any different.  Does our alien save the day and stymie Kelly's captors?  Nope.  He literally sits and watches as they tie her to a post.  The moppet snatchers have enough time to take a breather and decide how much ransom money they should demand.  Bear in mind, we have seen the alien zap several people with a...um, zapper.  Maybe it can only be used intermittently.  Maybe it saps the alien's strength.  I'm trying to offer an explanation because My Uncle the Alien doesn't.  Spoiler alert!  Actually, I can't even remember how the plot resolves itself.  This may sound like a z-grade affair, but all nonsense considered, this is a cushy production.  At one point, the characters enter a wax museum and interact with loads of intellectual properties that couldn't have appeared in a legal capacity without some stroke behind the camera.

Before helming My Uncle the Alien, Henri Charr dabbled in smut.  My favorite title on his IMDb page would have to be 1995's Cellblock Sisters: Banished Behind Bars.  I ask you, when can we expect 4K restorations?

1K Subscriber Giveaway!!!!!!!

If you haven't noticed, I'm beginning to gain some traction on YouTube.  I've hit a thousand subscribers, so it's time for a giveaway...!  Enter.  Today.

Blood Capsule #346

FIRST MAN INTO SPACE (1959)

This film was produced by the same team that brought us 1958's Fiend Without a Face, a patently ridiculous (or brilliant) b-ticket about atomic flying brains with spinal column tails.  First Man into Space doesn't reach those heights of...um, brilliance, but it doesn't disappoint either.  Test pilot Lieut. Dan Prescott pushes the capabilities of the military's latest aeronautic gadget Y-13 to its limits.  He wants to be the first man into space, and dang it, he isn't going to let science stop him.  Unfortunately, his foolhardy ways lead him directly to hitting the eject button when his craft is stippled with atmospheric debris.  Upon falling back to Earth, Dan finds himself hideously deformed and craving human blood.  It's up to his older, wiser brother (the distinguished Chuck) to locate him and save him from himself.  We get a few stalk sequences out of the deal, although the violence is obviously suggested.  Can this creature be stopped before Y-14 is sent into the skies?  Probably.

I don't want to say that the bulk of First Man into Space is paint-by-numbers, but that's basically where we are here.  That's not necessarily a dealbreaker.  I know I was on board.  Things get a little more interesting toward the finale.  Dan becomes a tragic figure, as entering a high-altitude chamber (and yes, I had to do some digging to suss out the proper terminology) grants him the ability to communicate for the first time since his mutation.  I've got to be honest.  As a regular guy, he was a nettlesome twerp.  As a humanoid blanketed in space dust, he has pathos.  I actually felt bad for him.  I have to give the script credit for sidestepping an unseemly scene where Chuck professes his love for his brother's girlfriend.  I was ready to roll my eyes.  Thankfully, it never happened.  We're close to 4-Z'Dar terrain, but look, I can't lose my cool over every monster movie I run across.  Still, check this one out.

An announcement...announcement!

All I really want in life is Kelly Bundy.  Is that asking too much?  Sorry, I'm off-topic already.  Anyway!  Give me a week or so.  And then!  I'll make a major announcement.  Please note that this is not related to the giveaway I'll be announcing on YouTube in the coming days.  This is something else.  Something big.  Don't worry; you won't miss it.  It's that big.

Blood Capsule #345

CUJO (1983)

Would you believe I had never seen Cujo until last night?  Makes no sense, especially considering how I love dogs and Stephen King adaptations alike.  I haven't read the source material.  Of course, King doesn't remember writing it, so at least we're on level playing field.  He's on record as enjoying this flick, and I'd put it in the top five or so if we're ranking King adaptations from the 80's.  I was taken aback by its intensity.  The effects crew managed to turn a fluffy St. Bernard into a frothing, mud-soused monster.  That couldn't have been easy.  Fan favorite Dee Wallace Stone gives a tense performance as a conflicted mother who can't leave her car for the entire second half of the film.  The "plot," if you can call it that, totally worked for me.  I will say, I didn't care for the adultery subplot.  In the end, it didn't add anything beneficial to the narrative, unless you're really into uncomfortable sex scenes.  I don't mind a flawed protagonist, but it just came off as distasteful.

Danny Pintauro is believable as Dee's son.  I'm sure the characters have names, but I've gone this far without doing any research.  Normally, forgetting names would be a red flag.  However, Dee Wallace is always Dee Wallace to me.  She's too pure for this world, I tell you.  Director Lewis Teague keeps the pace cracking.  He also keeps the fog machine industry afloat.  I almost expected to see Christopher Lee emerge from the shadows, cape and all.  Speaking of Dracula, when are we getting Cujo vs. Zoltan?  And where is the fundraising campaign to stop Netflix from remaking Cujo?  There has to be an anti-kickstarter somewhere.  Anyway, good movie.  That's the review.

Ultra Q

A giveaway announcement...announcement!

Blood Capsule #344

SAWBONES (1995)

The first time I watched this film, I noted that all of the backdrops looked like the inside of my eyelids.  Then I realized I was unconscious.  Yes, I had to sit through Sawbones twice to review it.  It actually wasn't the movie's fault that I fell asleep, although our villain seemed to be snoozing through the death sequences.  I would accuse producer Roger Corman of ripping off Dr. Giggles, but why on Earth would he?  No one cared about Dr. Giggles, this in spite of my push to have Larry Drake's blood-stained smock from the cult slasher accepted into the Smithsonian.  Regardless, Sawbones is no Dr. Giggles.  It tells the tale of a medical student who doesn't react well to being rejected by the admissions department of a prestigious university.  Technically, he doesn't react at all.  Don Harvey's performance as the lunatic William Knapp (I couldn't dream of a more suitable appellation) can only be described as drowsy.  He has the appearance of Patrick Bateman, but he has the personality of Patrick Bateman's ideal business card, even down to the subtle off-white coloring.

Our main character is an aimless lass by the name of Jenny.  She doesn't have her ducks in a row, which I found refreshing.  Moreover, she's easy on the eyes.  Her boyfriend, another doctor, is just as dull as Dr. Not Giggles.  Oddly, the cast is fitted with Mad TV alumni Phil LaMarr (as a co-worker) and Michael McDonald (as a flamboyant metrosexual in handcuffs at a police station).  Aside from Jenny, everyone is either bored or boring.  The kills are nasty in theory, but we don't see much.  Come to think of it, I don't remember Sawbones having any special effects, unless you count a prop skeleton.  And yet somehow, the third act is entertaining.  There is a car chase, and Jenny plays a cat-and-mouse game of sorts with the screwball surgeon.  Eh, three Z'Dars should cover it.  Recommended to fans of waking up in the middle of surgery.

Iron Supplements #9

VERMINOUS KNIGHT

I'm a big fan of Lamp of Murmuur.  That's pertinent information because clicking around on Lamp's Metal Archives page is how I discovered Verminous Knight.  And thus, an Iron Supplement was born.  This project has released one full-length album.  No demos, no EPs, no rehearsal tapes (Satan forbid)...how could it be black metal???  But it is.  And it's rock solid black metal, if you ask me.  There is nothing transformative or trailblazing on Malignant Descent, but after giving it a thorough listen, I can tell that it's going to attach itself to my grey matter and demand repeat visits.  Musically, it's a little more traditional than Lamp.  By that I mean, it relies on dreary tremolo runs and oppressive keyboards.  Right now, my favorite song is "Honorless Hearts, Blood Predators."  Check it out, yo.

Aside from the drums, Verminous Knight is a one-man trip.  Of course, that man (Sanguinous Moth) is in, like, fourteen other bands.  Yeah, it's definitely black metal.

Blood Capsule #343

TROLL (1986)

So I watched Troll last night.  I wasn't going to review it, but I had an epiphany.  "Dom," I said.  "Why not review Troll?"  Okay, so it wasn't quite an epiphany.  When I was a kid, we rented Troll, but I only remember bits and pieces of it.  I recalled Phil Fondacaro emerging from a plant.  And that's about it.  I don't even know that I've seen Troll 2 as an adult, which worries me.  Is there a support hotline for people who haven't seen Troll 2?  All I know is that I had a blast with Troll.  If Claudio Fragasso's embattled sequel is the "worst movie ever," this has to be considered the best.  Doesn't it?  Am I alone on this island?  Let's try to piece a synopsis together.  You've got a family who has just moved into an apartment building.  The dad is Michael Moriarty.  Sidenote...he is friggin' incredible.  His performance here - coupled with his life-affirming turn in It's Alive III: Island of the Alive - has to put him in the running as one of the greatest actors of his generation.  Doesn't it??

Anyway, a random troll appears in the basement.  Magic is afoot, as the insatiable Torok tries to convert each apartment into a frightful Ferngully.  The only person who can stop him is a former princess who conveniently lives in the same complex.  By the way, the role(s) of Eunice is so perfectly casted, I thought we were seeing one actress in aged make-up.  But no, it's the mother-daughter team of June and Anne Lockhart.  Again, they are perfect.  Also perfect?  Phil Fondacaro as the scene-stealing Malcolm.  I thought it was interesting that Torok wanted to help him.  You would expect the main villain to be 100% evil, what with this being a fantasy.  Instead, Troll paints in shades.  Shades of what, I don't know.  The creature effects are fantastic, and I wish that every movie was directed by John Carl Beuchler.  His resume is spotless, if you ask me.  I think I'll watch Troll 2 tonight.  At the very least, I hope it ruins my day.

Random Match Alert

Look, it's Max Moon!  Don't ask questions.  It's Max Moon (versus Rick Martel).

Blood Capsule #342

R.L. STINE'S PUMPKINHEAD (2025)

I'm writing this on the 22nd of October, but if all goes according to plan, this review should publish on Halloween.  So first of all, Happy Halloween!  I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate than to take a look at the latest R.L. Stine creation.  Oddly, he doesn't seem to have written this one.  It's not based on one of his stories, although it's informed by his childhood experiences.  Somehow.  The story of Pumpkinhead was actually "adapted" for an episode of The Haunting Hour, his anthology series that aired on Discovery Family in the 2010's.  Some details were changed for this feature, but apparently, it was always called Pumpkinhead.  And that's just not right.  Couldn't they come up with a title that wasn't already associated with a well-known intellectual property?  I'm digressing.  This flick is a Tubi original, and tonally, it will remind you of Goosebumps and Are You Afraid of the Dark?.  Having said that, it doesn't pull any gut punches.  Yes, death is involved.

13-year-old Sam moves to a quaint municipality that is headlong into a harvest festival.  Well, Sam decides to be a prick and steal a pumpkin from the man responsible for saving the town of Redhaven from destitution.  It soon becomes obvious that there is something off about this pumpkin.  Without spoiling too much, I'll tell you that we get to see an evil scarecrow, which sadly, makes Pumpkinhead the best "killer scarecrow" movie since 1995's Night of the Scarecrow.  This is a fun spookshow that will entertain kids and adults alike.  There are two major hindrances that hold this hayride back from glory.  The main character is aggressively unlikeable to the point that you begin relating to the supposed antagonists.  Also, we are asked to suspend disbelief to an improbable degree.  I try not to get too fussy when it comes to plot holes, but wow.  If you've seen Pumpkinhead, I'm referring to the trick-or-treating scene where the sheriff is hoodwinked into believing that his daughter has stayed in to hand out candy.  Again, wow.  Why didn't they simply leave instead of switching costumes with a couple of strangers???

Anyway, I dug the autumnal atmosphere.  Lots of orange.  R.L. Stine's Pumpkinhead should be approached with low expectations, but I was able to chill out and have moderate fun with it.  You better believe that I'm deducting a half-Z'Dar for that title, though.

Why does 20 Buck Spin have a negative connotation?

Check out my latest YouTube video!  Expect a new Iron Supplement early next week and...maybe other stuff!?

Blood Capsule #341 (Special Edition)

What's a Special Edition?  It's a 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).

ANACONDA (1997)

My timing is impeccable.  Just a few days ago, the trailer for the Anaconda reboot dropped (I'm writing this in September).  My only question is, why?  Why is it a comedy starring Jack Black?  Whose idea was this?  My head is swimming with questions.  Now, will I see the new Anaconda?  Um, that's none of your business.  I can say that the original holds up seventy-three years later.  Of course, I rented it when it hit home video, and for some reason, we watched it in high school.  I mean, we watched it in class.  It must have been a slow day.  Anyway, I'm not going to tell you anything that you don't already know.  This movie rules.  Jennifer Lopez and Ice Cube are hellbent on shooting a documentary on lost tribes of the Amazon.  Instead, they wind up shooting a "found footage" slasher where Jon Voight - playing himself - stalks and murders a family of green anacondas.  It's horrifying.  Sorry, that's the only synopsis you're getting out of me.

Catching Anaconda in 2025, I was struck by the plurality of animatronic effects.  Yes, the CGI is there (and despite being in its infancy, it's far better than expected), but the actors are working with convincing models of varying sizes.  I've always had trouble convincing models of varying sizes...I shouldn't finish that sentence.  All of the violence is stomach-churning, a PG-13 rating be damned.  Personally, I was bothered more by the makeshift tracheotomy on Eric Stoltz than I was any of the snake deaths.  Eric Stoltz on his own is enough to send me scurrying to the bathroom.  Pacing-wise, this flick is fleet-footed.  I don't really know how it spawned sequels (or a reboot, for that matter), but it's pretty much perfect as a cheese-flavored popcorn ball.  Okay, I do know how it spawned sequels.  I forgot that it fared well at the box office.  Even if you don't consider yourself to be a fan, you have to concede that Anaconda is superior to Boa, Python, and Boa vs. Python.

What's that?  A second Random Reptile Month on the horizon?  Not.  A.  Chance.  I'm more likely to dive into Random Jon Voight Month.  Actually, I'm more likely to dive into Jon Voight.

Now Playing #25

Dissection - Reinkaos

I'm a late bloomer when it comes to Dissection.  I've apprised myself of the classics.  Yes, there is something special about The Somberlain and Storm of the Light's Bane, but if I'm being perfectly honest, I...almost prefer Reinkaos?  Don't lynch me.  Okay, lynch me.  I've tried to "get into" the first two albums because as a metalhead, that's what I'm supposed to do.  But yeah, no.  I put off listening to Reinkoas, perhaps in response to its reputation as a subordinate clunker.  I genuinely don't get it.  Why is it scorned so?  The riffs are less melodic, but the leads are still silky smooth.  I dig the solos on "Black Dragon" and "God of Forbidden Light."  The title track, a layered instrumental, might contain my favorite bits of guitar lickery here.  "Dark Mother Divine" is epic, even if it's mostly mid-paced.  I have to say, if we had gotten a fourth Dissection long player, I wouldn't have been opposed to more material in this vein.  Oh well.

Hey, why do Satanists love dragons so much anyway?  Inquiring minds want to know.

Hooded Menace - Lachrymose Monuments of Obscuration

In the lead-up to this album's release, I went back and devoured the entire Hooded Menace discography.  Geez, what a band.  As much as I'm enjoying Lachrymose, I'm going to start with some constructive criticism.  The guitar tone.  Dude, Fulfill the Curse and Never Cross the Dead are bone-crushing.  This record (and 2021's The Tritonus Bell) sounds homogenized.  The riffs themselves are fine, but they come off as sterile.  Maybe it's the shift in songwriting.  Musically, I hear just as much traditional metal as I do doomy death metal.  Exhibit A: The closing riff of "Pain Masquerade."  That's very nearly Skid Row.  Now, I love Skid Row, so that's not a gargantuan obstacle.  Whatever.  On the whole, Hooded Menace has retained their Hooded Menace-ness.  "Lugubrious Dance" is my favorite cut of blind dead meat.  I'm all about the fiendish leads.  The leads, man!

These tunes may not be stupidly heavy, but they're worth playing in your cemetery of choice.  Year-end list?  It's very possible.  Oh, the Duran Duran cover.  I usually skip it.  It is what it is.

Blood Capsule #340

CRAWL (2019)

Crawl is twelve minutes shorter than Rogue.  So I'm tackling Crawl.  Normally, I wouldn't let you in on my selection process, but you should know that I'm just as brainless as the movies that I review.  Perhaps that's unfair.  This flick does have a brain.  It has the heart, however, of a French "survival horror" endurance test from about fifteen years earlier.  It was directed by Alexandre Aja, and it feels more like his High Tension than Alligator.  But is that a good thing or a bad thing?  From where I'm sitting, it's merely a thing.  It does hit strange to watch a gritty, ultra-realistic take on the "nature runs amok" subgenre.  To that end, I was reminded of 1977's Day of the Animals.  Again, that's neither good nor bad.  Crawl tells the simple story of a woman checking on her father during a hurricane.  Tempestuous flooding forces them into the crawlspace where they butt heads with a deadly mongoose.  Kidding!  There are gators afoot and afloat.  What happens when the levee breaks?  If only it was just a Led Zeppelin song.

Crawl's sizeable budget allows for polished special effects that extend to cool, atmospheric shots of inclement weather.  Sometimes, stormclouds are creepier than monsters.  The characters are sympathetic, but bits of exposition that develop their backstories come across as forced.  I get it, though.  There are only so many ways to establish that two people have a fractured relationship.  Thankfully, the acting from Kaya Scodelario and Barry Pepper is on-point.  Props to the stunt crew.  This couldn't have been an easy film to shoot.  It makes me wonder what other reptile romps would have been able to accomplish with the same amount of money.  In any event, Crawl is a suspenseful, well-structured sit at the cinema.  If I'm being honest, I prefer Alligator and Lake Placid.  There is something to be said for cult appeal.  Recommended for fans of Doppler radars.

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Blood Capsule #339

THE ALLIGATOR PEOPLE (1959)

I didn't recognize her, but Beverly Garland also starred in 1957's Not of This Earth.  Man, she is the cat's pajamas.  Sorry, I think I started in the middle of this review.  Let me back up a bit.  The Alligator People is a hard film to describe.  The story is relayed via narration.  An amnesiac nurse (that would be Garland as Jane) is sent on a sodium pentothal trip to recover repressed memories.  Her psychiatrists decide later that these memories are better left repressed.  What does she divulge while under psychoactive hypnosis?  I don't want to reveal too much.  This flick functions as a mystery, and part of the fun is stumbling upon plot twists along with the main characters.  I guess I can tell you that alligators are involved.  That much is obvious.  The less obvious stuff has to do with a secluded plantation, a radioactive cobalt ray, and gratuitous limb regeneration.  Oh, and Lon Chaney Jr. as a hook-handed drunkard who hates alligators as much as I hate paragraph breaks.

I need to rave more about Beverly Garland.  She anchors The Alligator People.  That's not to say that the other cast members aren't up to snuff.  They are, especially Chaney.  It's strange to fathom that he was only a handful of roles away from his last, as he's certainly spirited here.  Pun intended?  You be the judge.  I highly recommend this one, mainly because there is a payoff.  You want to see a gator dude run around the wetlands of Louisiana, and that's precisely what the film offers.  Are the make-up effects silly?  Yes.  And they are magnificent.  Ironically, I was reminded of The Fly.  Fox distributed The Alligator People on a double bill with Return of the Fly.  Who do we have to petition to bring back double bills, preferably at drive-in theaters?  No, Barbie and Oppenheimer don't count.

Rassle Inn #56

A scene from AEW's WrestleDream.

Every time I order an AEW pay-per-view, I question my existence on this blue marble of ours.  The fact is, I crave mindless entertainment.  And last night, it didn't get any more mindless than WrestleDream.  First off, I'll say that it was a fairly typical AEW PPV in that there were too many matches.  Of course, most of the matches were too long.  Are we actually supposed to react when there are ten false finishes in every single contest?  You could even argue that the wrong person won half of the time.  Case in point, why isn't Toni Storm the (only) women's champion?  She's the most over talent you have, bar none.  I guess the women's titles are going to be unified now?  I have so many questions and not enough answers.

Then you have the main event.  What the hell are they doing with Darby Allin!?  This isn't professional wrestling anymore, not when the scrappy underdog is effing waterboarded in the middle of the ring.  Eventually, Darby is going to be gangraped on live television.  Actually, he'll probably die before that could ever happen.  The bumps he took - before nearly drowning - were so violent and so unnecessary, Tony Khan should be arrested for aggravated assault by proxy.  What does this do for the Death Riders?  "Boy, those are some tough fellows."  Give me a break.  The fans in attendance were cool with the ridiculous nature of it all, but they have already bought their ticket, both literally and figuratively.

What do I mean?  I mean that PPV's like WrestleDream do nothing, absolutely nothing, to rope prospective viewers into watching AEW, much less pro-wrestling as a whole.  Tony Khan currently has a built-in audience that will never see an increase in number as long as he's the guy in charge.  For the love of God, give the book to someone else.  It doesn't matter what the "sickos" want.  The ratings are dropping.  If Darby Allin has a death wish, so does AEW.  Yes, I'm about doom and gloom today.  Sorry.  I'm not exactly happy with WWE right now either, so don't think I'm picking on AEW.  Where did A.J. Lee go anyway?  She'll make everything better.  She always makes everything better.

Blood Capsule #338

STANLEY (1972)

My favorite bit of IMDb trivia regarding Stanley?  And I quote - "Screenwriter Gary Crutcher wrote the film's script in only three days while high on amphetamines."  I think that says it all, folks.  What am I doing with my life?  Alright, I'll curb the melodrama.  Stanley certainly plays it cool.  Twice in the first thirty minutes, we watch our main character fall asleep.  Our main character is not Stanley, by the way.  No, we follow a Native American Vietnam vet named Tim(my).  You could call him a serpent empath of sorts.  He loves...loves his rattlesnakes.  He finds humans to be pathetic wastes of flesh, so I guess we do have one thing in common.  Anyway, Tim wants revenge on the poachers who "accidentally" killed his father.  That's where his slithering friends come into play.  If the premise sounds familiar, director William Grefe is pretty open about the fact that he was directly influenced by Willard.  Just replace rats with snakes, add Floridian swamp water (Stanley was shot in the Everglades), and voila!

Grefe also helmed Sting of Death, which I covered late last year.  Scientifically speaking, it was fun on a bun.  Stanley doesn't have that same blithe spirit.  Part of the problem is ol' Tim.  He's so miserable, it's hard not for the viewer to share in his misery.  The laggard pacing further weighs heavy on the body of the film.  Oh, and it runs for 108 minutes.  Why 2.5 Z'Dars?  The acting is actually decent.  It would have been easier to invest in the story if it didn't ask us to identify with a guy who beds a 17-year-old (after killing her father, no less).  If Stanley were resculpted for modern audiences, it would stand a chance of being an intriguing character study.  There's a prizewinner in here somewhere.  Alas, it's obscured by crawling mounds of future wallets.

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Blood Capsule #337

LAKE PLACID 3 (2010)

I'm feeling trapped by this particular theme month.  It's like wanting to play outside with your friends when you're stuck inside because of a downpour.  As much as I would enjoy writing about aliens or...well, anything else, I'm stuck with reptiles for the time being.  More precisely, I'm stuck with gators.  Crocodiles?  I don't actually know which creature populates Lake Placid 3.  All I know is that I haven't seen Lake Placid 2.  I hadn't even spent time with the original until earlier this year.  It was a pleasant surprise.  Why did I skip a sequel?  Look, you should be used to my questionable tastes by now.  Do I know why I popped in Lake Placid 3 yesterday afternoon?  No, not entirely.  It worked out in the end, as this flick achieves quite a bit with very little ammunition (read: funding) in its firing chamber.  Let me get the negative stuff out of the way first.  The CGI is dreadful.  I think I saw digital waves at one point.  Egads.  And yet, the film manages to maneuver around these obstacles to deliver high-energy action sequences in the third act.

Plot, plot, plot...a little boy has been feeding meat to a pod of small-ish alligators behind his parents' back.  His excuse?  Boredom.  Personally, I've never been restless enough to risk losing a limb, but whatever.  He gets plenty of attention when a big-ish alligator shows up at his family's cabin.  There are also subplots concerning a hunting party.  They are not terribly interesting, but screenwriter David Reed does a tidy job of tying all of the characters together.  The kid I mentioned may have been bored, but I wasn't.  Lake Placid 3 premiered on the Syfy Channel, but it's worth noting that several boobs were added for the DVD release.  Apparently, the nudity was expurgated on Amazon Prime.  Okay, it wasn't worth noting.  My bad.  I had fun with this random sequel, although I doubt that I'll be trying out Lake Placid: The Final Chapter anytime soon.  The same goes for Lake Placid vs. Anaconda and Lake Placid: Legacy.  As if!

Dom's Nightmares

Because of the nature of this website, you can't tell that I've totally been slacking off the last few days.  Well, I'm about to get my rear into gear.  Over the next couple of weeks, you'll be seeing new editions of Now Playing and Iron Supplements.  To be honest, I haven't even watched many movies as of late.  I have watched episodes of Freddy's Nightmares, which is apparently on Tubi now??  Those folks must have the best legal team on the planet to be able to offer the stuff that they offer.  I'm not 100% sure who owns Freddy's Nightmares, although you would think that it falls under the New Line umbrella.  Who knows?  I had seen the pilot - "No More Mr. Nice Guy" - yeeeears ago, but it was a treat to revisit it.  There are scenes that function as a straightforward slasher where Freddy (in human form) creeps around the neighborhood and kills police offers Michael Myers-style.  Incredible.

I also enjoyed "It's a Miserable Life," an episode that happens to star Lar Park Lincoln as a requisite girlfriend.  Curiously, most of Freddy's Nightmares seems to work off of a blueprint, that being "bad things happen to a teenager."  Hey, it works.  Usually, when I try to binge a TV series, I lose interest after a few episodes and move onto something else, but I'm committed to watching all of this one.  Ask me how I fared come Thanksgiving.  Or better yet, don't.

Blood Capsule #336

RATTLERS (1976)

Muscle relaxers.  They give, and in the case of today's subject, they take away.  Man, about an hour into Rattlers, my eyelids were beginning to drag on the floor.  I managed to pull myself together, though.  I came close to hitting eject.  By that I mean, I came close to hurtling myself through the ceiling, as I watched this film on Tubi.  Rattlers feels like a made-for-TV cheapie.  But it's not that inviting.  I should have known better.  Any horror freak worth their Himalayan pink salt could tell you that snake movies are only rewarding propositions if the snakes involved are either giant or mutated in some way.  Or preferably, both!  Rattlers concerns...rattlers.  Technically, their genes have been modified by nerve gas, but big deal.  That just makes them aggressive.  And if I've said it once, I've said it a million times; an aggressive snake is not as interesting as a 50-foot snake.  Wait, have I ever said that?  I'm probably lying.  Let me start another paragraph before I divulge another untruth.

Our main character, a herpetologist (of course), is played by some guy named Sam Chew Jr.  How he wasn't a bubblegum mascot is anyone's best guess.  As an actor, he seems to be on the ball, but I don't think anyone told him that he was in a fright flick.  His blood pressure couldn't have eclipsed triple digits.  I know mine was low, but I wasn't dealing with live snakes.  Rattlers is humdrum through and through.  The script is floating with small talk, and I do mean floating.  There is no memorable score to punch up the scares.  Any screams you hear on the soundtrack merely break up perpetual lulls of silence.  If I wasn't an obsessive-compulsive when it came to logging my cinematic conquests, I seriously doubt that Rattlers would have made the cut for Random Reptile Month.  Hey, someone has to raise the red flag over this fiasco.

Sam Chew Jr.  No way that's his real name.

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Blood Capsule #335

KING COBRA (1999)

If I could give this film a standing ovation, I would.  It's not overly impressive as a "giant snake" vehicle, but it has three magic words on its side - the Chiodo brothers.  They handled F/X duties in a stunning show of anti-CGI sentiment that took me by surprise.  The technology was there.  Anaconda (don't worry, we'll get there soon enough) used CGI two years earlier, and it looked slick, but of course, that particular serpent was backed by a significant studio.  While King Cobra was released by Lion's Gate, I can't confirm whether the funding came from big wigs or regular-sized wigs.  Either way, there is no digital duplicity on display.  The title monster, a cross between a king cobra (Ophidiophagus hannah) and an eastern diamondback rattler (Crotalus adamanteus), is one hell of a creation.  The thing has palpable personality, more so than our human leads.  The acting isn't bad per se; it's just that the characters are offensively uninteresting.  I did like Erik Estrada as a gay-for-some-reason event planner.  Yeah.

It goes without saying that the plot insists on throwing a major shindig in a small town.  This time, it's a beer festival, and I have no idea why.  I guess they're opening a brewery or something.  Pat Morita stars as the herpetologist who knows everything.  For what it's worth, I enjoyed watching him condescend to government officials.  King Cobra starts and ends strong.  The second act...that's where I had problems staying awake.  If I wasn't so won over by the Chiodos' handiwork, it would be hard to recommend this flick.  Still, we're in solid 3-Z'Dar territory.  The directing team of David and Scott Hillenbrand also shepherded Survival Island, which I believe is about an evil piñata.  Now that's a resume.

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Blood Capsule #334

GAMERA THE BRAVE (2005)

One look at my rating, and I know you'll think I'm crazy.  Apparently, the powers that be completely disagree with me, as this film effectively ended the Gamera franchise as we know it.  This is the best Gamera jaunt I've ever seen, and folks, I will die on that hill.  I think it's fair to say that most genre fans are familiar with our turtle warrior's Showa series, the string of cheese-grade kaiju epics that ran from the mid-60's to the early 80's.  They would usually depict a universe where austere government officials would be led around by cloying groups of children.  They were absurd.  Plain and simple.  Gamera the Brave answers the question, "What if those goofball movies were made by actual filmmakers?"  I won't denigrate the Showa era (I own half of them), but this Gamera should be seen as the Gamera.  Yes, I dig the 90's trilogy.  There is plenty of room for high-quality Gamera-based entertainment, and that includes bottles of Mtn Dew Code Red.

The plot is basic.  A little boy named Toru stumbles upon Gamera's egg and raises it like you would any pet.  Eventually, this cute leatherback levitates and triples in size.  It soon becomes obvious that Toru is dealing with the same kind of Gamera that saved Tokyo from Gyaos (kaiju Pterodactyls, essentially) in 1973.  And wouldn't you know it?  A new monster has risen from the ocean depths, and it's up to Gamera to save Tokyo from certain doom.  Again.  Maybe I'm getting soft with age, but lead actor Ryo Tomioka has expressive eyes that will pierce your soul.  You might even feel...emotions?  In all seriousness, the child actors are splendid.  They come across as real kids, ordinary individuals in extraordinary situations.  The script has more heart than all of the Showa films combined.  I was totally sold on the human drama, which is why I'm trying so hard to sell Gamera the Brave to you.  What's more, the special effects are just right.  Are they worthy of five Z'Dars?  I think so.

It's a shame that this flick was a box office failure in Japan.  I would line up next to myself to see a sequel with the same creative nucleus.  Why do I have a feeling that Random Reptile Month is peaking early?