Now Playing #24

Deftones - Private Music

I talked about this album on the debut episode of Dom Reacts.  At the time, I wasn't really feeling it.  But!  Those were my first impressions.  I have since accumulated, like, a lot of impressions.  As such, I can safely render a more official verdict.  This is a cool record.  It's not one of my favorite Deftones releases, but let's be honest.  It was never going to topple White Pony or Around the Fur.  That would just be crazy talk.  However, these new jams have seeped into my pores like a warm rush of air pollution (???).  I dig the menacing basslines of "Ecdysis," the sheer riffage of "Cut Hands." and the catchy chorus vibes found on "Metal Dream."  Any duds?  "I Think About You All the Time," a chill cut in the middle of Private Music, hasn't quite won me over.  It wouldn't be fair to call it a true dud, though.  Overall, I'd say this is a stronger batch of songs than Ohms, which in retrospect, seems a little patchy.

Craft - Total Soul Rape

These guys are often compared to Darkthrone, but the more I listen to Craft, the less I hear Darkthrone.  For starters, Craft is Swedish.  And while the production could be considered rough around the edges, it's nowhere near the level of Transylvanian Hunger or Panzerfaust in terms of "rawness."  Simply put, this is quality black metal.  The drumming is more involved than one might expect.  No, it's not technical, but it's...well-played?  Total Soul Rape might be my preferred Craft album.  They're all worth checking out, though.  You've got to love the songtitles.  "Death to Planet Earth," "Ultimate Satan," and "Past, Present, Dead" are my personal favorites.  My actual favorite song is "World of Plague."  It slows down at juuuuust the right moment.  If it doesn't make you overtax your neck muscles, you don't have a pulse.  Or to steal a famous tagline, if it doesn't make your skin crawl, it's on too tight.  Listen to Craft and prepare to be skinned.

Blood Capsule #326

THE SLEEPING CAR (1990)

This movie is so obscure, I once rented it on VHS and it wouldn't play in my VCR.  Okay, it's not that obscure, but I doubt that many cinephiles know that David Naughton had a spell of "train horror."  The Sleeping Car is on par with Night Train to Terror.  I'd have to rewatch Terror Train to comment on its viability in this category.  Let's see...oh, Horror Express!  That has to be the top pick.  In any case, Naughton stars as a college student pursuing a degree in journalism.  He's strapped for cash, so he has to settle for a makeshift apartment that used to be the caboose of a train.  On second thought, it may not have been the caboose.  It matters none.  Eventually, Naughton - er, Jason - realizes that his locomotive domicile is haunted by the restless spirit of his landlady's dead bridegroom.  Because the genre was still spinning its wheels trying to parrot the success of a wisecracking Freddy Krueger, our villain has a silly name.  The Mister!  Unfortunately, he has absolutely no charisma.  Hence, no sequels.

The Mister's makeup is abundantly spooky, but he might be the least interesting aspect of The Sleeping Car.  Kevin McCarthy shows up as a nextdoor mystic who supplies some of the comedy relief.  Overall, the dialogue is obnoxiously clever.  Every line sounds as if it's being read from a script.  However, I dug Naughton.  And I really, really dug his girlfriend, the impossibly sexy Judie Aronson.  I recognized her from somewhere, but I was drawing a blank.  Turns out, she was one of the camp counselors in Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter.  Killer resume, no?  We do get a charitable dose of nudity, so yay.  The death sequences are peculiar.  Each victim dies from being perforated by the coil springs of a sofa.  Points for originality, I guess.  Honestly, this isn't a bad flick, but I can't say that I was particularly staggered by it.  It will do in a pinch.  My rating is a tad generous, as I have a thing for films that failed to become franchises.  In that respect, The Sleeping Car doesn't quite reach the level of Brainscan or Dr. Giggles.

My copy.

Ra$$lin'

Finally!  My main wrestling crush from back in the day is heading back to the squared circle.  As much as I love Iyo Sky and Stephanie Vaquer, A.J. Lee is the reason why I'm going to be paying way too much money to watch wrestling in the not-too-distant future.  Peacock?  Cancelled.  Netflix?  Eventually, cancelled.  I have to make room in my bank account somewhere.  Thankfully, AEW and New Japan have been aggressively meager lately.  I can't keep up with everything anyway.

Am I just getting too old for this nonsense???

Blood Capsule #325

WAR OF THE INSECTS (1968)

I'll level with you, dear reader.  My mind is occupied...elsewhere.  I'm not "with it."  I'll spare you the details, but suffice to say, real-world stress is trying to rain on my b-movie parade.  I only mention it because horror fiction is the ultimate outlet for escapism, whether in print or on celluloid.  Today's subject is no different.  In fact, you could say that it's rather kooky.  Produced by Shochiku (the oldest among Japan's major movie studios), War of the Insects - a.k.a. Genocide - is a psychedelic slice of bug-addled horror.  My copy is a bootleg, but it's worth mentioning that it was released by Criterion in a swanky set alongside 1968's The Living Skeleton, 1967's The X from Outer Space, and 1968's Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell.  Do me a favor.  Don't let me buy that thing.  As it stands, I have a surplus of Blu-rays and tapes to sift through.  Do me another favor.  Don't let me drift off-topic again.  Just smack me.

Right, so War of the Insects.  The plot is baffling.  Pests everywhere are sick of humans destroying the planet.  They won't stand for it, man.  Somehow, they all agree as a hive mind to flip out and overthrow us.  I'm not sure if that includes mites and gnats, but this act of sedition manifests itself as a swarm of locusts (I suppose they could have been wasps or rabid dragonflies) that takes down a plane carrying an H-bomb.  It's all very apocalyptic.  What's more, we meet a mad scientist.  In a nice change of pace, our unhinged entomologist is a buxom blonde.  She's concocting a poison that will equip bees with a hallucinogenic stinger.  Apparently, her motives are not related to the bug uprising.  A happy accident?  To be honest, it seems unnecessary.  It's as if screenwriter Susumu Takaku simply wanted to jam as much conflict into the script as possible.  On the upside, none of it is boring.

If you're looking for a breakdown of the film's social commentary, you're woofing up the wrong tree.  I do appreciate the downbeat ending.  Go ahead and give War of the Insects a whirl.  Recommended to fans of The H-Man and the letter "h" in general.

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