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.

Bluetooth Grin?

What's this?  Another new column???  Check it out!

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.

DOM REACTS To R.L. Stine's Pumpkinhead!

Check this out!

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?

Iron Supplements #8

MOTHER AUGUSTA

Mother Augusta is an Italian black metal band.  They're one of the more pleasant surprises I've come across thanks to this column.  However, their appeal is, shall we say, limited.  Allow me to explain.  I'm currently listening to Low Lights, the band's most recent full-length album.  Certain tracks could pass for 90's-style alternative rock...with black metal retches anyway.  The bulk of the record is mid-paced.  That's alright with me.  I realize that most metalheads would disagree, but I don't need a tune like "Pills" to launch into blast mode to keep my ears mollified.  If there were any doubts as to Mother Augusta's intentions, the "Similar Artists" tab on their Metal Archives page is littered with depressive black metal acts.  That's probably going to circumscribe their listener base or at least put a check on it.  It shouldn't, but you know it will.  And it's a shame because if you ask me, Mother Augusta delivers.

To date, these gentlemen have released an EP and two studio albums.  I hear a little bit of Forgotten Tomb, which can only be a good thing.  Highly recommended.

Blood Capsule #333

OCTOPUS (2000)

It's probably not a good sign that when someone was ensnared by a tentacle at a little past the hour mark in Octopus, I literally uttered aloud, "Oh, right.  This is a killer octopus movie."  I would be exaggerating if I said that I had completely forgotten, but that wouldn't be too far from the truth either.  This flick has more in common with The Hunt for Red October than it does It Came From Beneath the Sea.  Yes, it's a submarine thriller.  To boot, it's a submarine thriller that premiered on the USA Network.  I'm going to go out on a severed limb and proclaim that Red October might be the better film.  Of course, I'd rather watch Octopus anyway, but that's my problem.  A terse prologue tells us that the Cuban Missile Crisis resulted in barrels of radioactive waste being jettisoned to the ocean floor.  Cut to thirty years later.  A Bulgarian terrorist bombs the embassy, killing children and CIA agents alike.  And then a giant octopus...nope, not yet.  It's decided that the terrorist will be transported back to America in a submarine.  And then a giant octopus shows up?  Yeah.

First off, props to Octopus for dispatching a little girl in the opening scene.  Secondly, this isn't a bad submarine thriller.  NOTE: I don't watch stuff like Red October or Grey Lady Down, so this could be a terrible excuse for a submarine thriller.  Just saying.  All I know is that I didn't fall asleep in between bursts of cephalopod-coated carnage.  And for your information, we're dealing with a mutant octopus.  It's positively ginormous, and the best action scenes reminded me of Deep Rising.  Conversely, the special effects are mostly digital.  In other words, the special effects are mostly cack.  Excrement.  Codswallop.  I think I've made my point.  The only actor I remember is Carolyn Lowery.  She serves as the PG-13 T&A, and for some reason, the script pushes sexual tension.  It doesn't work.  At all.  Apparently, Lowery had a small role in Candyman, but I'll have to take IMDb's word for it.  She's in one scene, tops.  Director John Eyres is also responsible for 1993's Monolith, a sci-fi nugget that I reviewed forty-eight years ago.

I'll go to bat for myself and say my rating is fair.  There is a sequel.  Don't tempt me.

Blind Zombies and You

Just so you know, I'm going to be writing Blood Stains (mini-capsules) of the Blind Dead films over the next week or so.  You can read them over on the ol' Patreon along with almost sixty (!) other Blood Stains.  Plus, you get early access to reviews AND the knowledge that you're helping me out.  Support your boy!*

*That's me.  I'm your boy.

Blood Capsule #332

TERROR IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE (1958)

Never underestimate the power of hucksterism.  William Castle famously used gimmicks to sell his fright features, whether he was peddling ghosts (House on Haunted Hill was shot in "Percepto") or old-fashioned monsters (The Tingler was shot in "Illusion-O").  Well, he wasn't the only one.  Terror in the Haunted House - a.k.a. My World Dies Screaming - was supposedly filmed in Psychorama.  What is Psychorama?  I'm glad you asked.  It involves subliminal images that are spliced into the celluloid.  A similar effect is used in The Exorcist, although I don't think that Captain Howdy has ever been associated with Psychorama.  Only two films have ever been hawked with this particular ad campaign, the other being a melodrama called A Date with Death.  But that's enough about marketing.  The single-frame Psychorama flimflam is fun, but can this movie stand on its own two feet?  Actually, yes, I believe it can.  Let's do the plot summary thing.

Sheila keeps having the same nightmare, which may be a repressed memory.  She is afraid to enter her new house, as it looks just like the house in her dreams.  Why does her husband insist on pushing her into the creepy abode?  And what's hanging in the attic?  I hate to deflate a balloon (of terror), but there is nothing supernatural happening here.  There IS a nasty family secret, so at least we're spared the anticlimax of a Scooby-Doo villain.  The conflict is certainly real.  Cathy O'Donnell is dialed in as the wide-eyed Sheila.  She's quite intelligent for a final girl of the 1950's.  Gerald Mohr is convincingly smug as the gaslighting Philip.  I wanted to punch him.  While the lack of any cosmic horror is disappointing, I still enjoyed this flick on a gut level.  It gave me simple black-and-white scares, and sometimes, that's all you need.  By the way, this capsule was written in Thrill-O.  I'm working on the patent.

It!

I forgot to mention it in the video, but send me something to react to!

Blood Capsule #331

THE DEAD HATE THE LIVING (2000)

By hazy memory recall, I think I read about this flick in Fangoria before eventually renting it at Blockbuster.  I wasn't bowled over by it, so I approached this rewatch with some trepidation.  I had forgotten that it was a Full Moon production.  Thankfully, it has a little more oomph to it than, say, Ragdoll.  The premise centers around a low-budget horror movie being shot at an abandoned hospital.  The crew gets decorous mileage out of the spooky set.  The question is, do I credit The Dead Hate the Living for having hair-raising Spirit Halloween visuals or do I credit the movie in The Dead Hate the Living?  Either way, everything looks scrumptious.  Back to the plot...our raggle-taggle band of budding auteurs unwittingly open a portal to another dimension.  Of sorts.  All you need to know is that the characters contend with zombies.  Said zombies are lead by the ghoulish Mr. Eibon, a bargain basement Rob Zombie that might have been a mad scientist in a former life.

I realize that my synopsis sounds like guesswork, but The Dead Hate the Living is "style over substance."  To be exact, it's all style, no substance.  That isn't necessarily a deal-breaker.  I love the neon lighting, in part, because it's excessive.  The script?  I love a little less.  It takes an interminable 50 minutes to get to the main event monsters.  I will say, I really dug the late Matthew McGrory (a.k.a. Tiny in House of 1,000 Corpses and The Devil's Rejects) as Gaunt, even if I didn't learn his name until the end credits.  I remember reading interviews with him, and he seemed like a cool dude.  Well, I'm sad now.  Great.  I'll wrap it up by recommending The Dead Hate the Living if you don't mind lower-tier Full Moon.  Also, it reminded me of 1997's The Convent, which is better by leaps and bounds.  So take that however you want.

Iron Supplements #7

XEPER

Today's band seems to have international roots.  They hail from Italy, but one of the members (guitarist Guh.lu) was a touring member of Gorgoroth.  Yeah, I don't know how those wires were crossed.  Musically, Xeper seems to take inspiration from the Norwegian strain of black metal.  I'm currently blasting 2021's Ad Numen Satanae, and I'm definitely hearing shades of late-era Mayhem.  You could tell me that these were leftovers from the Daemon sessions, and I wouldn't have any reason to doubt you.  On the whole, however, this is top-shelf stuff.  Xeper plays with tempo variation.  I'm digging the faster sections, in particular.  Lyrical themes?  "Anti-Cosmic Satanism."  I ask you, what is the difference between cosmic horror and anti-cosmic horror?  Only black metal musicians can answer that question, I suppose.

To date, Xeper has released four full-length albums, two demos, and a split with Brazil's Patria.  Apparently, there are three other bands called Xeper, but for the most part, they are dormant projects.  I proclaim this Xeper to be the most Xeperious of all the Xepers.

Blood Capsule #330

SLAUGHTERHOUSE (1987)

"Bubba has an axe to grind.  A big axe."

What a tagline.  It jumped out at me when I first saw it at the video store.  I've since seen the movie twice, and each time, I've been impressed by the ingenuity on display.  That Slaughterhouse takes place in a slaughterhouse shouldn't surprise anyone; the slick production values might surprise a few people.  This slasher was made for nearly nothing.  The grody atmosphere recalls the austere conditions under which another slaughterhouse-themed film were made.  Yes, I'm talking about The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  Slaughterhouse is no Chainsaw, but the parallels are hard to miss.  I don't think I've seen so many pigs and feathers on celluloid before.  The plot deals with the foreclosure of an abattoir (sorry, I'm already tired of typing "slaughterhouse").  Lester Bacon refuses to sell the property.  The sheriff gives him thirty days to evacuate, but if I know ol' Les, he isn't going to go quietly.  And by that I mean, his mute giant of a son is going to kill a lot of people.

This flick is a little too good.  It will catch you off-guard with a host of basic character types.  You think you're settling in for a routine slasher.  And while Bubba does hack up a number of attractive twentysomethings, the script pays just as much attention to the adults on the periphery of the butchery.  You may not be invested in one specific person, but take the sheriff, for example.  He's quite competent, as is the deputy.  I'm not used to the authorities being useful in these kinds of situations.  In that respect, Slaughterhouse is a far cry from - oh, I don't know - Halloween 5.  We also get plenty of bloodshed.  The climax is strong, though I'm not sure that a sequel was necessary.  I say that because director Rick Roessler delivered Slaughterhouse 2, like, last year.  From what I understand, it's not...it's not.  Let's leave it at that.

Dom Reacts and Ranks!?

So I've started uploading more stuff to YouTube.  This is my ranking of the Cannibal Corpse discography.  Let me know what else I should rank!  They could be bands, movies, candy bars, ex-girlfriends (mine or yours), whatever.

Blood Capsule #329

BELIEVE (2000)

Upon glancing at writer/director Robert Tinnell's IMDb page, it becomes apparent that his heart is in the right place.  Those are probably the most glowing words I can dish on Believe, a domesticated "haunted house" flick that barely earns its PG rating.  I considered skipping out on this capsule.  But!  It's not too shabby.  A teenaged boy is forced to move in with his salty grandfather, and almost immediately, he notices a ghost on the premises.  Is his grandfather hiding some abstruse family secret?  If so, what does it have to do with the family across the street?  I'll level with you.  Believe is remarkably light stuff.  If it were a boxer, it would inhabit the featherweight division.  Or bantamweight.  I don't know anything about boxing.  You may have seen the (admittedly cool) VHS cover in the horror section at Blockbuster, but it's horror by rote.  There is no blood.  Even the atmosphere is flimsy despite a preponderance of the action taking place near a cemetery.

But!  Again!  I've seen worse, especially when it comes to family-friendly spookshows.  Ricky Mabe gives a favorable performance as our lead.  His girlfriend is played by a young Elisha Cuthbert.  This was well before her breakout turn in 24.  She couldn't have been any older than thirteen (you creep).  All of the adults are fine, but Believe is tailored for the young adult demographic.  Unfortunately, it's missing the wackiness of Goosebumps or Eerie, Indiana.  Still, I'll give it a halfhearted recommendation, listless though it may be.  That's all I got.

Random Album Alert

I have a thing for slow and/or mid-paced black metal.  Thus, I have a thing for Old Forest.

Blood Capsule #328

THE HORRIBLE DOCTOR BONES (2000)

What is it that makes us seek out grubby entertainment?  I'm convinced that some of us are born with a specific gene that makes us enjoy the most rotten films in existence.  Take The Horrible Doctor Bones, for instance.  I knew it was crap.  Did that deter me from popping it into my Blu-ray player?  Of course not.  If anything, it augmented the dopamine boost I experienced when I pressed play.  If you're wondering why I own this movie on disc (as I am at this very moment), it was simply cheap.  That's all it takes, friends. Bones was one of two cheapies churned out by Alchemy Entertainment, a subdivision of Full Moon that was supposed to specialize in "urban" horror.  The other was Ragdoll, and man, how does Charles Band sleep at night?  From the ground up, there is so much wrong happening here, some of it feels right.  The titular Dr. Bones is a famous hip-hop producer.  He's holding open auditions, the likes of which range in unease from edgy rap to...help me.  Please.  God, help me.

So Bones is going to transform listeners into zombies through liturgical chanting and general, all-purpose black magic.  For those curious, we do see zombies, but they're just regular people.  Y'know, method actors.  The doctor is played by Darrow Igus.  I dug his garish make-up (supplied by Gabe Bartalos), and I have to hand it to the guy.  He's committed, probably - no, definitely - going above and beyond the call of duty.  None of the cast members are actually bad.  The Horrible Doctor Bones itself isn't actually bad, especially compared to other Full Moon flotsam from the late 90's/early 00's.  It's not actually good either.  I'm sitting here and trying to remember what happened in the third act.  Wait, how many acts are there in a 72-minute film?

Iron Supplements #6

GENETIC WISDOM

I'll be upfront.  This particular Supplement isn't great or anything.  Genetic Wisdom is pretty cool.  Interesting even!  I'm listening to their debut LP at the moment, and it's just cool enough to write about.  The Fear Dimension was released in 1993, which was a sweet year.  Don't believe me?  It was the year of Ticks and Doink the Clown.  It couldn't have been that bad, right?  I don't know where trends were in the Netherlands (the band's country of origin), but over here, we were NOT into progressive thrash around this time.  Genetic Wisdom would have been seen as emphatically unfashionable.  Maybe that's why I dig them.  The first track - "Perseverance Kills the Game" - isn't too far removed from what Chuck Schuldiner was cooking up on Human.  There are no death metal elements, though.  The vocals are...meh.  Again, this record won't destroy you, but it shouldn't be this obscure.  I had to dig for the songs on The Fear Dimension individually, as I can't find it anywhere to stream or download.

Genetic Wisdom churned out one more album before calling it a day.  Check 'em out.  Or don't.  For metal nerds only.

Blood Capsule #327

METEOR MONSTER (1957)

I don't run across much independent fright fare from before 1970, so this is a treat.  Thankfully, I enjoyed Meteor Monster, which was released as Teenage Monster.  Story goes, cinematographer Jacques Marquette needed an inexpensive film to serve as the second half of a double feature with The Brain from Planet Arous (an awesome flick, by the way).  After his director quit on him, he ended up helming the project himself.  All of this is ironic, seeing as how Arous is already a "budget picture."  This was Marquette's only directorial credit.  I'm not sure what that says for the movie itself, but if you adjust your expectations accordingly, you'll find that Meteor Monster wines and dines you.  Hey, that's more of a commitment than I'm willing to make.  Nothing personal.  Anyway, this screwy slab of sci-fi horror is unique for the 50's in that it's a period piece.  Our action takes place towards the end of the nineteenth century.  The location?  Um, somewhere in the Southwest.  A meteor crashes in the next paragraph.

Right, so the meteor - literally a sparkler - kills a man and wounds his son.  We cut to seven years later.  The son is grown, but his injuries have turned him into a hideous monstrosity.  He looks like a cross between a werewolf and a caveman.  I don't know how a meteor can keep you from visiting a barbershop, but them's the breaks.  The rest of the plot involves a gold mine and manipulative shrews.  I'll hand it to screenwriter Ray Buffum; Meteor Monster is more engrossing than it has any right to be, at least on paper.  Dandy make-up effects come courtesy of Jack Pierce.  Apparently, Quentin Tarantino is a fan.  A clip from Meteor Monster shows up in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.  I'm going with four Z'Dars, but (and I know I'm repeating myself from other reviews) you have to consider the source.  I own the big box VHS that was released by Monterey Home Video as part of their Midnight Madness line.  That makes me cool, right?

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.

DOM REACTS!

Check this out, yo!  And give me something to react to!

Blood Capsule #324

THE CRATER LAKE MONSTER (1977)

If you look up reviews of this film, a couple of things will jump out at you.  A) The production company - Crown International - gave director William R. Stromberg a gastric ulcer (just guessing) by tampering with the final product.  B) You will notice throngs of dweebs grousing about the special effects.  Okay, maybe "throngs" is overshooting it a bit, but I did come across more than one artless comment on the stop-motion beastie in The Crater Lake Monster.  Don't listen to the dweebs.  This particular Plesiosaur looks incredible, considering the dinky budget.  I don't even know how certain shots were achieved.  The clay models mesh unjustifiably well with the actors.  And the bulldozers.  Yes, we get a brief struggle between our dinosaur and heavy machinery.  By the way, I'm calling it a dinosaur out of sheer laziness.  It's a prehistoric something that is shaken to life by a meteor.  I'm realizing with age that a generous portion of the best movies ever made begin with a bolide fireball landing in the middle of a forest.

To that end, I wouldn't rank this flick over other contenders in the "meteor monster" sub-subgenre.  Sorry, but it doesn't touch The Blob or Killer Klowns from Outer Space.  It's definitely fun, though.  I'm contractually obligated to enjoy it on account of a gratuitous car chase.  It's so random, as is the double homicide that leads to the car chase.  Seriously, where did that come from?  I do have to deduct points for the goofball comedy.  For some ungodly reason, we spend an inordinate amount of time with the muttonhead owners of a boat rental service.  The film won't let them fade from memory.  I guess we're supposed to react when one of them ends up as chum.  Personally, if I were the Crater Lake Monster (y'know, in The Crater Lake Monster), I would demand better chum.  I'd still say this is a fine motion picture.  Slightly superior to 1985's The Sea Serpent, which I recently watched.  Slightly inferior to the fossilized dung of the Midwestern Tree Dolphin.

Gotta watch out for those tree dolphins.

Iron Supplements #5

BEHOLDER

Here is one for fans of epic metal.  Beholder also falls into the power metal camp, although they're nowhere near, say, Hammerfall.  They trend towards Candlemass-style doom, with vocalist John Yelland (of Judicator fame) sounding like a younger Robert Lowe.  Any Dungeons & Dragons players in the house?  Apparently, that's where the name comes from.  A Beholder is a "floating orb of flesh with a large mouth, single central eye, and many smaller eyestalks on top with powerful magical abilities."  I probably just scared you off, but don't recoil just yet.  This stuff jams.  You can expect to hear prize-winning riffs and saucy solos (sorry, my adjectives are out of control) on In the Temple of the Tyrant, the 2025 full-length debut.  Amorphis frontman Tomi Joutsen delivers guest growls on "Eyes of the Deep," which is currently massaging my earholes.  All in all, this band is kicking my crippled caboose.  Highly recommended for fans of air guitar and...um, paladins.

Short story!  I once played D&D at a coffeehouse.  Once.  The night ended with my character (a druid, if memory serves) committing suicide as I ran over the game pieces with my wheelchair.  For some reason, I wasn't invited back.

Blood Capsule #323 (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).

THE HOWLING (1981)

I'll end the suspense.  The Howling is my favorite werewolf movie of all time.  I have a sick fascination with the sequels, but they really did it right the first time.  Watching it last night (after a period of dormancy that lasted several years), things clicked for me.  I think I know why it works.  I mean, I've always known, but this most recent viewing shed some clarity on the matter.  The Howling is one of a handful - and that's being generous - of lycanthropictures that perfectly balances vein-slashing horror with genuine pathos.  The secret weapon?  Dee Wallace Stone.  She's invaluable as TV journalist Karen White, so much so that I can't imagine the film without her.  None of it, not even Rob Bottin's jaw-dropping special effects, would hit the same without her ardent, solemn performance at the core of the film.  If you need a synopsis, White is sent on a furlough to a mountain resort to find some solace after a harrowing episode where she assisted the police in nabbing a serial killer.

I don't think I'm spoiling anything by saying that this leave of absence is interrupted by a gaggle of werewolves.  The creatures themselves are fierce.  I can only echo the sentiments of others when it comes to the transformation sequence, which I just learned was shot after director Joe Dante ran out of money.  Who needs a budget anyway?  This is a five-Z'Dar supernova of fur and wolfsbane (I'm using five Z'Dars from my personal collection, I'll have you know), but it should be noted that the midsection is sluggish.  As much as I try to silence my inner critic, I had to mention it.  That doesn't diminish the explosive third act, though.  John Carradine earns a nomination in the category for Best Supporting Actor That is Almost Dead.  And that was a tough playing field, too.  Elisabeth Brooks was a shoe-in for Sexiest Werewolf Bitch.  I'm kidding; that's not a real category.

Random Album Alert

Another day, another 2025 release that rips.  The band is Shrieking Demons, and this is an excellent slab of death metal.  Could very well end up on my year-end list.

Blood Capsule #322

UNNATURAL (2024)

Disclaimer!  I'm only roping Unnatural into Random Werewolf Month for two sketchy reasons.  How sketchy?  Enough to warrant a disclaimer.  I needed there to be a "current" film amongst the dead pool of titles that I curated.  Also, this is a werewolf movie for, like, five minutes (the first five, to be exact).  It switches to vampire mode for the rest of the running time.  I had to include it, though.  Folks, Unnatural is a horror/western hybrid starring Al Snow.  Yes, the wrestler.  I didn't realize that he entertained an acting career on the side, but his IMDb page is variegated in an assortment of low-budget projects that range in style from horror to Homeless for the Holidays, whatever you would call that.  He's pitch-perfect here as a grizzled cowboy.  Actually, that's going to be a theme, as I have to say that Unnatural is pretty...unbad.  Don't get me wrong.  It's obvious that this flick is limited in scope, but I didn't spot nearly as many unintentional gaffes as I was expecting.

Snow plays a stolid, imperturbable drifter who opens the film by saving his grandchildren from a werewolf.  Incidentally, our lycanthrope looks...can I use "unbad" again?  It's un-ungood.  From there, we cut back and forth to a Dodge City of sorts.  The sheriff is a bloodsucker.  By God, if Al Snow can't send him and his acolytes back to Hell, he's going to die trying.  That running time I mentioned clocks in at 103 minutes.  Normally, that would be a hindrance for a z-grade picture show, but while Unnatural moves at a methodical pace, I was never bored.  I was hoping to see Al Snow dispatch monsters at high noon/midnight, and for better or worse, that's what I got.  If I want to sleep at night, however, I can't hand out any more than three Z'Dars.  That's just the way it is.  Now, I'm no wobblin' jaw, so I'm going to head for the door.  Don't squat with your shootin' spurs on, partner.

By the way, Unnatural II and III are in pre-production.  Hot dog!

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Blood Capsule #321

AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN PARIS (1997)

I imagine that fans who flocked to see this film in 1997 were disappointed that it didn't (correction: couldn't) live up to An American Werewolf in London.  Can I share something with you?  Promise not to laugh?  In my opinion, London is overrated.  Any moron could tell you that the special effects were incredible, but it left me feeling flat.  It's definitely not my favorite werewolf movie.  Not even close (I'll get to my actual favorite a couple of reviews from now...patience, patience).  If you view Paris as a true sequel, it's not going to wash your dishes.  However, if you view it as a stand-alone creature feature, one produced in the gizzard of a slasher boom, you might find that most of its punches connect.  The main dude is played by Tom Everett Scott.  He is vacationing in France with his daredevil buddies, and right off the bat, this flick has a leg up on the original.  The oh-so-significant best friends are brought to life by perennial "that guy" actors Vince Vieluf and Phil Buckman.  Simply put, they rock.

This is the last time I'll reference it, but I never felt a connection to the side characters in London.  Here, they're entertaining, and as an added bonus, they play an integral role in the storyline.  Conversely, I can't say that the chemistry between our cloying leads is particularly riveting.  Julie Delpy is fine as the lycanthropic love interest, but...meh.  The rain-soaked opening credits ensured me that Paris would be easy on the eyes.  And it is, with the exception of the werewolves.  Good Lord, the CGI has not aged well.  It looks foul.  Malodorous even!  That's a crucial bone of contention, considering that the werewolves are the stars of the show.  In terms of gore, nothing stands out.  I realize that it sounds as if I've soured on An American Werewolf in Paris over the course of this capsule, but I had fun with it.  I enjoyed it more than I did when I saw it at the fragile age of thirteen.  I'm pretty sure I was just waiting to see boobs and/or blood in 1997.  I'd like to think I've matured since then.  Ahem.