Blood Capsule #209

ISLAND OF THE FISHMEN (1979)

I think I've made it clear that I have a well-documented admiration for "fishman" movies.  The last time I took a swim in these muddled, crepuscular waters, I encountered mediocrity in the shape of The Presence.  Just how many more "fishman" follies are snorkeling around out there?  You'd be surprised.  I have other titles in my sights, but for now, let's talk about Island of the Fishmen.  First off, you may have seen this film under a different designation.  In 1981, Roger Corman and Jim Wynorski released it as Screamers for American audiences.  It was refashioned and essentially repackaged, containing over fifteen minutes of new footage, some of which was added gore.  I peeped this version years ago, but my memories are hazy at best.  You may prefer the domestic cut.  Personally, I...need a paragraph break.

Borrowing elements from The Island of Dr. Moreau, the plot follows a prisoner ship that washes ashore onto a remote island.  The military doctor and his convict shipmates run afoul of a demented sportsman type who seems to hold authority over a (mad) scientist.  We also meet the scientist's beautiful daughter and the ichthyoid creatures that protect her.  Could these deep-sea customers be the descendants of the indwellers of Atlantis?  I hesitate to reveal much more.  This droning kind of synopsis might turn viewers away from Fishmen, but you know what?  I was entertained.  The sets are impressive, and while it does take time to start bubbling, the action is explosive.  Literally!  An erupting volcano turns the backdrop into a near-apocalyptic scene of falling stalactites and roving fishmen.

Island of the Fishmen is divested of the sleaze and bloodshed you'll find in Screamers, but I still found a way to have fun with it.  Believe it or not, there is a sequel, and yes, I'm going to grab a copy.

You can decide the fate of the universe!

If you head on over to the Random Reviews Fan Club, you can help me decide what to review in September.  The poll is currently tied...it's either going to be Random Sequel Month or Mummy Month.  As for August, it's going to be the usual stack of random nonsense.  And October, well, I have something planned, but I'm not ready to announce it yet.

Rock the vote!

Blood Capsule #208

8 MAN (1992)

Do "Robocop ripoffs" count as a subgenre?  I'm reorganizing my VHS collection, and I need to know where to put R.O.T.O.R.  No, actually, today's movie was only partially inspired by Alex Murphy.  Based on an anime and a manga, 8 Man tells the story of a cop who is gunned down on duty.  His remains may have been perforated with lead (or an alloy of zinc and copper; some metalhead I am), but the police chief believes that he is a perfect candidate for an experimental scientific procedure.  Yes, a supercop is born.  The department he works for contains seven subdivisions, so he is dubbed 8 Man.  It should be noted that this b-machine takes just as many cues from Ultraman and other Kyodai Hero crusaders as it does from Robocop, but the similarities are hard to miss.  Still, apart from a couple of squibs here and there, this is no bloodbath.

The 83-minute running time is deceptive.  While the film does start with zippy action sequences, it takes awhile to get to the pith of the plot.  Efforts are made to establish a love triangle.  I wasn't feeling it, but to be fair, I don't feel human emotions.  In a sense, I could relate to our protagonist.  There is a steel rod affixed to the lower half of my spine.  Scoliosis be damned, I tell people that I was gunned down on duty.  Back on topic!  The lion's share of 8 Man is nothing but nighttime exteriors, and it's constantly raining.  I mean, it's coming down in sheets.  Credit director Yasuhiro Horiuchi for making everything cinematic and streamlined.  All in all, this was an acceptable way to spend a Friday night.  The climactic showdown between dueling 8 Men is fun, although I didn't have much investment in the outcome.

Superior to Robocop 3, yet inferior to R.O.T.O.R.  Recommended to fans of 8 Mile and The Hateful Eight.  Oh, and Octaman.

Image taken from the arcade game, a side-scroller published in 1991 for the Neo Geo MVS.

Freddy Speaks: A Cool Random Find

I remember catching this documentary (or something very similar) when I was 9 or 10 years old.  It scared the bejeebles out of me!

Blood Capsule #207

THE BELIEVERS (1987)

Santeria is a vaguely (or not-so-vaguely, depending on the person practicing it) occult religion that came to prominence in Cuba in the late 19th century.  It's also an overplayed Sublime song.  For our purposes, we'll focus on the esoteric kind of Santeria that gets bandied about in today's subject.  Typically, it's synonymous with Haitian voodoo, but while this film would make a sweet double feature with The Serpent and the Rainbow, that's technically a different thing altogether.  I wouldn't use The Believers as a reference guide, however.  It doesn't portray these beliefs in a particularly positive light, and when it comes down to it, I don't know many Cubans who are big proponents of child sacrifice.  Of course, I don't know many Cubans.  What the hell happened to this review?

All you need to know is that this is an incredibly effective piece of work.  Martin Sheen turns in a believable performance as a distraught therapist.  Everyone else is dialed in, from a sympathetic Helen Shaver to an immeasurably creepy Harris Yulin.  The pacing is even-keeled.  I didn't notice that this was a two-hour ordeal.  And that holds water coming from me, as I can be a bit of a fussbudget when it comes to anything that runs for more than 90 minutes.  Hey, I'm a busy man.  I'll have you know that I'm scheduled to listen to death metal later this evening, and after that, um, I might watch an old episode of The Outer Limits.  My time is valuable!  Anyway, do yourself a favor and check out The Believers.  Recommended to fans of Papa Shango and dead chickens.

Blood Capsule #206

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

MIDNIGHT (1982)

I need to go on a diet.  I only mention it because this film comes off like a diet version of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  Granted, it's missing cannibalism.  It's also missing a pervading sense of trepidation and that overall queasy feeling that permeated the Tobe Hooper classic.  In writer/director John Russo's defense, he claims that he never saw TCM before concocting this backwoods...slasher?  I guess it could be labeled as "survival horror," but then again, so could my ex-girlfriend's post-coital facial expression.  After a portentous prologue, we meet Nancy.  She runs away from home to circumvent her scumbag stepfather and winds up hitchhiking with a couple of petty thieves.  Along the way, our merry cast of ne'er-do-wells stumbles into a Leatherface-sized moonling and a pair of crooked cops.

Let me fast-forward a bit.  We find out that a Satanic cult is picking off civilians, and I don't consider that to be a spoiler.  I mean, that's your basic premise.  "Basic" is probably the most fitting adjective I could use to describe Midnight.  This is a meat-and-potatoes kind of flick, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.  To the contrary!  I found the character-focused script to be refreshing.  For about an hour anyway.  The payoff doesn't land, although I got a kick out of Tom Savini's splatter effects.  Apparently, he turned down Friday the 13th Part 2 to work on this film.  There is a sequel floating around out there somewhere.  I doubt that I'll be able to nab a copy.  I shouldn't say that, as I've spent questionable amounts of money in the name of VHS collecting.  How much is questionable?  Mind your own business, partner.

Album Cover of the Whatever

I can't say that I'm a huge fan of Limbonic Art.  I like symphonic black metal, but...meh.  For those who are interested, this record came out last month.  And that cover...space dragons?  Okey-dokey.

Random Match Alert

Have I posted a Doink match lately?  If not, I apologize.  Here he is grappling with Bob Backlund!

Check out my Patreon!

So I've been posting every other review to my Patreon to give those folks early access.  As of today, I'm going to start posting all of my reviews on Patreon a full week before they show up here.  And I just posted one, so the next week might be a little slow.  I have to support my horrible habits somehow!

A fool and his money...

I'm just vain enough to fall for "colored cassette" gimmicks.  While I wish I was a little more frugal, I have to admit that these things are cool.  Can you blame me for wanting to show off the latest additions to my collection?  These tapes aren't particularly rare (at least I don't think they are), but again, look at the pretty colors!  Dark Roots of Earth comes in midnight blue.  It's actually my favorite Testament album.  Does that count as a hot take?  Because it really shouldn't.  The Legacy is purple, and I'm looking forward to getting more acquainted with it.

That's all for now.  Hey, it's my site; I can post whatever nonsense strikes my fancy.

My latest wrestling crush...

This just in - Stephanie Vaquer is on her way to NXT!  She was last seen at AEW's Forbidden Door where she wrestled Mercedes Mone.  It's clear that she has something, and quite frankly, she outgunned the former Sasha Banks.  Now, you may be wondering how I can balance so many crushes.  While it may be true that I'm beginning to lose count, it's totally cool.  I can handle it.  Totally.

Blood Capsule #205

THE MONSTER MAKER (1944)

I watched a VHS reissue of this cozy b-quickie, a joint release by Lunchmeat and The Video Pharmacy (check down below for more info on Lunchmeat founder Josh Schafer).  This isn't a paid advertisement, although I'm still waiting for a company like Hostess to sponsor my reviews.  Did you know that twinkies are the official snack cake of Random Reviews Incorporated?  But I digress!  If The Monster Maker was produced today, it would exist in a space far removed from the studio system.  While technically not an independent feature, it was hatched on "Poverty Row," a humble enclave within Hollywood that pottered around with low-budget projects.  You may have heard of PRC.  They were also responsible for The Devil Bat starring Bela Lugosi.  I'm getting mired in trivia.  Let's cut to the brass tacks, the nitty-gritty, the sum and substance of the matter.

The storyline follows Dr. Ivan Markoff, a deliciously mad scientist who has brewed a serum that cures acromegaly, a disorder of the pituitary gland that causes disproportionate bone growth.  He has also brewed a serum that spreads acromegaly.  When a renowned pianist spurns Dr. Markoff's advances toward his daughter, the brilliant bedlamite sees an opportunity to use his discovery as a bargaining chip.  This results in some pretty gnarly make-up effects that would make Jack Pierce proud.  The methodical pacing did test my patience, but this whimsical artifact only runs for 62 minutes.  I didn't get a chance to say that I was ever truly bored.  There is a subplot involving a caged primate that doesn't go anywhere.  Eh, you can't win 'em all.  Recommended to fans of neurotoxins.

Josh has released a VHS-themed joke book...buy it HERE!

Do you like death metal and H.P. Lovecraft?

If so, I've got the album for you.  I will say, I don't think I'm cluing many people in on Unaussprechlichen Kulten.  They have been around since the early 2000's.  Haxan Sabaoth is album number six, and it's a monster.  Something cosmic with tentacles, I imagine.  Each (de)composition is thronged with dank, smelly riffs that are broken up by intermittent blastbeats and inoculated with a heavy dose of occult atmosphere.  There is something to be said for a well-placed pipe organ.

Now that I think about it, this might be Unaussprechlichen Kulten's best album to date.  Zoth-Ommog* would approve.

*The third son of Cthulhu.  C'mon, everyone knows that.

My book is out! My book is out!

See up top where it says BUY MY BOOK?  Click that.  Or just click HERE.  I've highlighted TWO WAYS you can read my book.  It's been a long road, folks.  Or is this just the beginning???

Blood Capsule #204

DEATH MAGIC (1992)

I don't make a habit out of dipping my toes into shot-on-video waters.  As much as I love unmitigated masterstrokes such as Video Violence and Cannibal Campout (that sounds facetious, but I'm totally here for those flicks), my micro-budget batting average has been miserable as of late.  Will Death Magic spark a hot streak?  Sticking with a baseball analogy, will this supernatural slasher signal a feverish spate of home runs, or at least ground-rule doubles?  I'm afraid I'm not making it out of the infield.  'Tis a shame, as I like a lot of the elements here.  The set-up is a breeze.  Five necromancers summon the spirit of a confederate soldier, a nasty rapscallion who was put to death for senselessly butchering Native Americans.  Within the first twenty minutes, our villain is called forth and blood is spilled.  Yay?

I think that's the problem.  Death Magic blows its load in the first act, which only leaves running time for repetition and strained character development.  Obviously, I don't remember names or faces.  I do remember boobs, and I suppose I should be grateful for the drive-in totals.  The gore gags are so simple, and yet, so charming.  Lamentably, the pace isn't industrious enough to support the bare essentials.  I wanted to dig Death Magic, too.  I'm awarding one Z'Dar for effort and another Z'Dar for licentious nudity.  There are eight breasts total, so that comes to...um, I'm terrible with fractions.  I knew I should have majored in algebra instead of forensic pathology.  By "forensic pathology," I mean "I dropped out of community college."  Yay?

"Oh, alright.  You're too cool to lock up."

A sneak peek at the cover of my book!

How awesome is that???  The cover of my upcoming book was designed by Lauren Gornik.  Huge thanks to her!  You know what this means, don't you?  It means that we are creeping ever closer to the book's release.  I'll let everyone know when I pencil in the actual date.  It's hitting paperback first with an online version following soon after.  Get stoked!

Now Playing #13

Communic - Conspiracy in Mind

If you look up any reviews for Communic, you will find plenty of comparisons to Nevermore.  Fair or unfair, it's undeniable that these Norwegians ply the same progressive form of traditional heavy metal.  And then there's the fact that vocalist/guitarist Oddleif Stensland sounds a lot like the late Warrel Dane.  I'm not here to cast aspersions or use the "r" word (hint: it rhymes with "'zipoff"), though.  At the end of the day, the more music out there that can be described as Nevermore-esque, the better.  Conspiracy in Mind is their debut full-length, and it came out in 2005.  It's teeming with catchy hooks, melodic leads, and sophisticated arrangements.  Favorite cuts?  "Ocean Bed" and the title track, not that there are any weak links.  Check it out!

Sebastian Bach - Child Within the Man

Am I really dishing on a Sebastian Bach album in 2024?  Damn the odds (and the torpedoes).  Before you smirk disparagingly in my direction, I'll have you know that Baz's track record as a solo artist is pretty much spotless.  Don't believe me?  Scope out 2007's Angel Down, which ranks up there with Skid Row's finest moments.  It's not a competition, but for what it's worth, this stuff torches the modern iteration of his former band.  Say what you want about the guy; he can sing.  What is he, 94?  The fact that he can still hit some of these notes is low-key astounding.  Overall, Child Within the Man is a sprightly, dynamic slice of hard rock that features as many memorable choruses as it does guest guitar solos.  I think Orianthi plays on "Future of Youth."  I forgot that she existed.

If you can stomach the generic songtitles, I'd advise eyeballing "(Hold On) To the Dream," "Crucify Me," and the ultra-slick "About to Break."  Hey, you can't listen to black metal all of the time.  I mean, you could, but you can't wear corpsepaint in the rain, now can you?

Blood Capsule #203

THE PRESENCE (1992)

A couple of months back, give or take, I reviewed Fright Night Part 2.  I had so much fun with it, I decided to explore the rest of director Tommy Lee Wallace's resume.  One title kept sticking out.  This title, as a matter of fact.  It's a made-for-TV morsel that was intended to be a pilot for a series that never germinated.  I've covered a lot of those lately.  Strange.  Anyway, The Presence feels formulaic, like it could have been directed by anyone.  Synopsis!  After a plane crashes in the Pacific, the inhabitants wash ashore on some remote island.  They find bananas, coconuts, and an abandoned military base.  Two of the men are groped by a tentacled critter, and as a result, they begin to mutate in different ways.  So what happened on this island?  And should our survivors be worried that ol' Frank is developing reptilian features?

I suppose it would be more appropriate to say that he's turning into an amphibian, but I'm not your biology teacher.  I will only tell you what you need to know.  That is, The Presence has a fishman in it!  This sub-subgenre is the bee's kneecaps.  Whether it's the Gillman in Creature From the Black Lagoon or the mucky sex offenders in Humanoids From the Deep, I'm a huge fan of these particular monsters.  Unfortunately, the fauna in this flick is pretty insignificant in the overall scheme of things.  It doesn't even kill anyone.  All told, the majority of The Presence would fit nicely in the action/adventure section of your local video store.  I had to see it, though.  I had to be sure, y'know?  For what it is, it's competent.  The pace is kinetic, and hey, we get to ogle Kathy Ireland in a pink bathing suit.

Recommended to fans of driftwood and Beach Blanket Bingo.

Random Match Alert

You want random?  I got random.  Here's a match from late in Hakushi's WWF run.  He doesn't even get an entrance, as it's obvious they're pushing Goldust to the moon.  The match itself is a banger.  For my money, the New Generation Era went just as hard as any other era in the history of American pro-wrestling.

Blood Capsule #202

FUNERAL HOME (1980)

If I had my druthers, I would have watched this movie on VHS.  I've been after the Paragon big box version for years.  You could say that it's one of my holy grails, along with other choice heirlooms that are out of my price range.  Of course, I only want it for the artwork* (pictured below).  The movie itself is almost inconsequential.  It's certainly not atrocious, but it's not something I've been dying to write about.  An early instance of "hick horror," Funeral Home follows 16-year-old Heather.  She's staying with her grandmother for the summer and helping out with the family business.  To wit, they run a bed and breakfast, but the domicile used to be a funeral parlor.  It isn't long before guests begin to disappear.  So we have a slasher on our hands.  Who is doing the slashing?

No, it's not Wink Martindale.  Is he still alive?  I digress; the killer's identity is exceedingly easy to predict.  The lack of any real twists hinders the final product more than anything.  If I had to smoke out a silver lining, it would be the menacing atmosphere.  Director William Fruet does a swell job of framing an otherwise uneventful exposition.  Trivia! He also shot Blue Monkey, Killer Party, Spasms, and upwards of 27 (!) episodes of Goosebumps.  That's a lot of Goosebumps.  If Funeral Home was written by R.L. Stine, maybe we would find out that the title location resided in outer space.  Yeah, that's what it needed.  A little spice.  As it stands, it's just a 3-Z'Dar affair, and that's being generous.  Nothing to see here, folks.

*The Blu-ray is adorned with the same image, but pfft.  Where's the fun in that?

Make Room for Dom

Went to a wedding yesterday.  Only succeeded in making me want to watch The Stepfather 2.  As for the rest of the week, you can expect more Blood Capsules and maybe a short story.  I'm going to post it on Patreon in five installments, starting maybe tomorrow.  I know that's a lot of maybes, but it's definitely going to happen.  If you decide that you want to read it, click HERE and sign up like all the other cool kids.

Album Cover of the Whatever

This sleeper hit of sorts juuuuust missed my Best Metal of 2024...So Far list.  The band is Thanatotherion.  The subgenre is black metal with some ambient touches.  The album cover is insane.  Seriously, that's one for the books.

Best Metal of 2024...So Far

This list is in no particular order.  I hate making lists of any kind, but since we're at the halfway mark of the year, it seems like the thing to do.  It will be interesting to see if any of these records will wind up on my year-end list.  Note!  I'm currently listening to Severe Torture's Torn From the Jaws of Death.  I suggest you do the same.  It just about ripped my head clean off.

Abigor -  Taphonomia Aeternitatis

Caligula's Horse - Charcoal Grace

Unaussprechlichen Kulten - Haxan Sabaoth

Dool - The Shape of Fluidity

Wheel - Charismatic Leaders

Sarcasm - Mourninghoul

Suldusk - Anthesis

Severe Torture - Torn From the Jaws of Death

Sebastian Bach - Child Within the Man

Blood Capsule #201

BURIAL GROUND: THE NIGHT OF TERROR (1981)

File this one under "movies I really should have seen by now."  Burial Ground feels like a lost Lucio Fulci joint, which means it's right up my alley.  For the record, my alley is littered with refuse and alcohol-scented bums that look like George "Buck" Flower.  Back on topic, Dom!  The plot is so bare, that if it were a person, I would be concerned for its well-being.  All gaunt and rawboned, the script follows an archeologist who has uncovered a putrid crypt, a baronial thing of stone that houses an army of the undead.  And that's it.  My meager synopsis could almost pass for the script itself.  There are plenty of characters, but you will only remember Michael.  Oh, Michael.  He is the awkward son of our leading lady.  Don't ask me to pinpoint his age.  Most likely, he frequents kindergarten (the jury's out on whether he's a student or a teacher).

Burial Ground is notorious for its rampant gore.  Again, I'm reminded of Fulci, but as much as I love The Beyond and City of the Living Dead, they are a little harder to penetrate.  This flick doesn't follow dream logic.  No, it's wide awake, and the breakneck pace ensures viewer participation.  Once the zombie action starts in earnest, it doesn't let up until we see the ending credits.  Needless to say, the special effects are stupendous.  While it may be true that exploding heads lose their charm after awhile - wait, hold up; that's not true at all!  Add Burial Ground: The Night of Terror (a.k.a. Zombie Minus One...just kidding) to your chopping list pronto.  It's an effortless watch.  I'm deducting one Z'Dar because of Michael.  Oh, Michael.

Discography Diving

Does anybody else do this?  Discography diving is not unlike dumpster diving, I reckon, but it can be rewarding.  What you do is you pick a band, preferably a band that has amassed a substantial catalog.  Maybe it's a band you've been meaning to get into and just haven't for some reason.  Sear Bliss is the example I'll be using for this demonstration.  I feel like I need a projector.  Next slide!

So Sear Bliss.  They're a Hungarian atmospheric black metal band, and I noticed they had a record coming out soon.  That's what prompted me to check them out, though I have yet to listen to any of their modern stuff.  I went back to their debut, 1996's Phantoms.  Right up front, I can tell you that this album is superior to the Ben Affleck movie of the same name.  Actually, it's awesome.  Unspeakably awesome.  Allowing for the new one, they have released nine full-lengths, so I predict more diving in the not-too-distant future.

Man, dig that guitar solo in "Aeons of Desolation."  Yowza.  The demonstration is over.  Hey, it's a sleepy Sunday.  What do you want from me?

Blood Capsule #200

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

THE GIANT CLAW (1957)

What can I say about this movie that hasn't already been said about irritable bowel syndrome?  I jest, but The Giant Claw does have a sizeable reputation.  Somehow, I had managed to avoid it until last night, and that's not cool.  I was curious to see if it offered anything past an absurd marionette.  The plot gets brownie points for embracing pseudo-scientific piffle.  I love that stuff.  Here, the monster dodges radar detection (it's dodgy alright) with an invisible shield of some sort, as it's composed of anti-matter.  I have no idea what that means, and I'm assuming that director Fred F. Sears didn't either.  Tragically, Sears passed away almost immediately after production wrapped.  My first instinct is to follow that up with a tasteless joke.  Something about talons clutching the coffin.  I don't know; you fill in the blanks.

Side characters broach the topic of folk legends.  This could be one of the first films to introduce a prospective cryptid into the cultural zeitgeist.  So it's worth noting for at least one reason other than...y'know.  I'm trying to focus on anything else, but the ridiculous beastie is making it difficult.  I did notice that most of the dialogue felt natural, which threw me for a loop.  Trivia!  The special effects were very nearly rendered by Ray Harryhausen, but producer Sam Katzman couldn't justify spending that much money.  Well, I hope he's happy.  I'm glad that I watched The Giant Claw myself.  Apart from the obvious, it's business as usual for a budget picture from the 1950's.  That's definitely a good thing.

Random Match Alert

Okay, so this match isn't entirely random.  It's certainly interesting, given the heights to which Rhea has ascended.  As for Io, I think I've made it clear that she's, like, destined to be my wife and stuff.

A book update!

What does my book have to do with The X-Files, you might be wondering?  Absolutely nothing.  I've just been watching a lot of The X-Files lately.  I recently added the Comet app to my Roku, which is where I meet up with Mulder and Scully on a nightly basis.  Man, I love that show.  But you asked about my book, didn't you?  I'm eyeballing a July release date.  Of course, things could always backfire.  I should probably say "sometime this year," but I'm thinking July.  We shall see.

Also, you should know that I'm going to publish the paperback version first.  Kindle will come later, but that's going to take some extra work.  It's a learning process.  Apparently, the online version has to be formatted a certain way.  I won't bore you with the details.  Like I said, it's a learning process.  I'll try to keep everyone in the loop.  That's all for now, kids!

A Band: Weapon

I'll make this direct and to the point, which is fitting because Weapon's music is a direct punch to the gut (the good kind).  Who is Weapon?  They were a blackened death metal band that hailed from Canada, releasing two EPs and three LPs before calling it quits in 2013.  As is usually the case with unsung obscurities, I don't remember how I chanced upon them.  Naturally, Weapon was done kicking ass when I did find out about them.  I'm most familiar with their third album, 2012's Embers and Revelations, but you should know that all of their material is worth scoping out.

So what do they sound like?  I just perused the "Similar Artists" tab on Metal Archives out of curiosity, and I would say the closest touchstones are The Chasm and late-era Rotting Christ.  Also, I'm hearing a hefty dose of Behemoth.  To be specific, I'm hearing shades of Demigod and Zos Kia Cultus.  It's becoming popular in the underground to slag Behemoth, and I don't know why.  That's probably a tangent I should neglect to pursue, but personally, I love those Behemoth records.  Your mileage may vary.  Weapon's tunes are stippled with blastbeats and a generous portion of lead breaks.  If you're a fan of guitar solos, this is the band for you.  And wouldn't you know it?  I'm a fan of guitar solos.

Lyrically, we're in Satanic territory.  I would bemoan the trite themes being dissected here, but at least this stuff is well-written.  As a writer, that's honestly more important to me than the content itself.  So yeah.  Check out Weapon.

The Night Flier

For anyone who cares, this is probably the last full-length (I consider at least four paragraphs to be full-length) review that I'll write for the site.  For awhile anyway.  Reason being, I want them to be reserved for somewhat special occasions.  Plus, working on a book full of Blood Capsules has conditioned my brain to think in terse, laconic terms.  By the way, this is definitely a special occasion.  I love The Night Flier.  It's one of my favorite films of all time (top 5, easily), and as a matter of fact, I thought that I had reviewed it already.  What better way to end Vampire Month than to talk about the most underrated Stephen King adaptation out there?  No one ever mentions it.  Drives me nuts.

The late, great Miguel Ferrer stars as Richard Dees, a character that has surfaced in other King tales.  He's a blood-hungry reporter working for Inside View, a salacious rag most comparable to Weekly World News.  His boss gives him first crack at a story too bizarre to be real.  Some lunatic is flying into desolate airports in the pitch of night and butchering everyone there.  Victims are marked with neck wounds, "holes as big as railroad spikes."  So what's this guy's deal?  Why does he think he's a vampire, and how did he get a pilot's license?  Dees, a pilot himself, is determined to find out.  We spend most of the film with him, and I'm going to need a whole new paragraph to praise Ferrer's performance.

He is such a dick.  Dees has been hardened by life, and as such, he is full of acid words for anyone unfortunate enough to veer into his vicinity.  He pelts poor Katherine, a fresh-faced journalist competing for the front page.  She is played with poise and pathos by Julie Entwisle.  Trivia!  Entwisle married director Mark Pavia not long after shooting wrapped on The Night Flier.  More trivia!  Pavia and King co-wrote a sequel nearly twenty years ago, but the funding wasn't there.  Okay, I'm getting ahead of myself.  I need to pat cinematographer David Connell on the back.  Despite a scrawny budget (the film was originally headed for theaters before premiering on HBO), the imagery is crisp.  Prismatic colors bleed off the screen.  Damn near stained my carpet.

I'll level with you.  I'm going to give The Night Flier five Z'Dars, but it's not perfect.  I've seen the thing so many times, I don't see the pockmarks anymore.  For instance, the acting is sketchy from the peripheral players.  A gravedigger here, a hairdresser there...it doesn't add up to much.  The carnage is just gory enough.  The special effects are fantastic, and yes, that includes a nominal amount of CGI.  There are a lot of reasons why I love The Night Flier.  Chief among them?  It's cool.  No, really.  The villain is cool, the basic plot is cool, and even the short story is cool.  Speaking of which, you can find it in Nightmares & Dreamscapes.  You can find The Night Flier pretty much anywhere.  Watch it yesterday.

Album Cover of the Whatever

Vrykolakas is a death metal band based out of Singapore.  No, I don't know how the hell I come across this stuff, but all that matters is the album cover.  And that's a great one!  The music isn't too shabby either.

Blood Capsule #199

VAMPIRE (1979)

I didn't mean to scare up a host of made-for-TV horror movies from the 70's, but here I am.  This time, the network was ABC and the saber-toothed knave was Richard Lynch.  Honestly, it took awhile to warm up to Vampire.  The exposition is pretty dry.  Lynch plays a ghoul whose coffin is disturbed when a church is erected in San Francisco.  One minute, he is rising from the grave, brushing away loose ground and glowering in the direction of an improbably ginormous cross.  The next?  He's dealing in antiques.  It's an abrupt transition, especially considering that we're supposed to be afraid of some dandy being questioned about his art collection.  He says he didn't steal those paintings.  Hey, I believe him, but that doesn't stop the police from detaining him behind bars.  Like I said, the plot is...dehydrated?  Don't turn the channel just yet, though.

If you can stomach the unpalatable first act, the story takes a few detours that you won't see coming.  Well, I didn't see them coming.  The characters actually get a chance to grieve when someone dies, which is something I can't say for most genre treats.  Jason Miller and E.G. Marshall deserve honorable mentions for their performances as an architect and a retired cop, respectively.  It goes without blabbing that Lynch is dignified as all hell.  The pace stutters near the climax.  It's almost not worth mentioning, but I have to wonder if the awkward ending was intentional.  Vampire was technically a pilot for a series that was never developed.  Taken as a stand-alone piece, it's sturdy enough to recommend.  I wouldn't choose it over that same year's Salem's Lot, however.