Blood Capsule #247

STING OF DEATH (1966)

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

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

Recommended to fans of bioluminescence and volleyball.

The Spanish one-sheet.

Random Match Alert

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

Blood Capsule #246

VOODOO DAWN (1990)

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

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

My advice?  Watch Candyman again.

Album Cover of the Whatever

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

Blood Capsule #245

I, MONSTER (1971)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blood Capsule #244

ABERRATION (1997)

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

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

Now Playing #16

Jerry Cantrell - I Want Blood

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

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

Vuur - In This Moment We Are Free (Cities)

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

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

Blood Capsule #243

THE HAUNTING OF MORELLA (1990)

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

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

My thoughts on the new Blood Incantation album...

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

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

Blood Capsule #242

CELLAR DWELLER (1988)

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

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

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

The Kane Multiverse

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

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

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

Blood Capsule #241

THE SHE-CREATURE (1956)

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

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

Product Review: Raycon Earbuds

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

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

Alien Autopsy: Fact or Fiction?

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

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

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

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

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

Blood Capsule #240

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

THE DRILLER KILLER (1979)

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

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

Mortis in WWE?

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

Blood Capsule #239

THE KINDRED (1987)

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

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

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

Taken from the bonkers UK poster.

Blood Capsule #238

STOPMOTION (2023)

I'm a fan of stop-motion animation.  I want to get that out of the way because I'm about to disparage this film.  We're not talking relentless butchery (as the half-hearted rating can attest), but I was definitely disappointed.  The storyline makes clever use of the tried-and-true special effects technique.  A stop-motion artist named Ella is knee-deep in the production of her mother's film.  When Mom is sidelined with dour health issues, Ella is faced with "demons" that threaten to level her mental faculties.  I'm using quotation marks out of selective necessity.  The villain(s) is hard to describe, and truth be told, you probably shouldn't read any reviews of Stopmotion before you press play.  As the running time progresses, the film reveals itself to be a challenge.  To be specific, it reveals itself to be the one kind of horror that I've always struggled to decipher and/or comprehend.  What kind is that?  Arthouse horror.  I shivered just typing the words.

Writer/director Robert Morgan submerges his characters in metaphors, both visual and contextual.  Some are oblique.  Others are more direct.  All of them facilitate painting a narrative that prioritizes creepy imagery over cogent storytelling.  And that's fine if you're in the mood for something offbeat and pretentious.  Those adjectives may carry negative connotations, but I don't want to ridicule Stopmotion for not catering to my tastes.  There are cool moments.  I found Caoilinn Springall's performance as the nameless neighbor to be chilling.  Unfortunately, my mind kept asking questions that were never going to be answered.  Like, how does Ella support herself?  Where are the little girl's parents, and how is it seemingly so easy for her to bulldoze her way through Ella's social circles?  Ultimately, half of this review is going to be meaningless if you haven't seen Stopmotion.  So either check it out on Shudder or...um, stop reading.

Blood Capsule #237

ZOLTAN: HOUND OF DRACULA (1977)

I'm a dog person.  I don't know if that made it easier for me to appreciate this film.  Of course, I wanted to play fetch with Zoltan and give him plenty of cuddles.  The viewer isn't supposed to warm up to the damned Doberman, but it's not my fault that the dog looks cute with vampire fangs.  If you're a dog person, I'm sure you can relate.  This is a pure-bred b-movie of the highest caliber.  A matter-of-fact prologue sets the tone as Communist soldiers inadvertently exhume the remains of one Count Dracula.  They subsequently disturb the caskets of his two servants, the skeletal Veidt and his emotional support animal of sorts.  We follow them as they track down Dracula's last living relative.  Our protagonists - a very vanilla family - have pets of their own.  I'll go ahead and praise the non-human cast members.  I suppose I should praise their trainers, but I have a weakness for German Shepherds.

Obviously, this is a silly flick.  It's worth mentioning, however, that it takes itself rather seriously.  There are copious shots of Zoltan piercing the necks of other canines, and director Albert Band frames them in such a way that they could have been death sequences involving regular people.  You're only going to get that kind of pokerfaced absurdity from the 70's.  On the acting front, Michael Pataki is grounded as Mr. Drake.  Get it?  Don't roll your eyes.  José Ferrer plays Zoltan's equivalent of Dr. Van Helsing with authority.  Try as they might, the flesh-colored thespians are not as compelling as their furry counterparts.  Screenwriter Frank Ray Perilli also wrote Laserblast.  Make of that what you will.  For the record, Zoltan: Hound of Dracula (a.k.a. Dracula's Dog) is leagues above Laserblast.  Recommended to fans of The Pack, Man's Best Friend, and parvo.

NOTE: I was set on 3.5 Z'Dars until the closing frames.  I won't spoil anything, but suffice to say, we were cheated out of a sequel.

Blood Capsule #236

WITCHBOARD 2: THE DEVIL'S DOORWAY (1993)

This one just missed my cutoff for Random Sequel Month.  It was in the running for three main reasons.  1) I dig 1986's Witchboard.  2) I dig director Kevin Tenney.  3) I dig Ami Dolenz.  It should come as no surprise that I dug Witchboard 2.  While it's an in-name-only sequel, it could be argued that it outpaces the original.  To be honest, it's a toss-up.  The plots are fairly similar.  After breaking up with her possessive boyfriend, Paige moves into a cavernous loft apartment.  She finds a Ouija board in the closet, and because this is a horror treat, she decides to put hand to planchette faster than you can say "Here I Go Again."  Wrong actress, I know, but I'm contractually obligated to make a Whitesnake joke in this review.  In any event, it seems that the former tenant of her living quarters was murdered.  Is a disturbed spirit trying to communicate with Paige?

In the distant future, scholars will anatomize Ami Dolenz's filmography.  She was the perfect final girl.  Hell, she made Pumpkinhead II: Blood Wings watchable.  Aside from Ticks, The Devil's Doorway might be the best production to utilize her talents.  This isn't groundbreaking cinema, but it's polished enough to stand out from the pack.  The pace is spry, the camera is kinetic, and hey, we even get a car chase toward the finale.  Witchboard III: The Possession was churned out in 1995.  I've seen the trailer, and if it's okay with you, I think I'll pass.  No Tenney, no dice.  Random trivia!  The apartment in the film was later used as Paddy's Pub in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.  More random trivia!  David Coverdale was born in 1908 in the far reaches of the galaxy.

Blood Capsule #235

FOREVER EVIL (1987)

This will be a hard movie to describe.  I'm up to the challenge, but forgive me if I sound...conflicted?  I don't know, man.  Parts of Forever Evil are interminably boring, yet other parts recall the resourceful horrors of The Evil Dead.  Of course, there is a caveat.  It doesn't hold a candle to The Evil Dead, nor does it possess the wax required to fashion such a candle.  Aside from sharing similarly miserly budgets, the two films have comparable plots.  Friends gather at an isolated cabin to play cards and discuss high-tech inventions (just roll with it).  It doesn't take long - like, at all - before one of the girls is gutted in the shower.  She was pregnant, but the fetus is missing.  Other characters turn up dead, one by hanging and one by off-camera methods.  The killer?  Well, how about a Lovecraftian god?  I definitely appreciated the film's cosmic bent.

Forever Evil was shot on 16mm, which looks glorious.  Again, there are moments that flirt with brilliance.  The surrogate villain is a ridiculously rotting zombie, and the film just stops at one point so that our baddie can pull out his own eyeball.  That.  I needed more of that.  Regrettably, the exposition is abound with pages upon pages of sardonic dialogue.  The talking never seems to end.  I wouldn't mind the, shall we say, patient pacing (the acting is actually decent), but the running time is...go ahead, guess.  Would you believe 106 minutes?  And the director's cut is even longer!  Somehow, I came away from this b-lark with a dopey smile on my face.  When it goes, it goes hard.  If I were Joe Bob Briggs (oh, let me pretend), the drive-in totals would include occult frippery, demonic baby fu, and gratuitous pyrotechnics.  3.5 Z'Dars.  Joe Bob says...er, Dom says check it out.

Blood Capsule #234

This review - along with nearly 200 others - can be found in my book.  Buy it HERE!

LATE NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL (2024)

If you have your finger on the pulse of modern horror, you have no doubt heard of Late Night with the Devil.  Part "found footage" and part mockumentary, it plays like an episode of a syndicated talk show.  Host Jack Delroy is in a rut.  After losing his wife to cancer, he finds himself in a ratings battle against the likes of Johnny Carson.  Jockeying for position and desperate to draw viewers, he unspools a Halloween special.  That's what we get to see, and we are told that the footage may shock us into oblivion.  Aside from behind-the-scenes stuff, the conceit of the film is to show us an ordinary block of network programming.  High-concept scares are a mixed bag, but Late Night feels like the genuine article.  For the most part.

Before I go too much further, I will say that the similarly-themed WNUF Halloween Special comes across as more authentic, and thus, more effective.  Directors Colin and Cameron Cairnes clearly did their homework, though.  This is a fresh spin on legerdemain and demonic possession.  Well-timed commercial breaks assist in keeping the pace afloat.  If I had to single out a drawback (and I don't have to, but roll with me), the character of Jack isn't exactly sympathetic.  Your protagonist can be flawed to a point, but in my estimation, the script goes a bit too far in fudging the lens, so to speak.  However, it ends with a bang.  I can appreciate the fact that Late Night with the Devil isn't afraid to get messy.  Recommended to fans of opening monologues and stomach worms.

Blood Capsule #233

This review - along with nearly 200 others - can be found in my book.  Buy it HERE!

STRANDED (1987)

As much as I didn't want to follow a running theme, a certain leitmotif seems to have materialized.  Call it a keynote.  Time and time again, I'm encountering random, off-the-wall films that failed to find footing with mainstream audiences.  Stranded is one such title.  I've never heard anyone make even a passing reference to this sci-fi sleeper.  A problem could be the presentation, as it was relegated to a "regional release" by New Line.  Still, it has the bells and whistles of a studio picture.  The narrative develops in real-time.  A woman and her bratty, bumptious granddaughter are visited by extraterrestrials on an otherwise ordinary weeknight.  I suppose it could have happened on a Saturday.  It doesn't matter!

The aliens are docile and benevolent.  They are seeking refuge, however, from a steely assassin who cannot be described as docile or benevolent.  Cops get involved, which only complicates matters.  Ill-tempered rednecks also get involved, but I don't want to reveal too much of the plot.  Stranded is wholly engrossing.  I dug the interstellar players, especially the automaton guard.  The special effects department is stately, but it doesn't showboat.  What I mean is that the visuals never supersede the storytelling.  An honorable mention goes out to Flea, of all people.  Yes, the bassist for the Red Hot Chili Peppers appears as Jester, the scamp of the alien lot.  If you're lucky enough to spot Stranded on VHS, wrest it from the shelf posthaste.  Because you can't have my copy.

Blood Capsule #232

This review - along with nearly 200 others - can be found in my book.  Buy it HERE!

MATTHEW BLACKHEART: MONSTER SMASHER (2002)

I'm assuming that this flick sat on the shelf for a spell before landing on television (not sure what channel; I'm banking on Syfy).  It feels like a 90's holdover, and scenes shot in New York City are clearly pre-9/11.  So who is Matthew Blackheart?  He's a unique superhero with the backstory of Captain America and the personality of Bruce Campbell.  The bulk of the film is relayed through flashbacks.  In the 1940's, Blackheart was created in a laboratory for the express purpose of locking horns with Nazis.  Of course, something goes wrong, and our valorous hero becomes cryogenically frozen until the present day.  The present day is 1999, which supports my "shelf" theory.  Anyway, the monsters being smashed are called Bogeys.  Some are vampires; some are were-trolls.  All of them are controlled by the nefarious Mortas and his subservient dwarf.

That's a lot to take in, huh?  Director Erik Canuel spoonfeeds the exposition to us, so everything is easy to follow.  An honorable mention goes out to Robert Bogue.  He plays Blackheart with an equitable mix of pathos and absurdity.  Comparisons to Ash are justified, but things never get too silly.  Monster Smasher's strength lies in its special effects.  I'm surprised that it was claimed by the hazy hands of obscurity.  The DVD is long out of print, but it's not impossible to find.  Recommended to fans of Darkman, Brian Yuzna's Faust (hey, it's relevant), and comic book tie-ins.  As an added note, I doubt very seriously that a Blackheart comic was ever commissioned, but I would love to be proven wrong.

Blood Capsule #231

This review - along with nearly 200 others - can be found in my book.  Buy it HERE!

DNA (1996)

When I was 13 years of age, I passed by the box for this flick countless times.  I never did rent it.  How could I have known that it belonged to a stratum of cheese that I would prize as an adult?  Of course, I'm speaking of the mid-level creature feature.  Too big to be shot on video, but too small to be pieced together with any rhyme or reason.  This stuff is manna from heaven.  According to The Bible, manna tasted like honey.  Admittedly, Winnie the Pooh would probably pass on DNA, so I think any canonical comparisons end there.  The storyline finds a scientist (Mark Dacascos a.k.a. bush-league Brandon Lee) on the wrong end of a bizarre double-cross.  An older, madder scientist (Jurgen Prochnow of all people) steals his research on enzymes in a bid to revive the fossilized remains of a mythical creature in the jungles of Borneo.  Yes, enzymes.  It's all very scientific.

First things first.  Our main character is a bit of a dick.  At one point, he beheads a perfectly chill anaconda in a show of chivalry.  Drop the "tough guy" act, man.  That snake was minding its own business.  Anyway, DNA is anemic.  Scratch that; it's virtually bloodless!  That would explain the videotape's pallid complexion.  Acts two and three are patterned after Predator.  So much so, in fact, that I swear I saw the monster blush.  We even get a shot of our intrepid hero diving into boggy waters with his alien assailant following close behind.  I don't know why I'm mentioning this, but the sparse CGI isn't nearly as pathetic as you would expect.  That didn't keep me from checking my watch on more than one occasion.  DNA should be labeled "DNR."  Cue the laugh track.