Chinese Robot Fuckers

What's with all of the nonsensical Asian gibberish that I've been receiving lately in the form of comments? Does anyone know how I can put a stop to it?

WARBEAST - KRUSH THE ENEMY

Warbeast are signed to Phil Anselmo's Housecore Records. They are a Texas thrash band featuring ex-members of Rigor Mortis and Gammacide. These guys are veterans of the underground scene, and it shows on Krush the Enemy, an intense agglomeration of tightly wound tunes that recall the flesh-stripping speed of Slayer and the monstrous groove of Pantera. This will sound audacious, but in my eyes, this record will be heralded as a classic in ten years. It's that good. Is it original? Not terribly, but when music is this satisfying, it doesn't need to be unique of experimental.

Are you a fan of Sadus? Demolition Hammer? What about Exhorder? If so, you'll have a field day with Krush the Enemy. There is nothing modern about it thanks, in part, to Phil Anselmo's organic production. You won't find any triggered drums or cut-and-paste leads here. I doubt very strongly that they even used a computer to track anything. Editing? What's that? The songs themselves teeter between "old school" sensibilities and "new school" sensibilities. Thick riffs are draped over a variety of tempos. Warbeast avoids that feeling of sameness you hear on most thrash albums. Every time that I've popped this disc in, I've listened to it straight through without skipping over the filler (because there is no filler).

In all honesty, this band sounds more like Slayer than anyone else. Imagine if Kerry King had an imagination and played decent solos. That's essentially Warbeast in a nutshell. If you're a true metalhead, buy this sucker pronto!

Geek Out #1

Have you ever seen something that is so cool, so awesome, so badass, so fucking gnarly, that you geek out to the extreme and you realize why you're single? And alone? And blogging? And running out of reasons to wake up in the morning? Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. This column will highlight things that transcend primitive adjectives like "cool" and "awesome." There isn't a word to describe these things. I have to warn you, though. As the name of this column suggests, viewing the video below may cause violent geek-outs. Make sure you are alone. Lock the door. Handcuff yourself to your chair just to be on the safe side. It's time to GEEK OUT! That's a sort of tagline I came up with. I guess it's not too bad. I don't know.

Never Sleep Again

If you're like me, you know almost everything there is to know about the Elm Street franchise. Freddy is my favorite villain of all time. He gave me countless nightmares as a child, and ever since I became a rabid horror junkie, I made it my mission in life to read as much as I could about the crispy one. Interviews, Fangoria articles, wikipedia entries...I absorbed enough knowledge to make an Elm Street documentary. Y'know, like this one. That's why Never Sleep Again felt a little pointless to me. Every serious horror fan knows most of this stuff. No, not all of it, but at least 75% of it.

In this instance, 75% accounts for three hours of material. On the upside, people can point to Never Sleep Again as being the definitive Elm Street documentary. It certainly uses all four hours to cram as much stuff into your head as possible. I'm not saying that it's poorly made. Hell, it's awesome. I just had a hard time staying plugged in after the halfway point. I did appreciate how they handled some of the goofier sequels like Freddy's Revenge and Freddy's Dead (both of which are underrated, in my opinion). Addressing the former's homoerotic overtones was a wise move, as the topic lightened up the proceedings. Man, Mark Patton looks like a completely different person, as does the "hall monitor" girl.

The tidbits of minutiae that I was not privy to were quite interesting. I love how the teenage cast members of Dream Warriors went to Robert Englund for advice on how to woo Patricia Arquette. I would have done the same thing. What you get out of Never Sleep Again will depend on whether or not you're a willing participant. Personally, I wasn't willing to sit through four hours of anecdotes that I was already familiar with, and technically, I didn't. I fell asleep towards the end. No rating because I don't feel objective about this one.

Random Reviews: Phase II

From the moment I created this blog to the time of my surgery, Random Reviews popped and crackled like strips of bacon resting on the surface of the sun. Since then, everything has died down. The recovery process has been unbearable at times. It now seems that the surgery itself was ineffective. It was a complete waste of time. Over the past few months, I feel like I've let down my readers. I am now faced with the challenge of building this blog back up. It will be a little different than it was before. I may even change the name to accommodate some of the new ideas I have. I won't be able to update it every single day. In retrospect, I'm not sure how I was able to update it so much before.

Anyway, my first new review since the surgery will be posted tomorrow. I said this on the last update, but it bears repeating...I've slacked off long enough!

An Announcement Announcement

A big announcement will be made soon. I have slacked off long enough. Stay tuned!

R.I.P.

Yesterday was the saddest day in metal since the brutal murder of Dimebag. Ronnie James Dio lost his battle with stomach cancer at 67 years of age. The term "metal god" is thrown around a lot in the metal community, but Dio may have been the definitive METAL GOD. He was there when this shit was invented. Plus, he was known for being one of the classiest guys in metal. I didn't get into Dio-related stuff until a year ago, but it didn't take me long to realize that he was one of the best singers on the planet. If you don't own Black Sabbath's Heaven and Hell, you are not metal. It's that simple. I can understand not owning every single record that Dio appeared on because he appeared on 1,734 records (and they're ALL worth listening to), but Heaven and Hell is a must.

On a lighthearted note, here's a list of the compact discs/cassette tapes I've been playing lately...

Cirith Ungol-King of the Dead
Heart-Dog and Butterfly
Arsis-Starve For the Devil
Immolation-Majesty and Decay
Deftones-Diamond Eyes
Trouble-Psalm 9
Grave-Soulless
Assjack-Assjack

Insert Title Here

This whole resurrection process is taking WAY longer than expected. By the time I get on my computer, I'm in too much pain to think straight. I've thought about changing this blog's format to make it easier for me to update. Maybe instead of reviews, I could just post my random thoughts on random subjects. For instance, I'm debating whether or not to see the Elm Street remake. It sounds fucking atrocious. Freddy played an integral role in my childhood, so it infuriates me to no end to see Michael Bay bastardize him. I know that I shouldn't judge a film before seeing it, but in this case, it's awfully tempting.

I'll stew on the blog matter. I'm not really sure what to do.

Peter Steele R.I.P.

Man, this is a huge blow to the hard rock/metal world. Steele was a truly unique individual whose lyrics reminded us not to take ourselves too seriously. His pained bellows also gave confused, frustrated listeners a gloomy body of work to relate to. He was much, much more than a tall bassist with a big dick. If you don't know who I'm talking about, go listen to Type O Negative right now.

I think I'll mark my return to writing random reviews by covering a couple of TON records. Watch this space.

I'm back!

Yes, I have returned. This is the first time I've been able to use my computer in over a month. I've been bedridden since the surgery, but today, I'm in my wheelchair. There is still some discomfort, but it's tolerable. My incision is very nearly healed. It was trying to open itself for awhile, but it seems to be heading in the right direction. I should go over a few things. It's time for a bulleted list!

• THANK YOU for all of the well wishes that I've received. I can't believe that people are still visiting this blog. Your support means so much to me.
• Even though I'm back, I'm not in "review-writing" mode just yet. Obviously, I'll keep you in the loop. It shouldn't be TOO much longer, but I have a lot of catching up to do.
• Remember the Get Well Soon Giveaway? Well, I need Carl, Emme, and Franco to send me their addresses. Congrats! I'm confident that you'll love your uber-cool prizes.
• I'll be visiting the blogs of my fellow bloggers over the next few days. I can't wait to see what everyone has been up to.

That about covers it. Once I've settled into my old routine, RR will be running smoother than the delicate nether-regions of a baby Stegosaurus.

I leave you with an extremely random VHS cover.

Update: Based on the Film "Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire"

Hey, everyone. This is A.J. Hakari, a friend of our gracious host Dom, who, as he's instructed me to write, is a beast not yet ready to rise again. His surgery was a success, but numerous complications have made recovery longer than expected. Due to nerve damage suffered during surgery, he is currently bedridden and cannot sit in his electric wheelchair for long without experiencing great pain. Thus, he hasn't been able to get on a computer and isn't sure when he will. But he does thank everyone who submitted contest entries, and he'll have me announce a winner very likely in the next week or so. Another update will follow from me if Dom isn't able to log on in the next couple of weeks. Dom thanks you all for your patience and hopes his female readers will leave messages of pity and faux flirtations.

-A.J. Hakari

Prepare Yourselves

The beast is poised to rise from his grave...

Hiatus

Okay, folks...I'm off! Thanks for all of the well wishes. I'll try to post an update once I've returned home. Random Reviews will be back in business in a couple of weeks. It will be better than ever!

It Came From Beneath the Sea

(mini-review)

I've officially seen all of the Harryhausen films that I care to see. It Came From Beneath the Sea was the last one on my list. I've been putting it off because I've never been particularly enthused by "giant octopus" movies. The main reason why I'm not razzle-dazzled by oversized cephalopods can be summed up in two words - The Beast. Yes, I'm talking about the made-for-TV Peter Benchley adaptation. It bored me senseless as a child, and ever since, I've associated octopi with humdrum tedium. But The Beast didn't utilize stop-motion effects courtesy of Ray Harryhausen, now did it?

This flick does, although we don't get to see the full-blown creature until the last ten minutes. The build-up is more gratifying than I was expecting. We spend most of the first act in a claustrophobic environment with the captain of a submarine as he tries to nose out the source of a disturbance on his sonar system. Before his crew can figure out what's happening, the sub is jostled by an unseen force. Of course, we later discover that the unseen force was a giant octopus, a colossal monster dog-paddling and breast-stroking its way through the Pacific. The "it" that comes from beneath the sea looks fantastic, and it interacts with all of the model sets with great celerity and pliability.

The second act drags a bit, but the pace is chiefly well-managed. I really liked Faith Domergue as the scientist hired to identify a hunk of octo-flesh. With the exception of one scene where her character screams her head off, she's written as a strong, independent heroine. You don't see that a lot in b-movies from the 50's. Overall, I would definitely recommend It Came From Beneath the Sea, but it doesn't compare to The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms or Jason and the Argonauts. Just saying.

Important Update

I've got one, maybe two more reviews to offer before I leave for my surgery. I was supposed to see The Wolfman tonight, but inclement weather is currently pissing on my parade. If I see it tomorrow, I may just scribble down a few thoughts on the film instead of writing a full-on review. After I recover from being torn open, I have cool things planned for RR. A new column perhaps? We'll see. Be sure to Enter the Get Well Soon Giveaway if you haven't already. I need some valentines, people!

Non-Horror Pick of the Week

The Spirit of the Beehive

(mini-review)

The Spirit of the Beehive is the kind of film that Guillermo del Toro would direct. Set during the Spanish Civil War, it follows a pair of sisters (Ana and Isabel) who are bewildered by James Whale's Frankenstein. After the classic horror film is screened in the local town hall, the girls search for Dr. Frankenstein's creation. This is a coming-of-age story that uses a beekeeper and his apiary as allegories for Ana's curiosity and the stress that the war puts on her family. I was prepared to fall for this subtle abstraction, but it was too artsy for my liking.

Let me get one thing straight; I appreciate visual metaphors. I don't need everything spelled out for me, but Beehive is just too self-indulgent. The dialogue is sparse, the pace is stilted, and most of the imagery feels vague and random. Writer/director Victor Erise tries to entice the viewer with cryptic clues and eerie shadows, but I wasn't in the mood for a brain-teaser. The script doesn't have a hook. It's a damn shame because the premise is so compelling. Conceptually, this is a precursor to The Orphanage and The Devil's Backbone without the supernatural elements.

The Spirit of the Beehive contains one scene that could be construed as "horror-ish," but it's out of place. Maybe I'm dense, but I wasn't able to connect the dots with this flick's hazy story arc. All I got out of it was, "Frankenstein is a great movie." Speaking of which, Frankenstein is a great movie. Watch that instead.

The Super Bowl Post-Game Report

Okay, my Colts didn't win, but the Saints deserved to be the Super Bowl champs. Here's my little rundown of the big shindig.

THE GAME

There are a few reasons why the Colts weren't able to pick up their second Super Bowl victory in four years. For one, they were outcoached. The onside kick to start off the second half was a brilliant move, and yes, I would have said that if the Saints didn't recover. Indy's play calls didn't make sense. After an impressive defensive stand at the goal line with two minutes to go until halftime, the Colts ran the ball three times. What the hell? They had plenty of time to at least get the ball in field goal range, but it's almost as if they were trying to give the ball back to New Orleans.

Drew Brees was quite efficient. Props to Dwight Freeney for giving his all and netting a sack, but it wasn't enough. He was a non-factor in the second half. Also, Manning came across as tired. In my opinion, he (and several other choice starters) should have played four quarters in all sixteen games of the regular season. But that's a conversation for a different day. Basically, what I'm trying to say is...congrats, Who Dat Nation!

THE COMMERCIALS

Overall, the ads were pretty funny. I never thought I'd see Betty White play football in the mud. Where were all of the cool movie trailers? I counted one. Did I miss something?

THE HALFTIME SHOW

I'm not a fan of The Who, but I was hoping that they would win me over with their chops and their energy. They didn't. They have got to be the most boring classic rock band on the planet. I don't get the appeal. I know that the NFL has steered clear of younger acts ever since a certain "wardrobe malfunction," but they need to do something to spice up the halftime show.

That's all, folks. 'Twas a decent game. Last year's match-up was more exhilarating.

The Super Bowl Pre-Game Report

It's an hour from kickoff. The subs should be here any minute. I've got a fridge full of Yoo-Hoo and Dr. Pepper. This is going to be one hell of a PAR-TAY! Unfortunately, it's just me and the folks, which is kind of pathetic, BUT it will constitute as a "par-tay."

Tomorrow, I'll post my rundown of the night's events. I'll give my impressions of the commercials, the halftime show, and of course, the game itself. I'll also be posting another random review. Excited yet?

GO COLTS!

The Fly ('58)

If you don’t know what The Fly is about, grab a noose and just get it over with. If you’re not aware of the fact that The Fly is considered to be a sci-fi/horror classic, thrust your genitals into a lathe. The moral of the story here is that you should already know everything you need to know about The Fly. So why am I reviewing it? Because I want to! And also because I want uninitiated horror abecedarians to stay alive and to keep their genitals. While I prefer David Cronenberg’s centroidal remake, genre hounds the world over have no business ignoring its antecessor. The Fly was a smash upon its release, and I can only imagine what it was like viewing this milepost shocker on the silver screen in 1958.

Vincent Price is on board, but don’t get too cozy with his star appeal. He’s a supporting player. In fact, he’s entirely absent from the second act. Price plays François Delambre, a modish upper-cruster whose brother, Andre, has locked himself in his laboratory for weeks on end. What could he be working on? You already know the answer to that question, but what you might not know is that The Fly’s chief plot details are relayed via a flashback. Andre’s fate is spoiled for us before we even get to the film’s midsection. I didn’t take kindly to this expository artifice. When you’re exposed to the climax before you reach the prefatory build-up, the build-up itself can be tedious. I didn’t want to know how the story ended. This is both a pro and a con. Thankfully, I was attached to the characters, and I actually wanted them to meet a favorable resolution. I rarely pine for rainbows and sunflowers, so for the cast to beslaver me was quite an accomplishment.

Patricia Owens is the very definition of charming as Helene, Andre’s fretful wife. She is the resinous epoxy that holds this picture together. Plus, I have a thing for redheads, so there you go. David Hedison gives a stiff performance as the titular musca domestica (that’s “housefly” for those of you playing at home). His delivery is awkward at times, but I still warmed up to him. Considering that Hedison only has 20-30 minutes of screen time as a full-blown human, that’s rather impressive. Naturally, Vincent Price is...well, he’s Vincent Price! His acting is...well, he’s Vincent Price! He was always “on.” Come to think of it, I don’t know of any spiritless performances of his. If he didn’t give 104.6%, it was more than likely an imposter.

Unlike its direct sequel, The Fly was shot in color. Director Kurt Neumann, who left us one month after the film’s premiere, utilizes the polychrome spectrum to its full potential. The imagery is vivid, especially during the “teleportation” sequences. Some may cluck at the creature design, but I found the monstrous make-up to be adequate. It’s kept under a cloth for the most part, so even if you impute your jaded sensibilities to the outdated special effects, it shouldn’t variegate the viewing experience. Of course, anything will look crude after witnessing Cronenberg’s twisted vision of The Fly. This flick doesn’t feature Jeff Goldblum vomiting onto a pastry, but it does flaunt sound acting, engaging characters, and a timeless parting shot. Oh, dear. I can’t think of a way to cap off this review. Help me...help me...help me!!!!!!!!!!