Laserdiscs: THE NEXT BIG THING!

No, I don't own Insidious on Laserdisc. I'll get to James Wan's "haunted house" thriller in a minute. First, I want to let everyone know that I have a stack of Laserdiscs for sale. If you're interested in buying one (or two or all of them), drop me an e-mail. My e-mail address is located in the upper right-hand corner of every page. I thought I'd give my readership the first crack at these goodies before I list them on eBay. I haven't priced them yet, so we'll just work something out. Obviously, certain titles are worth more than others. They are all in good condition. I would categorize them as "like new."

Here is what I have...

The English Patient
The X-Files (episodes "Colony" and "End Game")
Con-Air
Men in Black
Evita
Bean
Whore
Breakdown
Fatal Instinct
The Edge
Unstrung Heroes
The Saint
The Mirror Has Two Faces
Powder
Spawn
The Lost World ('97)
Losing Isaiah
Primal Fear
One Fine Day
Ransom
GoldenEye
Speed 2: Cruise Control
Dante's Peak

As for Insidious, I rented it last night...on Blu-ray! Yeah, that's right. I don't plan on reviewing it, but I will say that I liked it quite a bit. James Wan rocks the party that rocks the party. The imagery was stylish, the demons/ghosts were uber-creepy and the cast was dependable. There were a few cliches that rubbed me the wrong way (does every monster need an ironic theme song?), but all in all, Insidious clicked as a modern day Poltergeist.

Raw review tomorrow. Be there.

Album Cover of the Week

Creepshow

Creepshow is my second favorite film of all time. It's strange to think that in the ten years that I've spent as a "professional" horror critic, I have never touched this timeless anthology. Why, you ask? For the longest time, I struggled with the prospect of tackling such a daunting endeavor. What was I going to say about Creepshow that thousands of horror fans haven't already said? I don't have to go very far to find an articulate take on the subject. Fellow freelancer Jeff Allard scrawled out an eloquent piece for his blog that mirrors my opinions of the film. You can read it by clicking HERE. Don't linger, though. You'll realize that his blog is better than mine, and I wouldn't want that.

All I can do is offer my point of view. Normally, I wouldn't bother discussing a film that has been discussed to death, but Creepshow isn't just any film. It's a film that I grew up with. I can recite the dialogue on cue. I feel like I owe it to George Romero and Stephen King to put my stamp on their love letter to EC Comics. Speaking of which, I wanted to take a moment to comment on the effect that Creepshow had on the relationship between movies and comic books. Nowadays, it's commonplace to frame a shot in such a way that it resembles a comic book panel, but in 1982, that was a fresh, original concept.


Theater patrons are jaded, and it's not just the mainstream moviegoers. When it comes to taking the malleability of filmmaking for granted, nerds are as guilty as anyone else. Sometimes, I get the impression that people think that movies like Sin City always existed. They didn't. Hell, 1972's Tales From the Crypt didn't even look like a comic book. From a technical standpoint, I'm inclined to believe that this was Romero's finest hour as a director. Night of the Living Dead had a more profound impact on society, but if you do your research, you'll discover that a lot of the genius behind the stark zombie epic was accidental.

Now that I've made a multitude of enemies, I'll masticate Creepshow piece by piece.

Prologue/Epilogue ~ The jack-o-lantern in the window sets the mood. It's obvious from the get-go that this will be a campy, fun-loving genre dish. How cool is that bedroom? I was a kid when I first watched Creepshow, so I could relate to Billy (as portrayed by Joe King, son of Stephen). In retrospect, I was Billy! Dig the devilish ending.


Father's Day ~ Without a doubt, one of the most badass zombies ever committed to celluloid. I adore how this vignette consigns itself to a standard slasher formula. That may sound negative, but this segment manages to outshine most 90-minute "body count" flicks in a scant 20 minutes. Is it weird that I hum "Don't Let Go" to myself on occasion? It is? Oh.

The Lonesome Death of Jordy Verrill ~ King's dopey performance as the titular clodhopper hits the spot. He isn't a master thespian, but this character couldn't have been brought to life by a master thespian. Exceedingly entertaining and infinitely quotable.

Something to Tide You Over ~ I maintain that Leslie Nielson is an underrated actor. The proof? His turn as a rancorous landlord in this suspenseful tale of vengeance. Ted Danson is surprisingly sharp as the protagonist. This was the perfect follow-up to the oddball "Jordy Verrill," as it's a sobering punch to the gut. I can hold my breath for 20 seconds, give or take!!! Wait, that's not how the line goes.

The Crate ~ Adrienne fucking Barbeau. Need I say more? Amazing creature effects, steady pacing and a gratifying climax. Fluffy is God.

They're Creeping Up on You ~ My jaw dropped when I first saw this creepy-crawly spine-chiller. Two decades later, it's still effective. Upson Pratt is one of my favorite movie characters of all time. He enjoys being a prick. So do I!

I haven't mentioned the score, the lighting, the animation, the trivial stuff that makes me smile (listen closely for Vince McMahon's cameo), the sequels...I could write a novel, but I'm exhausted. For the record, Creepshow 2 is decent. Creepshow 3 can rot in Hell.

ohboyohboyohboy

So I took yesterday off. Shocking, I know, but my next review required a little pre-production. It should be up (late) tonight. Stay tuned!

Matches That Time Forgot #15

This episode of Matches That Time Forgot was shot on location in Memphis, TN. It's 1995 (just go with it), and I'm visiting Jerry Lawler's little wrestling promotion that could. I had the opportunity to sit down with The King and ask him a few questions.

Dom Coccaro: Hey, Jerry. Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to grant this interview.

Jerry Lawler: Yeah, whatever. Billy! Hey, Billy! Tell Brian to stall. Maybe he can cut a long promo or something.

DC: Brian? Are you referring to your son, Brian Christopher?

JL: Yeah. Sometimes, I'll have him work the crowd while I'm doing press here in the back. That kid is a natural on the mic. It won't be long before McMahon picks up on him.

DC: Do you think he has a future in the WWF?

JL: Are you kidding? Of course. He takes after his old man. To be honest with you, Brian is more talented than half of the guys that McMahon has signed in the past six months. It's ridiculous. Just the other day, he showed me this tryout match. Some green kid named Paul something. I think they're gonna give him a blue blood gimmick, a standard heel, but I keep saying, "Vince, Brian has every tool that he could possibly need to get over." It's like talking to a brick wall.

DC: What's next on tonight's card?

JL: Oh, a tag match between PG-13 and The Rock and Roll Express. I have to run out soon for the finish.

DC: PG-13, didn't they have a brief run in the WWF?

JL: Yeah, they had a title match against The Smoking Gunns.

DC: Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't one of the guys in PG-13 a Dundee?

JL: Yeah, Wolfie D. is Jamie, son of Bill, Dundee. The other guy is J.C. Ice. It's a rapper gimmick. They have dominated the USWA tag division for awhile now.

DC: I understand that USWA and SMW are swapping talents. Do you see The Rock and Roll Express retiring anytime soon?

JL: Absolutely. When Ricky Morton takes his shirt off, it's like staring into The Cryptkeeper's asshole. They can still go, God bless 'em, but there isn't much gas left in the tank.

DC: What about yourself? Have you considered hanging up your boots?

JL: Oh, sure. Fifteen years from now, I'll be a dilapidated geezer.

DC: But doesn't it bother you that you have never held the WWF title? I mean, you've never even competed at Wrestlemania.

JL: That shit doesn't matter to me. I will bow out gracefully. I'm more interested in mentoring the up-and-comers. Like Isaac Yankem, the dentist they have me paired with at the Federation. Now that's a character with staying power.

Funland

Technically, Funland isn't a horror film, but I decided to review it because it will pique the interest of horror fans. I mean, the DVD cover says it all. I'm inclined to sue the crack team of sitcom writers responsible for the script. This is a classic case of false advertising. I'll refrain from summoning these swindlers to court, though. For one, I'm not the litigious type, and at the end of the day, Funland isn't too shabby. I wouldn't call it a must-see cult oddity, but it entertained me on an insipid Wednesday afternoon.

David Lander plays Bruce Burger, a menial clown who serves as the family-friendly mouthpiece for an amusement park. Bruce is unstable. He talks to a puppet, he breaks down in high-pressure situations and he doesn't answer to his birth name. But he means well, which is enough for the altruistic owner of the park. Mr. Burger is allowed to keep his job until the business is bought out by crooked members of a crime syndicate. This sends our greasepainted protagonist spiraling into a deep depression. He is forced to move into a derelict wax museum where he commiserates with ghosts and plots to sabotage his old stomping grounds.

I know what you're thinking. "Dom, how could this not be a horror film?" Easy! It's a comedy, albeit a morbid one. I wasn't expecting to laugh at any of the jokes, but I did. Funland has a warped, wayward sense of humor. Now, I don't want to give the impression that it will leave you in hysterics. There was never a point where I was gasping for air and reaching for a box of tissues, but most of the absurdity on display nestled my funny bone. The third act is actually disturbing. While this rickety rollercoaster refuses to become a full-blown scare pic, it does teeter on the edge of terror.

Could Funland go toe-to-toe with some of the more popular "killer clown" romps? No. No, it could not. If you want gore, suspense, atmosphere...well, let me put it this way. If you want a horror show, don't even flirt with the notion of renting Funland. It's a serviceable black comedy. I don't regret watching it. Hey, I dug Squiggy the Clown (I knew I recognized Lander from somewhere), but this isn't a movie that I'll remember down the line. Visually, it's not particularly indelible. I'll say this much; if the MTV Movie Awards existed in 1987 and had a category for Best Freestyle Rap in a Cafeteria Scene, Funland would have cleaned house.

Parts Unknown #75: Raw

I know I said that I would skip this week's episode of Raw, but...I lied. Well, I didn't lie per se. I reserve the right to change my mind without notice. What good are rights if you don't exercise them?

PROS

~ Brand unification? It's about fucking time, even if it's just for the foreseeable future. The only drawback is the fact that the midcard will get lost in the shuffle. I would advise thinning the herd. Talents such as Zack Ryder, The Uso's, Yoshi Tatsu and Drew McIntyre are imperceptibly mismanaged as it is. Will they survive a seditious stretch of upheaval?

~ The barn-burner between Randy Orton and Dolph Ziggler. Skeptics will claim that the United States Champion carried this match, but frankly, The Viper has been on a roll lately. I spent the bulk of 2010 voicing my disdain for Orton's hackneyed gimmick. While his character has remained considerably drab (sporadic freakouts notwithstanding), he has upped the ante where it counts - in the ring. His timing is impeccable. In defiance of a clean loss, Ziggler came out of this bout looking just as strong as his opponent.

~ The Miz and CM Punk worked well together. I don't have anything to add. Sweet powerbomb, Kevin.

~ Air Boom! I dig it. They need more competition, though. And matching tights. They need matching tights.

~ Punk versus Triple H, huh? I'm hearing groans from the IWC (if you're not up on fanboy rigmarole, that stands for "Internet Wrestling Community"), but this surprise announcement doesn't bother me. Punk/Nash was never going to be a slobberknocker for the ages, and besides, what is the point of delaying the inevitable?

CONS

~ The main event. I'm sure that it was a decent tag match, but I didn't bother watching it. Lazy filler.

~ Why are The Bella Twins on television? They are not relevant, they are not in contention and most importantly, they are not The Diva's of Doom! I'm not exaggerating when I say that they are the worst female "wrestlers" that I have been exposed to in the last five years. I would rank them below the worm-infested husk of Sensational Sherri.

~ Why are Ziggler and Swagger feuding? They're both heels. The crowd doesn't give a shit.

In other news, R-Truth and John Morrison battled on Superstars. Phooey.

Panels From Beyond the Grave #6

BAT-THING (#1, June 1997)

In 1996, DC and Marvel collaborated on a series of one-shot titles under the banner of Amalgam Comics. Popular superheroes from both universes were joined at the hip to create new characters. For example, Batman was fused with Wolverine to beget Dark Claw. Flash and Ghost Rider coalesced to breathe life into the generic, yet amusing Speed Demon. Finally, Man-Bat and Man-Thing collided to hatch Bat-Thing, the subject of this very review. I'm not terribly familiar with DC's Man-Bat, but I've always been a fan of Marvel's Man-Thing. I appreciate him as a pensive, erratic alternative to Swamp Thing.

It's a shame that this was a stand-alone comic. Out of all of the Amalgam amalgamations, Bat-Thing had the most potential to become a successful series. We are only given a teaspoon of exposition. Members of the mob are turning up dead in the foul streets of Gotham City. The heavies seem to be targeting Francie Sallis, the "widow" of Dr. Kirk Sallis. Kirk was a scientist who dabbled in genetic splicing. After experimenting on himself one too many times, he mutated into a bat...thing. Has he returned to harm his family or to protect them? I'll never tell!

The creature design is swell. It has a pulpy vibe to it, and there are several scenes that would have been right at home in a drive-in flick from the 50's (the dream sequence is wicked). I love the pale, spectral color palette. The moody atmosphere is accentuated by purples and greens that snag your collar and pull you into the Gotham haze. I realize that I have yet to write a negative piece for this column, but I can't help it. It's not my fault that Bat-Thing is a cool motherfucker. Likewise, it's not my fault that this is a sleek, tight debut that should have led to a string of issues where our nocturnal knight in clammy armor crossed paths with the finest villains that Gotham City has to offer.

Now, I had to chip half of a Savage Dragon off of the rating, but it wasn't easy. The dialogue is forced, and the script avails itself of every mob cliche in the known world. Be that as it may, this is a good place to start if you're thinking about raiding the Amalgam library. I'm going to conclude this review with a couple of random thoughts. A) Man-Thing (the movie) is mediocre. The last ten minutes rock, but the first eighty? Cripes, the SyFy Channel is an affront to humanity. 2) I need to revisit Swamp Thing (the movie). If I ever get my VCR up and running, that will be the first tape I watch. It's still shrinkwrapped!

Witchery - WITCHKRIEG

Now that's a fucking album cover! I have a diverse, all-inclusive taste in music. You could say that I have a sundry collection of compact discs (y'know, if you were a douchebag who liked to use fancy words). Hell, I was listening to Tori Amos a few hours ago, but sometimes, I need to listen to something evil. It's what I refer to as a "Satan fix." All metalheads need a "Satan fix" to get through the week. It placates our nerves, and it makes the daily grind of domiciliary burdens seem less...soul-crushing? By the way, don't call your mother a domiciliary burden. Trust me. She'll either be pissed or confused. Or both.

Oh, right. This is supposed to be an album review, isn't it? Witchery is a Swedish band featuring members of Arch Enemy, The Haunted and Opeth. Ex-Marduk frontman Legion handles vocal duties on Witchkrieg, but unfortunately, he purged himself from the line-up earlier this year (ex-Dark Funeral frontman Emperor Magus Caligula has since assumed the role of lead growler). Musically, these fuckers deliver a voltaic cannonade of blackened thrash. They have a unique sound. The only band that I can compare them to is God Dethroned, but even that is a cursory example.

I'll get to the songs in a minute. My favorite aspect of Witchkrieg is the bottom-heavy production. This is explosive stuff. I'm not sure if they played instruments in the studio or if they merely hurled an incendiary bomb at a microphone. The fact that the riffs were written with optimal brutality in mind doesn't hurt matters. Tempos vary, so this set never becomes monotonous. How could it? It runs for 34 minutes, which is a little too short for my liking. I popped it in when I started this review, and it's already on the second spin.

If you're looking to sample this scorching analect of kvltness, I recommend trying "Wearer of Wolf's Skin," "The God Who Fell From Earth," "The Reaver" and "From Dead to Worse" on for size. Witchkrieg is crawling with guest guitar solos, the best being Andy LaRocque's melodic flourish on "From Dead to Worse." Kerry King contributes atonal squeals to the title track. Honestly, he ruins it, but that's just my opinion (the most overrated guitarist in history...oops, did I type that out loud?). It's simple, really; if you dig extreme metal, you'll dig Witchery's Witchkrieg. Generally speaking, it will appease fans of God Dethroned, Kreator, Goatwhore and yeah, probably Slayer.

Album Cover of the Week

I'm bumping up the Album Cover of the Week. Reason being, there is currently a shard of calcium poking the walls of my bladder. I've had plenty of kidney stones before, so it's nothing that I can't handle. All the same, I don't feel like doing anything. Thankfully, the most painful phase is in my rearview mirror, and I should be back tomorrow with a music review.

Geek Out #28

Special thanks to Christian for this clip...Siskel and Ebert reviewed Xtro??? Why? How? What and where? This was a random, bizarre trilogy of sci-fi/horror cheapies. None of the films were related to each other, and yet, they were all directed by the same guy. Go figure. For the record, I dig each entry. Xtro is weird, Xtro 2: The Second Encounter is funny (it's probably the most blatant ripoff of Aliens on the planet) and Xtro 3: Watch the Skies is sleazy. Both Siskel and Ebert bash the original, but they make a few cogent points.

The Black Hole

Ugh. Where do I start? The Black Hole was Disney's answer to Star Wars and 2001: A Space Odyssey. It could have been an entertaining cheese dish, as most cash grabs tend to be amusing in their barefaced stabs at mimicry. But this film dares to be an intellectual meditation on mankind and our dogged impulse to harness science. It actually takes itself seriously. Director Gary Nelson should have approached this project with a b-movie mentality. Taken as a whole (pun may or may not be intended), The Black Hole is a schmaltzy, ostentatious void. It's a rarefaction, a vacuum. Holy shit...it's a black hole!

No, really. There is nothing to it. A "research vessel" finds a deserted ship suspended in gravity. Remember Event Horizon? Replace Sam Neill with a vacant Anthony Perkins, and voila! You have the exposition of The Black Hole. The rest of the synopsis is too convoluted for its own good, and if I was in charge of summarizing plots for the backs of DVD's, that is exactly what I would write. Suffice to say, it involves cheap robots and dozens of matte paintings. These days, major studios outsource when it comes to special effects, but Disney wanted this to be an in-house production.

A poor decision, that. In spite of a cushy budget, the majority of the practical bells and whistles look rancid. I could build a more streamlined robot in my garage. Seriously, whose tupperware did they poach to assemble these fucking things? The most convincing visual effect in the film is the effigy of Anthony Perkins that plays Dr. Alex Durant. I'm assuming that it was fashioned out of particle board. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that they hired Anthony Perkins himself to perform all of those dangerous stunts like staring at the camera and reciting dialogue with the fervor of a fax machine.

Maximilian Schell inhales the scenery as Dr. Reinhardt, our resident mad scientist. He is the only actor who seems to be enjoying himself. In all fairness, the climax is halfway stirring. Whatever momentum that was developed in the third act is ruthlessly demolished by an ambiguous ending that leaves the viewer scratching his/her head (and balls/clitoris). Did they actually believe that they were crafting high art? I wish I could recommend The Black Hole, but I can't. I just can't. Rent Event Horizon instead. Now that's a sentence I wasn't expecting to type today.

D'oh!

Yeah, I was going to post a movie review today, but it's not ready because I fell asleep during the movie. Negative review coming tomorrow.

Parts Unknown #74: Raw

I might skip Raw next week. I need a break. I don't need a break from writing, mind you. I just need a break from the WWE. I'm getting fed up with this. Back in the day, there was one roster, one pool of talent. It was a simpler time. Nowadays, there are too many guys who deserve a push, which means that the main event picture is a muddled imbroglio. Yes, that's a word, and it's fucking appropriate.

PROS

~ The Del Rio/JoMo match. It was given enough time, and even though we knew that The Prince of Parkour was destined for a loss, the nearfalls were well-executed.

~ Eve's redemption. She seems to work better with lousy wrestlers. That is one sick neckbreaker.

~ Punk's promos. What else is new?

~ I would have had Bourne/Kingston win the tag titles at Night of Champions, but whatever. This division is taking shape. I'm digging the friction between Otunga/McGillicutty and Jerry "The King" Lawler. A solid tag team division thrives on non-title feuds.

~ Miz and Truth...instant heel tag team. Their segment was all over the place, but that's the way it should be. It fits their characters.

CONS

~ Del Rio should not be the WWE Champion. John Cena should not be the number one contender. How can an angle deteriorate so quickly? Cena/Punk is the feud that everyone cares about. It's the feud that made Money in the Bank a resounding success. It's the feud that implicates the top wrestlers on Raw. Road Warrior Animal's annoying brother and a car crash conspiracy? Fuck you.

~ If Vickie Guerrero is slated to manage a stable of dastardly heels, then book it already. Stop fucking around.

~ Where the cunt is Drew McIntyre???

I'm not happy.

I was born a poor black child...

First of all, click HERE. I could put a permanent link on the right side of the page, but it would be easy to ignore and forget about. So you'll have to put up with me whoring myself out on occasion. I'm also using this update to remind everyone that I'll be posting my review of Creepshow early next week. I'm treating it like its special because it will probably be longer than my usual reviews.

You can expect to see a pair of music reviews in the near future. I can only keep those Abbath ratings under lock and key for brief increments of time before they run rampant. Don't tell anyone, but there is a warrant for their arrest in 36 states.

Album Cover of the Week

Spookies

I found it! What have I found? Quite possibly one of the best films of all time...Spookies. This is a crapshoot from 1986 with a sordid production history. The acting is inept, the effects are cheap and the plot is a heedless goulash of extraneous characters who die in radically random ways. The script has no sense of direction. To an outsider, Spookies is shit. And I'm not saying that outsiders are wrong; I'm saying that the three unfortunate auteurs who were hired to direct this rummage (yes, three) perfected the b-movie formula. The phrase "so bad, it's good" is popular amongst horror fans. Well, dear readers...Spookies is so bad, it's perfect.

Originally dubbed Twisted Souls, this project was abandoned during the editing stage. Genie Joseph (Auteur #3) was asked to sort through hours of footage and come up with a new movie. After deciding that she could only use 45 minutes of the aborted creepshow, she was given a modest budget to shoot another 45 minutes. The catch? She had to audition a new cast and crew. In other words, she would have to devise a new storyline to utilize the fresh faces, and it would have to mesh with the old storyline. The end result is Spookies, which is basically two different films stitched together.

Honestly, I thought the editing was clever, and while it was obvious that I was watching a patchwork, the shady roots of this haunted hayride didn't hinder my viewing experience. That's not why I love Spookies, though. Hmm, how can I explain this? Spookies is what I see when I close my eyes and envision the ultimate b-movie. If I were to make a braindead schlocktail, this is what it would look like. If you've read a decent amount of my reviews, you know that I "heart" monsters, right? Okay, Spookies is full (and I mean FULL) of monsters. Most of the miscreants on display don't fit into a category (e.g. vampires, werewolves, etc.). That's an added bonus, in my book.

The fun doesn't stop there. We get fog, a full moon, a graveyard and an eerie score to top things off. I know I said that this was the perfect b-movie, but when you're dealing with b-movies, perfection is flawed. The ending drags a bit. I'm not sure how an undead princess can elude hordes of zombies. But that's a trivial grievance. Spookies is about as perfect as a b-movie from the 80's can be. If you want to own a copy, you'll have to settle for VHS (unless you have a region-free DVD player). I don't get it. It's 2011. Where the fuck is my Spookies DVD???

Panels From Beyond the Grave #5

Here is another review from my pal, Bob(by) Ignizio. I'll whip up another comic review next week, but for now, enjoy the fifth panel from beyond the grave...

DETECTIVE COMICS (#881, October 2011)

Batman is one of the few mainstream superheroes who lends himself well to horror. Since Scott Snyder took over the writing duties on Detective Comics just shy of a year ago, he's taken a grittier, more noir-ish approach to the character with current Batman Dick Grayson actually living up to the comic's title and doing some honest-to-goodness detective work. The horror has come in through a secondary plotline involving Commissioner Gordon's son, James, who it turns out is a cold-blooded sociopath. Combined, these two separate threads have defined Snyder's run on the series, as have both artists he's worked with during that time. In issue #881, everything comes together for a satisfying finale.

As the issue begins, James has his sister Barbara (the former Batgirl, now Oracle) held captive, and Dick and Commissioner Gordon finally know without a shadow of a doubt that James is a serial killer. Dick races against the clock to stop this bad seed in the Gordon family tree. Meanwhile, James tells sister Barbara of his plot to put a drug into baby formula that will make the children exposed to it grow up to be sociopaths like him.

The scenes between James and Barbara are illustrated by Francesco Francavilla in a somewhat retro style that reminds me of Darwyn Cooke's work. The portions of the story involving Batman and the Commissioner are by Jock, who has an equally distinctive but more action-oriented style. Both styles not only work very well with their respective plotlines, but actually mesh with each other quite well.

When Dick and James have their final showdown, James makes a compelling case for why the former Robin and Nightwing just doesn't cut it as Gotham City's Dark Knight: he's too nice, too willing to see the good in people, and just not capable of waging the sort of relentless war on crime that Bruce Wayne did. The point is further driven home by the ambiguous ending of the issue. It's entirely possible that Dick failed to stop James from carrying out his plan. Only time will tell.

Dick clearly made some mistakes, but I'm not sure that I agree with James that he makes a lousy Batman. In fact, I've quite enjoyed his tenure under the cowl. But anyone who has been reading comics more than a month or two knew from the moment that Bruce Wayne “died” that he'd be back as the one true Batman sooner or later. He's been sharing the mantle with Dick since his resurrection, but evidently, Dick goes back to being Nightwing next month when DC comics relaunches all their titles. At least Grayson's final issue wearing his mentor's costume turned out to be a really good one.

Matches That Time Forgot #14

This is the first Undertaker match that I've culled for this column. The Last Outlaw doesn't work a full schedule anymore, but in the early days, he was a wrestling machine. Due to his exacting itinerary, the majority of his matches were feckless, inconsequential midcard jousts against the most random heels that Vince's daffy roster had to offer. Thus, they were...forgotten. This is a bout from the first season of Monday Night Raw. See The Phenom clash with Samu of The Headshrinkers!

A couple of notes...at one point, Taker pulls out a fucking dropkick. I can't recall any other matches where he executes a fucking dropkick, though I could be mistaken. Despite a major botch within the first minute, this is a fun fight. The Headshrinkers are one of my favorite tag teams from the 90's. The New Headshrinkers were just as gnarly, but they never received a true push. Vince was eager to give Fatu a singles run, and I understand why.

The Spiral Staircase

It's been too long since I have enjoyed a hushed suspense thriller from the golden age of cinema. I will never understand the aversion to black-and-white films that certain people harbor in their unwillingness to escape modern diversionary tactics. The art of suggestion is too much for their brains to handle, I suppose. These movies require you to fill in the blanks. Personally, I need to watch antiquated genre goodies like 1945's The Spiral Staircase to reboot my hard drive in between viewings of sleazy Eurotrash quickies and brazen splatter romps. It reshuffles my deck, so to speak. Speaking of speaking...

God, that was a tragic segue. Let's see if I can bounce back from the depths of deplorable word play. Staircase follows Helen, a mute nurse who looks after the bedridden mother of the Warren boys (no, not the Warner boys). Professor Warren, the older and more sensible brother, has taken extra precautions to ensure the safety of our voiceless heroine. He has instructed the staff of his ornate mansion to see to it that Helen is never alone. Why all the hubbub? Because on this dark and stormy night, an unseen killer is stalking young women, young disabled women. The authorities believe that our Helen could be the next victim.

Meanwhile, autistic werewolves are raping patio furniture and vandalizing lighthouses in the name of Wink Martindale. NOTE: Portions of this synopsis have been fabricated for comedic effect. As for which portions are trustworthy, you'll just have to rely on your gut instinct. Ethel Barrymore was nominated for an Academy Award for her performance as the sickly matriarch, but in my opinion, Dorothy McGuire is the star of the show. Her mostly silent turn as Helen is phenomenal. She conveys more emotion with thoughtful, calculated facial expressions than some actors can muster with a script full of rambling dialogue.

The Spiral Staircase is definitely a film that you want to watch on DVD. The cinematography is exquisite, and the lighting is surgically precise (you can see a great deal of detail during the nighttime exterior shots). Director Robert Siodmak does a bang-up job of creating tension in the third act, even though the whodunit reveal is somewhat predictable. The plot holes will eat away at your psyche if you think about them too much. But this flick wasn't meant to be dissected. It was meant to be screened on a dark, stormy night while you cuddle with your main squeeze and devour popcorn. "Dark" and "stormy" are awesome adjectives.