It was only a year ago when “Twilight” entered my life. I had no history with the book, held immense reservations with the cast and crew, and found the hysteria surrounding the release obnoxiously manufactured by a desperate studio. And then I watched the film, finding every last one of my fears confirmed. “Twilight” was a dreadful picture on multiple levels, but most pointedly it was a shoddily produced affair entirely dependent on forgiving teen enthusiasm to provide colossal box office returns. Here we are again one year later with “The Twilight Saga: New Moon,” and there have been a few changes to the franchise. Changes for the better.

Engorged with love for her vampire honey Edward (Robert Pattinson), Bella (Kristen Stewart) is facing the end of high school, eager to start her life with her bothered boyfriend. When a birthday party paper cut triggers the reality of life amongst the vampires, Edward and the rest of the Cullen family skip town, leaving Bella in an unrelenting fog of depression. Comforting her is Jacob (Taylor Lautner), newly buffed and ready to make his move on Bella. As the two grow closer, Jacob also turns away from Bella right at the moment of romantic satisfaction. Forced to meet his destiny as a monster werewolf, Jacob is put to the test when his animal instincts collide with his human desire, once again forcing Bella into a life of peril. With Jacob feeling out his protective impulses and Edward facing trial with vampire elders The Volturi (led by Michael Sheen), Bella is torn between two lovers, caught in a war she’s only just beginning to understand.

Gone is director Catherine Hardwicke. That sound you hear is me doing a happy dance. A clumsy, graceless filmmaker, Hardwicke’s fingerprints have been thoroughly rubbed off the “Twilight” franchise, replaced by Chris Weitz, last seen managing the stillborn blockbuster, “The Golden Compass.” The leap from Hardwicke to Weitz isn’t exactly leaping from Wood to Spielberg, but “New Moon” benefits from the fresh creative blood behind the camera. A man who has some sense of widescreen elegance and timing, the “Twilight” under Weitz’s watch is a considerably more persuasive distraction.

Whereas “Twilight” held next to no redeeming qualities, “New Moon” shows some effort carefully shaping author Stephenie Meyer’s world to the big screen. Weitz is a stronger conductor, finding pockets of mystery and mood to exploit while Bella figures out which monster she wants to tame. There’s one genuinely terrific scene in “New Moon” — a hunting sequence where Jacob and the werewolves defend their turf from ginger vamp Victoria (Rachelle Lefevre, thankfully refused the gift of dialogue). It’s a superb blend of moony monsterdom, shameless soundtrack shilling, and inventive wire-fu. Hey, when all else fails the feature, at least Weitz nails one first-class scene. Hardwicke never got her film off the ground.

While promising in spurts, “New Moon” is still a stilted drag when concentrating on the triangle of lovers. Weitz is careful not to interfere with the formula that made “Twilight” such a smash, which means even more time with two lead actors incapable of providing a legitimate emotion. It’s tough to blame Weitz, since Orson Welles himself couldn’t pull anything resembling acting from Stewart, who once again tics and stutters he way through an excruciating performance. Bella’s 18 years of age now, but she still acts like an infant, and her scenes of loss when Edward shimmies out of her life are hysterically overcooked — Bella convulses and screams like she misplaced a prized lottery ticket, not a creepy boyfriend, who incidentally enjoys rummaging through her personal effects when she’s not around. What a dreamboat.

Pattinson sort of mumbles his way through the film, though Edward is not the star of the show in “New Moon.” The tousled one leaves the movie for long stretches, mostly appearing in a ghostly Obi-Wan role, urging Bella to avoid becoming an adrenaline junkie to purge vampire love out of her system. Pattinson and Stewart’s scenes are a slow death, making it impossible to understand what type of connection they so vehemently share. The script requires burning and swooning, but these cold fish just indicate their way to total disaster. This leaves Lautner an open shot to steal the film, and the actor gets halfway there. Revealing a personality (Stewart and Pattinson’s kryptonite it seems) and a spunky attitude, Lautner overcomes his limited range and atrocious dialogue to add some spark (and obscene muscles) to an overwhelmingly dreary picture.

Also of interest is Michael Sheen as the David Coverdale figure of the Voltari gang, who camps his way through his brief shot of screentime, though in the best way imaginable. Also rocking fangs and a ‘tude is Dakota Fanning, accomplishing nothing as a Voltari enforcer, which isn’t surprising. Why she’s here is the film’s biggest mystery.

“New Moon” is incredibly somber and artificially elongated, robbing the cynical viewer out of prime giggle fits that should rightfully accompany these declarations of love, hasty exits, and sabotaged make-out sessions. And I would love to know what the werewolves spend monthly on jean shorts. They seem to burn through them pretty quick.

“The Twilight Saga: New Moon” is just as crushingly goofy as “Twilight,” but Weitz’s effort to solidify the material is noticeable and appreciated. With “The Twilight Saga: Eclipse” due in theaters in a mere eight months (“New Moon” ends with a cliffhanger), there’s some hope that the series will improve over time, effectively righting every last Hardwicke wrong. This is not a quality film by any means, but it’s a step up, and that’s a relief.

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

This week on Dexter, Miami Metro Homicide begins to give more credibility and manpower to Deborah Morgan’s (Jennifer Carpenter) Trinity Killler  case. However, it has become clear that Trinity(John Lithgow) was seemingly NOT the shooter who wounded Deb and killed Frank Lundy (Keith Carradine). Meanwhile, Dexter invites himself along on Trinity’s sinister road trip, this time with intent to kill. Angel Batistia (David Zayas) and Maria Laguerta (Lauren Velez) can’t resist each other, despite their warning from the higher-ups. Finally, Rita (Julie Benz) finds herself having dinner with her creepy and aggressive single-father neighbor.

As per usual with the Dexter Recap, beware of spoilers below.

Dexter continues to impress this season with this week’s episode. I take in an insane and irresponsible amount of television and film every week and nothing keeps me slobbering with expectation like our boy Dexter. For me, the most unexpected turn the show took this week was the revelation that Trinity, it would seem, didn’t shoot Deb. Which obviously begs the question, who did?

It is astonishing how much Dexter has changed since season one. Of course, there are times when his brazen and careless behavior is a necessary evil. But this impromptu relationship he has set up with Arthur Mitchell (Trinity) is ill-advised at best.

What is to happen when Miami Homicide begins closing in on Trinity? Imagine they catch him and bring him in. Dex would obviously not be able to let Trinity see him. Granted, catching him probably won’t happen. It seems like it will have to end with someone dying. But still, Dexter is tap dancing on thin ice.

I love this notion of Kyle Butler, Dexter’s alter ego, being a catalyst to set Trinity off at any given moment. It really ups the nail-biting factor of the show. Trinity has always taken great measure to conceal his deviant behavior. Now, here comes this stranger prodding him and provoking him to open up.

Seeing Arthur lose control and begin acting like an Alzheimer’s escapee in a public restaurant made every muscle in my body contract like a fainting goat. I think I even toppled off my couch and hit my head on the coffee table.

And what’s with the friendly neighborhood rapist next door? His underhanded macking and drink-pushing gave me an eerie feeling. He didn’t attack Rita, but I kept getting the feeling it might happen any second. Actually, I wouldn’t mind seeing Rita begin an affair. It would knock her off of her high horse for one thing. Also, one has to wonder how that would go over with Dexter’s Dark Passenger.

There are many things to love about this gem of a TV show. Week to week we see top-notch performances and stellar writing. “Road Kill” perfectly demonstrated the show’s crisp cinematography. Did anyone catch that great little match fade at the beginning of the episode where the shot of that fully blossomed rose dissolves into the spot of blood on one of Dexter’s blood slides?

Gorgeous little transitions like those along with the show’s tendency to play with shadows makes Dexter not only entertaining to watch, but aesthetically pleasing to look at as well. It is for this reason (among many others) that this episode – hell, this whole season so far – gets a big 5 out of 5 stars.

Tune in to Showtime next week at 9 p.m. to get your next Dexter fix.

In the high stakes Hollywood blockbuster poker game, Roland Emmerich is going all in with “2012.” A disaster movie to end all disaster movies, “2012” is an enormous moviegoing event guaranteed to make eyes bleed and ears burst with its sheer scale and thundering execution. To bend the dictionary a little, it’s positively ginormous. “2012” is also disturbingly repetitive, obnoxiously noisy, and almost pornographic in length. Instead of providing a comforting bowl of melted apocalyptic cheese, Emmerich wants to beat the living hell out of his audience instead, staging doom after doom, death after death, until it reaches a nauseating spin of sensorial overload. It’s cinematic waterboarding and there was more than one occasion during the film when I was convinced it was never going to end.

As the Mayan calendar foretold, Earth is ready to restructure itself in the year 2012, and there’s no possible way to stop it. For government scientist Adrian (Chiwetel Ejiofor), semi-early detection has helped to prepare the leaders of the world for the worst, with billions spent to construct colossal arks to help preserve humanity’s finest minds. In Los Angeles, Jackson (John Cusack) is a struggling divorced dad hoping to connect with his estranged kids on a camping trip to Yellowstone. En route, Jackson finds ecological devastation and the radio rants of conspiracy nut Charlie (Woody Harrelson), who warns of the impending 2012 disaster, much to Jackson’s disbelief. Once the Earth’s crust commences its destructive shift, Jackson races back to California to rescue his family (including Amanda Peet) as the continents crumble, burst, and submerge during the planet’s ferocious final act.

Roland Emmerich has a wealth of experience in the field of disaster cinema. In fact, it’s pretty much all the man has worked on during his erratic career. While hitting highlights like the rousing “Independence Day,” Emmerich is also responsible for cringers such as “The Day After Tomorrow” and 1998’s “Godzilla.” “2012” is a brown cloud floating somewhere between the two extremes, often uncomfortably so. While the creative electricity is obviously flowing through the filmmaker’s system with “2012,” Emmerich’s notoriously questionable taste is on vivid display throughout this gaudy epic, emphasizing a director who’s lost his youthful wonder, replacing nimble silver screen spectacle with severe punishment.

“2012” is 158 minutes long. This is not an unheard of running time for the genre, but for such a snarling, aggressive film, 158 minutes feels like an eternity. Granted, the picture’s early scenes are comfortable enough, happily building the suspense as the ground splits open, scientists stare feverishly at apocalyptic forecasts, and Jackson slowly grasps the frightening end of the world scenario standing before him. Action is always a priority for Emmerich, and “2012” submits a carefree mood of near misses and, of course, cataclysmic events that tear a good section of the world (notably Los Angeles and Washington D.C.) to pieces. These are the money shots and they’re sold impeccably by the special effects team, who manage well under Emmerich’s patient eye, delivering vast, extended statements of doom, marked by outstanding detail and twisted imagination (however, the greenscreen work is the worst I’ve seen since “A Sound of Thunder”). With Cusack around, the nightmare scenario is lifted some: the actor leans into the outrageousness agreeably, though I’m sure Emmerich didn’t even notice.

There’s Danny Glover as the President of the United States, a Russian billionaire with a Paris Hiltonesque girlfriend, Tom McCarthy playing Jackson’s domestic rival, kids with urinary incontinence problems, Oliver Platt as the sniveling government stooge, improbable cell phone reception, car-fu, airplane gymnastics, bad Arnold Schwarzenegger vocal imitators, and surveillance cameras with unlikely range. There’s a whole lotta silly going on in “2012,” and while camp is always repellent, Emmerich could’ve made the entire experience more agreeable by keeping the mood fresh and playful. Instead, “2012” becomes quite grave, taking its nonsense seriously after a frothy start, alternating between scenes of unspeakable annihilation and absurd intimacy, where the characters take a smoke break from the end of the world to worry about parental responsibility or romantic partners. The female characters even bond over breast implant talk. Yeesh.

Volleying back and forth between agony and melodrama tuckers out “2012” quickly, forcing Emmerich to dial up the noise even louder to keep attention glued to the screen. Is there any reason to care about these characters? Absolutely not. They’re pathetic Irwin Allen stand-ins saddled with threadbare motivation and abysmal dialogue, standing in a single file line on their way to the CG-amped slaughterhouse, filling Emmerich’s screenwriting 101 cliché requirements to help beef up the mayhem. It’s bad enough to be subjected to 158 minutes of earsplitting chaos, but to witness a clownish director making a pass at poignancy is excruciating to behold. The more “2012” attempts to brazenly manipulate, the more it turns to stone.

Some might make the argument that Emmerich is in on the joke. That “2012” is purposely engorged to best extract the finest blockbuster bait. I’m not convinced such a plan was in place. The picture is too oblivious and too self-congratulatory for such a master stroke of wit, and, outside of an asinine doggie rescue scene, I’m positive Emmerich believes in every single moment of this film. Someone has to.

There’s an idiotic audacity to “2012” that might appeal to certain audiences out there craving a silver screen circus. For the gut-level awe of it all, “2012” will provide the appropriate chills as Earth succumbs to its fiery, waterlogged destiny. Just don’t sit there expecting an invitation from Emmerich to join the fun. He’s only here to beat you senseless, not entertain. It’ll hurt more if you squirm.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

This week on Dexter, Dex (Michael C. Hall) maintains his contact with the Trinity Killer (John Lithgow). His family life and serial killing continue to mix like oil and water. Meanwhile, Detective Debra Morgan (Jennifer Carpenter) settles in to her brother’s old apartment and promptly makes it her new, private war room to track down Trinity. Angel Batista (David Zayas) and Lieutenant Laguerta (Lauren Velez) continue to try and stifle their feelings for one another to keep their jobs. Detective Quinn (Desmond Harrington) gets the bright idea to begin tailing Dexter for dirt to use as defense against Dex seeing him steal money from a crime scene. As usual with The Dexter Recap here at The Demon, beware of spoilers if you haven’t seen this episode.

I find it very interesting how when Dexter’s family life is on the rocks, his Dark Passenger thrives. Yet, in this episode, we saw the inverse of the equation – when Dex’s family life is thriving, his Dark Passenger suffers.

Dex and Rita are patching things up and he is slowly making ground with the kids. However, at the end of the episode we saw the outcome of the Distracted Daddy Dexter: the code has been broken, an innocent man was killed.

We’ve seen Dexter go off code before, but never so blatantly. And not only did he break the principle foundation of the code, but all of the little articles of the code that have always ensured his survival have been seemingly thrown to the side.

I mean, did anyone else get a S.P.B. (severely puckered b-hole) when Dex ran off into the night during Cody’s camping trip to kill a man?  What the FUCK, Dex?

All of this is further evidence of this season’s primary theme: Dexter does not have the emotional framework OR skill set to handle such an intricate double life. And while his life lessons from the Trinity Killer seem to be paying off for now, Dexter is playing with fire by befriending him in the first place, especially since Deb is now on the hunt for Trinity.

And let’s not forget Detective Quinn. Oh Quinn, why are you tailing our Dexter? The last thing Dexter needs during this adjustment period to family life is another Sgt. Doakes (Erik King) snooping around his private life. This can’t be going anywhere good.

Also this week, we were offered more mysterious insight into the mind of Trinity. Who is the coffin for? Is building the coffin simply Trinity’s way of blowing off his evil steam? My guess – that coffin has someone’s name on it… Kyle Butler. That’s right – Dexter’s alter ego that visits Trinity, invades his privacy, and even provokes him at times. Something was off about Trinity on the pair’s little jaunt off into the woods to cut lumber. But at least Dexter can sense that his provoking Trinity means he should take percautions to keep from being blindsided. At least he is being cautious for now, but what happens if Trinity begins to gain Dexter’s trust?

Only time will tell. And that time is 9:00 P.M. ET on Sunday evening. Tune in to Showtime to find out!

Every night when you sleep, two forces emerge from their parallel world to join in battle over your very soul. They do so by manipulating your subconscious. The Storytellers try to help you with peaceful sleep infused with good dreams of happiness, confidence and strength. Tilting the scale on the other side are the sinister Incubis who use nightmares of death, fear and humiliation. In Ink, the focus of their attention is on the souls of John (Chris Kelly) and his daughter Emma (Quinn Hunchar) after Emma is snatched from her bed by a creature named Ink. If he delivers Emma to the Incubis, Ink will finally join their ranks and “become numb.” What follows is a fantasy-action tale detailing two separate journeys. One is Ink’s as he holds Emma hostage while meeting various other characters in order to complete his task. The other journey is Emma’s father’s who has lost himself long ago after succumbing to grief, guilt and pride. He has been offered a chance at redemption while unbeknownst to him, a fight for his soul – and that of his daughter’s – is being waged by forces unseen.

So I anxiously awaited the day I could finally see Ink, a film that has been praised all to hell by other sites. I couldn’t wait to see what all the buzz surrounding this indie-film was about. Compared to such high concept sci-fi as Dark City, Brazil, and Donnie Darko…well, that’s some mighty big shoes for an independent film with no distributor to fill. So does it live up to all of the accolades it has been getting? Yeah, in some cases it does. But it does have a few large hurdles.

Have any of you seen Animal House? The classic scene with Pinto and the passed out chick? For those of you who have not, Pinto is faced with a dilemma. Does he get sexual with the half-naked chick passed out on the bed or not. His moral quandary is visualized by the classic Shoulder Angel and Devil. The Devil yells “Fuck her! Fuck her brains out!” while the Angel chastises Pinto and tells him if he does it, his life would be ruined. Date rape has never been so funny. Anyway, that’s basically the premise behind the world of Ink. In real life, everyone has the ability to recognize and make the decisions that alter the course of his or her life for better or for worse. In Ink that is still the case, but you also have two unseen groups trying to influence your every decision. The Storytellers on one shoulder guiding you to do the right thing, while the Incubis, a cross between Hellraiser’s Cenobites and Dark City’s The Strangers, are on the other trying to lead you down a path of doom and destruction. But instead of just bickering back and forth, these two do a lot of ass kicking and wire-fu.

On this level, Ink works. It’s an emotional type of movie that seems to resonate a lot with the older crowd. Not saying that young people would not enjoy Ink, but those of us who have lived long enough to have the shape of our body formed into the beds we have made, those who have lived long enough to have experienced the loneliness that can come along with a successful career, distant children created by absenteeism, the grief of losing someone close or one of the worst feeling ever created – regret. The “look back on your life” type of regret. For those viewers I think Ink works on a completely different, more effective level even with some of the flaws.

Ink shows how one man who has experienced all of this, most by his own doing, and has been offered a chance of redemption. He is about to be given a second chance of sorts. Shown that the ramifications of wrong decisions does not necessarily include a life of continually making the same, wrong decisions. Nothing new, really. It’s the standard Heaven versus Hell, It’s A Wonderful Life type story we are all aware of and in more books and films than I care to count. Winans just dressed it up with some gorgeous, sometimes stunning visuals and introduced a new cast of angels and devils. That’s not trivializing what he has done, as he did it quite well as far as I am concerned. At times I actually felt inspired by Ink and that alone is about the best compliment I think I can give someone’s movie. But that’s not to say I didn’t have serious issues with it as well. Part being the story itself.

Ink’s world has a handful of characters who do not belong to either the Storytellers or the Incubis. They are Drifters like Ink, beings who have entered this dream world and have not chosen a side. These Drifters have various roles to play in this world for no discernible reason and often help out either side depending on who they are loyal to. You meet some of these Drifters because Ink needs a new key to get to a particular location, but the key is made by an assembly code. This code is broken in two – each piece being held by a different Drifter. A chunk of the movie follows Ink and his hostage as he visits these two Drifters to obtain the codes. I was not a fan of either of these scenes as their function is not fleshed out enough for me to have seen them as anything more than reasons to show off two eccentric characters – both of which performed horribly by their respective actors. It was very Matrix Reloadedy and reminded me of all the silly Keymaster, Oracle, Frenchman shit I hated about that movie.

A very happy Incubis

Another mostly miss in the acting department would go to Jeremy Make who plays Jacob, a Pathfinder. He has the ability to hear the beat of the world and if he wants, perform a form of Divine Intervention. He can disturb the rhythm of your life. Break the chain of your timeline. Alter your course. This is shown in a really well done sequence in the film as Jacob, whose eyes have black tape over them, listens to the beat going on around him and with one simple act involving a dollar bill, is able to change the course of one man’s life forever. It was cool – as is the character. But at times Make plays him in such a way that I never knew if it was on purpose or just flat out bad acting. Whatever the case, I cringed at some of his delivery.

But luckily, the majority of this film rests on Chris Kelly’s and Quinn Hunchar’s performances. The entire movie is hinged on them and in the case of Hunchar – she does fine. Most of her time is spent staring or being the viewer’s inside line into what the hell is going on as key plot points are described to her via another Storyteller. But Kelly goes above and beyond. Winans made a great choice casting this guy. During flashbacks, we see him change from a man falling in love to his current situation as a successful workaholic whose pride, grief and anger have left him dead on the inside. His role runs the gambit of emotions, from love, loss, anger and he nails all of them. While nothing deserving of an Oscar, his performance was what kept me watching well past admiring the cinematography and ignoring the sometimes convoluted aspects of the main story. The only downside being that his really good acting made some of the more amateur acting look really amateur.

Jacob the Pathfinder and a hawt Ink Storyteller

So should you try and check it out? Absolutely. I can understand why a lot of people where so jazzed up after seeing it. Every scene attempts to be an emotional punch, some of them even succeeding, accented by Winans score that fit these scenes like a glove. The characters and effects work was mostly imaginative and memorable, even if a lot did echo other films. But I do suggest not thinking too long or hard about some of the smaller details the film contains or the ones that are missing. The overall message is plain to see and unlike some of the specific plot details, is not hard to understand. Winans wrote, directed and scored this film and hit the marks far, far more times than he missed them. That is a true testament to the talent this guy possesses and I will keep my fingers crossed that the possible success of this film will open new doors for him. Maybe in the process get the attention of those who shut the doors in his face as he tried to get this film distributed. I will be waiting to see what he does next. I’m giving Ink 3-and-a-half good dreams about Bingo out of 5.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

Official Site

This is not a review of the surreal film from Chester Turner titled Black Devil Doll From Hell – that’s coming later. No, this is a review of the Lewis Brother’s Black Devil Doll. An extremely offensive, hilariously sleazy chunk of blaxploitation about a girl named Heather (Heather Murphy) and her ventriloquist puppet. A doll that happens to be possessed by Mubia Abul-Jama, a Black Power Revolutionary Party leader who was recently executed for murdering 15 Caucasian women. Heather’ s troubles began when she started screwing around with her Ouija board, unwittingly allowing Mubia to escape Hell and inherit the body of the puppet – transforming it into a black devil doll sporting a beret and afro. Heather falls in love with Mubia but ultimately is unable to satisfy his insatiable desire for white ass. So she agrees to invite four of her friends over under the guise of hanging out; the ultimate goal being a way for Mubia to seduce the women and have sex with them. But Heather is in for a big surprise when she learns Mubia’s ways of seduction are not quite…normal. In fact, they are downright depraved. Black Devil Doll is a film chock full of rape, crude humor, shit, puppet cumshots, golden showers, tossed salads, necrophilia, homosexual necrophilia, puppet sex as well as cold-blooded murder. In other words, everything you could want in a film, or for some of you, everything you want to avoid.

I mean really, what else can I say about this movie that you could not already gather from the trailer? Either you are immediately turned off by the silliness of it, or you are on Amazon getting you a copy before reading any further. Be warned if you are one of those politically correct types, as Black Devil Doll will consistently offend you all to hell. The film goes much, much, further than even I expected. Inspired by a slew of films including Black Devil Doll from Hell, the Child’s Play films and the exploitation genre in general, the entire time I was watching Black Devil Doll I was reminded of the first time I ever watched films like The Toxic Avenger or Street Trash. It reminded me of just how much I love independent horror – when you can tell that the film was made strictly for the fans of the genre by fans of the genre.

The acting is non-existent and the plot as bare as the scarred breasts of some of the women in the movie, but at times Lewis really captured that sleazy feel of early grindhouse films. You wont forget that this is a recreation of 42nd Street cinema, especially with how unabashed it is in its self-awareness along with the nifty visual effects used in some of the “Negroscope” scenes. But still, the way the film is edited – with ’70s techniques like split screens and zoom-ins – give the film that retro vibe.

The humor is of the toilet variety. It is politically incorrect,  juvenile and obscene. So if you are not a fan of offensive humor, again, stay away from this one. Some of the jokes are repeated a bit and lose their effectiveness, but there are some hilarious lines in the film ( a few I have happily repeated on the phone to my friends, much to their dismay) and the absurdity of some of the scenes were no different than watching uncensored Dave Chappelle skits.

But you cannot have blaxploitation without sex and violence and luckily Black Devil Doll features gratuitous amounts of both. I am pretty sure that not a minute goes by in which a pair of naked tits are not on the screen. Naked car washing, breast comparisons, naked Twister, showers, baths and of course – puppet sex. Adding to the bucket of sleaze is that the women of Black Devil Doll are not your normal horror movie variety. These are not your typical Hollywood starlets looking for that one, big break. They are more akin to what you see in the other strip club in your town. You know, the one without BMW’s in the parking lot. But considering what some of these women do with this puppet, including a woman tossing the puppet’s salad, they are exactly what you’d expect.

The violence includes beatings by baseball bats, stabbings, throat slashing, electrocution and strangulation. Most of these effects are crudely done, but fit the overall style of the movie. I also want to point out the excellent score by The Giallos Flame. I friggin’ loved it. This horror funk and jazz band, known for remixing popular horror scores into tracks that sound like Fabio Frizzi, Franco Micallizi and Goblin collaborated together. You can check out a few of their Black Devil Doll titles through their Myspace page. If I could find any fault with a movie that has a scene of a black puppet shitting on a door and having sex with dead white women, it would simply be that some of the scenes went on a bit too long. Not sure if it was on purpose for effect or for padding out the run-time, but regardless, some of these scenes had me checking my watch.

Black Devil Doll is like those films that acted as a proverbial  middle finger to Hollywood – except Lewis and crew use that same finger to give Hollywood a Dirty Sanchez. I agree with the above trailer when it states, “If the thought of a wayward white woman having sexual relations with a demonic jive ass black puppet offends you, DO NOT SEE Black Devil Doll…” but if that sentence alone has piqued your interest, then you are probably a twisted fuck like myself and will have a good time with it. Overall I found it to be a very entertaining and succeeded in getting a laugh or three out of me – but I do have an extremely warped sense of humor so different strokes and all that. For best results, watch with friends…and beer. I’m giving Black Devil Doll 3-and-a-half tossed salads.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

Official Page | Myspace Page | Soundtrack

Some of us old farts remember the V miniseries that debuted in the early ’80s. It still has a pretty solid fanbase but to be completely honest – I wasn’t a fan. I cannot remember why all these years later, but as a kid it just wasn’t my thing. Who knows. Maybe it was Marc Singer. Or maybe it’s because I’m weird about sci-fi. I cannot stand Star Trek, but love Firefly. I didn’t like the original V, but love Battlestar Galactica. Either way, when the announcement was made that the television miniseries was not immune to the remake and that V was next…well let’s just say I wasn’t too excited about it. But admittedly, I was intrigued by the ABC’s advertisements (as well as Elizabeth Mitchell and Morena Baccarin) and decided what the hell, I’ll give it a shot. I am so glad I did. It may turn out to be a shitty series, but the pilot was damn good. Following is my review of the new V, with no reference to the old one as I only remember a rat scene and Robert Englund anyway. No worries, as usual there are no major spoilers or plot details given away you don’t already get from the commercials.

They couldn’t have had better timing. Wars, economic crisis, environmental issues seem to have come to a head with no relief in site when out of the sky come the Visitors. Unannounced, these humans from space arrive in 29 massive ships the size of small towns – each parking over a major city across the globe. Their High Commander, Anna (Firefly’s yummy Morena Baccarin) immediately calms our fears and apologizes for the rude entrance. She reveals that they come in peace. She inform us that their extremely attractive race has arrived because they are in desperate need of water and our planet has shitloads of it. They want to work out a trade. For some of our water they will give us technology that will help solve some of the biggest issues plaguing our planet.

They then set out to show how nice they are by setting up Healing Stations to cure people of any number of ailments. They set up Ambassador programs for our youth to help bridge the gap between our culture and theirs. They conduct tours of their ships and show off some of their advanced technology. They are almost too perfect. And kinda creepy actually. But then again, I never trust people who are happy all the time. And others don’t either. For various reasons, some people do not trust our new residents and there motto of, “We are of peace.  Always,”  triggers warning bells, not feelings of hope. Some of these people stage protests. Some of them form rebellions.

Father Jack Landry (The 4400’s Joel Grestch) is one of the wary ones. He’s a priest who makes a living on blind faith in an empty church, but even he thinks things are a bit off with the V’s. He thinks they have come at an awfully convenient time and that their helping hands will have gratitude morphing to worship and worse yet, devotion. But hey, the Vatican says everything is cool – so what’s a priest to do? Chad Decker (Scott Wolf) is a network talking head. Paid to read the news not create any. But after a chance meeting with Anna at a press conference, he finds himself chosen by the V’s as their personal mouthpiece. His desire to have the world hanging on to his every word is a strong pull and overshadows any trust issues he has with the V’s and their wish to have nothing reported about them that could show them in a negative light.

FBI agents Erica Evans (Lost’s oh so gorgeous Elizabeth Mitchell) and Dale Maddox (Firefly’s Alan Tudyk) don’t have much time to focus on the V’s as it is still business as usual. Especially when one of the terrorist cells they have been monitoring had a spike in activity the day the V’s arrived, while all the other fell silent. Their investigation into this cell and their stockpile of C4, puts them right in the middle of a battle that has been going on for a while and ultimately places Evans at odds with her son Tyler (Logan Huffman). Tyler has become obsessed with the V’s and has fallen for one of their New York Ambassador Leaders, Lisa (Smallville’s Laura Vandervoort). Rounding off the main characters are Ryan Nichols (Morris Chestnut), a business man about to propose to Valerie Holt (Lourdes Benedicto) until Georgie (David Richmond-Peck), a friend from his past who is leading the V rebellion, shows up and pulls him into a situation he had been avoiding.

As you can see by the various shows these key actors have been a part of, V has no shortage of good talent. So I am keeping my fingers crossed that the storyline can stay as interesting as this pilot was. Sure it felt like it moved a long a bit too quickly in the beginning – the V’s arrive and seemingly overnight people are buying “I Love the V’s” T-shirts. But I think the decision to not stretch out the basic premise and getting right into the story and the characters was a good one. The story moved along at a nice clip and I stayed interested throughout. The effects were pretty decent, the design of the V’s outfits and ship interiors were pretty damn good as was some of the action later in the film. There is some humor and pop-culture references (one kid stating “This is Independence Day!“) sprinkled throughout and even sneaking in an inside joke referencing The 4400.

But I’m sold. At least until the next episode. Why are the V’s here and what are their plans? You get most of that answered before the end of the pilot with some surprising reveals. In one scene, Anna’s interview in which she talks about their peaceful race and how much they can help Earth, is juxtaposed by Georgie informing the underground rebellion of the V’s true intentions and just how devious they are. In a matter of minutes, the entire series storyline is laid out and the potential is very promising. V very well could be a must-watch show for me this mid-season if they can keep it as interesting as they did tonight. Gonna have to give it 4 blinks out of 5.

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Anyone else watch? If so, what did you think?

Official Site

Dexter knows it’s only a matter of time before Miami Metro discovers the Trinity Killer’s latest handiwork. Therefore, he has to work doubly hard to stay one step ahead of their investigation. Dexter has begun to realize that the closer he gets to Trinity, the more he stands to learn from this very different beast. Trinity hides behind a well-kept mask, and getting behind that facade will require some extra prodding on Dexter’s part. Meanwhile, Debra becomes frustrated when she finds herself shut out from her own case. She considers bending the rules in the name of justice, risking her career in the process. LaGuerta and Batista come to regret a major decision, and realize that by playing by the rules they may have painted themselves into a corner. And when the friction between Rita and Dexter comes to a head, Dexter gleans relationship advice from a most unlikely source.

As per usual with The Dexter Recap, BEWARE OF SPOILERS if you have not seen this episode. With that said, ahem…

HE’S A DEACON! A DEACON!! John Lithgow’s Trinity Killer is a fucking church deacon. God, I love this show. I am so ecstatic about where we are off to now this season. It seems the magnifying glass is finally being put on Trinity. And not a moment too soon if you ask me.

We finally are beginning to understand the events that set Trinity off onto 30 years of carnage. The untimely deaths of his sister, mother, and father lit the fuse on his inner sociopath just as witnessing the death of his mother did for Dexter. However, that hardly answers all of the questions about Trinity’s bizarre killing cycle.

Could Trinity have been responsible for any of the original death’s in his family? Moreover, what is with the scalding hot showers he takes and provoking a stranger to beat him til’ he poops blood? Are they simply rituals of atonement or is there some greater meaning in them linked to his family? And how about Trinity’s  cover (the homes for the homeless community program)? Is that part of the ritual or is it simply a good cover?

In other news, it was relieving to see a breakthrough in Dex and Rita’s marriage. I was pretty hard on Rita (Julie Benz)  last week. However, Rita is not in the wrong to demand an open and honest marriage, even if  her sickly sweet manner makes me gag. Last night illustrated the hard fact that an emotionally devoid spouse cannot hide such a big secret from his/her partner. Everyday, Rita understands more about the nature of Dexter. She is slowly realizing he is incapable of feeling anything.

Rita finally giving in to the notion that Dexter is a private person who needs his space does not mean the marriage is out of the woods yet, obviously. Even while marriage counseling was underway, Dex was still out living his double life – this time as Kyle Butler – a lost soul who is looking for answers at a church. Rita will continue to uncover lie after lie. The question is, what is the end game when she finds out the truth? The marriage counseling sessions seemed to hint that one day she WILL find out. While I love to think of Rita as finding out and supporting Dex 100%, I don’t think this can be the case.

Dexter’s house of cards continues to tower and sway. Everyone in his life, from his probing wife, Rita; to his dilligent detective sister, Deb (Jennifer Carpenter); to his intuitive co-workers, like the extremely loveable headache called Misuka (C.S. Lee); all of them are tearing off Dexter’s mask piece by piece. I can’t wait for the last season (though I hope we don’t see that for another two seasons at least). Will the last season just be one long crash and burn? The Season of Dexter’s Demise… hmmm…intriguing but only time will tell.

I am very dilligent in NOT watching the “next time on Dexter…” previews at the end of each episode.  So I haven’t a clue about what comes next. I just know Sunday can’t get here soon enough. Tune in to Showtime at 9:00 p.m. ET to find out. Until then…cya sickos.

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I walked out of a screening of “Saw” in 2004 absolutely appalled with the movie. Not for the sadomasochistic violence the film would soon popularize, but for the cruddy production value and the laughably abysmal performances — Cary Elwes should be gifted a national holiday for his whimpering, career-smothering work, effectively neutering the repulsion of the ultraviolence. I loathed the film, yet watched with some degree of surprise as the franchise developed a defensive mainstream following; kindly folk who cheerfully hurdled generous filmmaking clichés and further acting decimation to bathe in the warm pools of blood, sucking up the suffering with a bendy straw as if the nightmare were Cherry Coke.

Round after round, they kept coming back, encouraging the producers to churn out product on a yearly basis (the filmmaking equivalent of a Twinkie). Who cares if the series makes only a modicum of sense anymore? Who cares if the screenplays have run out of ideas for shock value? “Saw” brings the pain; a comfy sweater film series for those who crave displays of agony. And now, my dear readers, we’re up to chapter six. An impossible number. Freddy went out in a hail of 3-D and goofy celebrity cameos at this point. Jason folded into a cartoon for his sixth adventure. But Jigsaw? He still has something to prove. As long as the box office returns flood the Lionsgate bank account every Halloween, nothing is going to kill Jigsaw. And “Saw VI” is further proof that the producers of this franchise are running on fumes, flailing hysterically to keep the momentum going, still beating a premise that was bled dry long ago.

Agent Strahm is dead, leaving Lieutenant Hoffman (Costas Mandylor) free to continue the sadistic work of Jigsaw (Tobin Bell), setting death traps and teaching lasting lessons of morality. For Jigsaw’s widow, Jill (the always welcome Betsy Russell), a box containing the final instructions of punishment from her dead husband has been opened, with orders to target William (Peter Outerbridge), an insurance executive who has denied important health coverage for the needy for years, including Jigsaw. Setting William up in a sophisticated obstacle course of traps and time-sensitive judgment calls, Hoffman is ready to initiate his own reign of terror, only to find the unfinished fragments of Jigsaw’s past coming back to thwart his new direction.

Yes, for the first Obama-era “Saw” picture, the producers have decided to take on the health care industry. This has to be the most ridiculously perfect timing ever encountered in the horror industry. Of course, this means “Saw VI” is less of a torture chamber and more of a medieval town square confrontation, where the wicked insurance ghoul is brought before the paying audience to be pelted with vegetables and scorn, leaving director Kevin Greutert the honor of a slow cinematic dismemberment. Now how’s that for a public option!

The health care angle for “Saw VI” is a wild one, but in the grand tradition of these sequels, the filmmakers haven’t a clue what to do with the eency weency spark of creativity they’ve stumbled upon. Instead, they smother the topical subject in familiar monkey business, literally retracing the previous pictures, retelling the same old story of withered, cancer-stricken Jigsaw and his craving to scare the life back into his victims. “Saw VI” hints at a drive to tie up dusty loose ends and tender some closure to those who’ve stuck around this long. However, a swan song this film is most certainly not.

Shamelessly repetitive, “Saw VI” reheats old conflicts, brings back an old character to panic Hoffman, and simply feels old all around. Five sequels in, and the producers are still milking Jigsaw’s message of redemption? What was once comfortably tedious is now deadly dull, and Greutert is no help, blindly sticking to the franchise formula to make it out of his directorial debut alive. It’s lazy filmmaking all around.

The second half of “Saw VI” pits William against his vicious challenges, allowing the audience to root for the traps as they aim to chomp the money man’s limbs away. The extremity of the violence here is more cartoonish than ever before; the production is desperate to stay one step ahead of the audience by mounting more outlandish traps that necessitate the worst acting imaginable. The bloodletting is grandiose in “Saw VI,” but strangely uneventful. You know you’ve seen one too many of these films when the sight of man hacking away at his own engorged stomach with a rusty knife elicits a yawn and a quick check of the wristwatch. It seems vile of me to even suggest it, but the intensity of “Saw” is gone, replaced by predictability for installment six. The work of the devil now feels like senseless padding to make a feature-length running time.

While declarations of finality are tossed around liberally by the characters, “Saw VI” ends with another cliffhanger, assuring that the Jigsaw train will make a future stop come Halloween 2010. Would it kill these producers to take a few chances for the next adventure? It’s easy to loathe a “Saw” picture, but to be utterly bored by one seems an unpardonable offense.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

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Other than perhaps a bit too much of John Lithgow’s bare ass in some of the earlier episodes, what is not to love about Dexter this season? I thought it would be impossible to ever dethrone the second season as my personal favorite. But so far, season four is electrifying. Best of all, this season seems to be really digging at the audience, trying to make each viewer decide, “what is my code.” We all know the central question the show poses – is Dexter (and his actions) right or wrong? But even if you decide Dex is wrong, this wonderful little show is infamous for getting you to cheer on the self-proclaimed “monster.” And when you begin to cheer on the monster, you are forced to perceive some of the people close to him as a threat to his survival.

Which brings me to the principle threat to our dear serial killing machine now in season four – family life. It’s horrible to say, but sometimes, even I feel like I’m being smothered by the quintessential soccer mom, Rita (Julie Benz). And I’m sitting on the other side of the screen! AND, it’s a fictional television show! I used to love Rita, when she was the vulnerable, sweet girlfriend from season one. But now she has gone off the grid with her suburbanite routine. She’s a walking Norman Rockwell painting for shit’s sake. The woman is saccharine. Every time she speaks it’s like getting a Splenda enema.

While I thought Dex would be able to keep it together after the wedding, we are six episodes in and she has already discovered his apartment, seen his destructive side, and caught him in more lies than your garden variety American President. Wives…they know, man. It’s not that I want her to die, per se. I just want her to not…live…anymore. Hey, I’m not the only one thinking it! Ghost dad Harry seems to be constantly pointing out that the root of all Dexter’s problems is his family.

Let’s face it – like it or not, our hero in this story is a murderer. We can’t have anyone find out about that now can we? It seems the show’s PRODUCERS are even making Rita out to be an enemy. Remember that whole Karma Chameleon dance crap she was doing while driving Dex to work a couple of episodes back. Tell me you didn’t want to jump through the screen, grab the steering wheel, and run that van off of a pier. Just me? Oh…

However, Rita’s fate is not sealed. After last nights big reveal that the Trinity Killer (John Lithgow) is a family man, Dexter now has a role model – someone to show him how to have it all – the dark passenger AND the family life. I, for one, cannot wait to see how this plays out. So, don’t forget to tune in to Showtime on Sunday at 9ET. Until then, cya sickos.

Oh, yeah…R.I.P. Special Agent Lundy (Keith Carradine). You were an awesome character and will be missed.

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The projectionist could’ve run this film backwards, and I don’t think I would’ve noticed. Cirque du Freak: The Vampire’s Assistant is a Hollywood attempt to massage author Darren Shan’s 12-part saga of vampires and teenagers into a viable, cash-cow franchise. Spanning the first three novels, Assistant doesn’t tell a story as much as it hurls everything that isn’t nailed down against the wall to see what sticks. Labored and often tedious, the picture is a friendly stab at Burtonesque macabre antics, but director Paul Weitz is in way over his head trying to juggle huge portions of the grotesque and the epic. 16-year-old Darren (Chris Massoglia) is an average teen with good grades and a love for spiders. Finding a flyer for the Cirque du Freak sideshow, Darren decides to attend with impulsive best friend Steve (the limited Josh Hutcherson), finding the evening of oddities to their liking. Discovering the main act, Mr. Crepsley (John C. Reilly), is actually a vampire, a situation arises where Darren needs Crepsley’s help to save Steve from doom. Vowing to become his assistant, Crepsley fakes Darren’s death and ushers him into the Cirque family (including Salma Hayek, Orlando Jones, and Patrick Fugit). Educated in the ways of the vampire, Darren is troubled to learn that Steve has aligned himself with the nefarious Vampaneze and is dead set on revenge for all the humiliations he’s endured.

It’s not that Assistant is confusing, because I’m convinced that with ample time and patience, one could piece together the tale Weitz is desperate to sell here. My displeasure with the film comes from the velocity of the facts and figures. Condensing three books into 100 minutes is just asking for trouble, and Weitz isn’t the man for such an arduous job; how Weitz even nabbed the director’s chair is the most interesting mystery about this film. After In Good Company and the execrable American Dreamz, it’s odd that the producers handed the keys to a filmmaker without any previous work in the horror/fantasy genre. Hoping for a wry take on unconventional neck-biting shenanigans, Weitz offers the moneymen a joyless, verbose picture fiercely consumed with packing every last subplot into the script. There’s barely a moment to breathe before the next random act of Shan is introduced.

Assistant looks funky enough, with great attention to ghoulish moonlit graveyards and campsites. I also enjoyed the Cirque troupe and their various…ahem, gifts, sold well by the special effects. There’s just something inspired about Salma Hayek as a bearded lady. Reilly is a joy as Mr. Crepsley, moving away from his normal thick-tongued dopey guy routine to play a character with some menace about him and a little panache. There’s just not enough time spent on the freaks in the picture. With the focus on the teen characters and the hazy nonsense of the Vampaneze (a name that provoked waves of laughter from my screening audience), Assistant doesn’t chase the most exciting tangents, instead weighing itself down with bland subplots that never reach a fever pitch of enthusiasm the way Weitz hopes. With so much here to digest, the viewing experience is one of constant education, rarely allowing an opportunity to enjoy the vampiric fireworks.

In a ballsy move, Assistant ends with a cliffhanger of sorts, failing to seal the story shut in an effort to drag this anemic saga into a full-fledged franchise. It’s an ambitious gamble, and one wasted on a dreary exercise in Harry Potter franchise money tree dreams.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

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What would the world be like without horror remakes? Probably a happier place. The Stepfather was a 1987 genre classic, constructing a tremendously suspenseful chiller out of a fine collection of untested actors and mere pennies for a budget. Take out a few synth stings and fogged lighting techniques, and it still holds up damn well today, elevated by Terry O’Quinn’s masterful take on demented Robert Young envy. The new Stepfather is 100 minutes of dopey behavior and filmmaking inanity wrapped up tight in a bland, gutless PG-13 wooby, taking a proven premise and watering it down to a parade of nonsense created only to tickle gullible teen audiences. We’ve danced this dance a hundred times before, but it never ceases to kill a few brain cells and leave behind deep scratches of impatience on the armrest.

Fresh from his latest domestic murder, David Harris (Dylan Walsh) has come to Oregon to start over, targeting single mom Susan (Sela Ward) and her family, including eldest son Michael (Penn Badgley), fresh home from a juvenile military camp. Slipping into a fatherly role, David attempts to make the best out of the uncomfortable situation, pushing himself as a grand paternal figure, much to the disdain of Michael. Trying to convince his mentally challenged girlfriend, Kelly (Amber Heard), that David is nothing but trouble, Michael sneaks around the house, hoping to gather enough clues to prove his theory. David, sensing he won’t find the idyllic life he craves with Susan’s family, becomes increasingly violent to protect his fragmented identity.

I suppose there wasn’t much to expect from The Stepfather, seeing how it ended up in the hands of director Nelson McCormick, who tore the cult legacy of “Prom Night” apart last year with his moronic second take. McCormick is studio-controlled puppet, not a director in the artistic sense of the word, and his stillborn pass on the material is unsurprisingly dismal. The 1987 picture wasn’t the most refined production, but it retained a dazzling ambiance of suspense, twisting the traditions of the slasher genre to discover fresh areas of psychological troublemaking. McCormick doesn’t share the same sense of adventure, instead piping in the stupidity once David spots Susan.

With a restrictive rating, McCormick can’t stretch out his imagination to depict David’s homicidal appetites. The film’s limited to vague menace and neutered acts of violence, most featuring David suffocating his victims in various ways. Since the feature isn’t permitted to play rough, McCormick gives up the hunt early and aims the film toward teen viewers, filling the soundtrack with tuneless emo-rock snoozers and keeping Heard and Badgley in various states of undress. Hey, if actual suspense can’t be summoned, cheesecake will always do the trick.

The flagrant and crude manipulation would digest easier if the two young stars could act. Instead, Badgley looks and sound like a heavily sedated version of Mark Wahlberg (Jill Schoelen was a much feistier teen killjoy), and Heard is atrocious in a role that requires nothing more from her than the ability to tie a bikini top. These two weren’t hired for their acting gifts, I understand, but they’re in charge of nurturing the mystery. Without a pair of lively, believable spoilers stepping in David’s way, there’s no reason to invest in the nonsense.

Walsh gives the killer dad role the old college try, but a plausible menace he is not. McCormick has an annoying habit of thickly underlining all of David’s misdeeds and predatory glances, making Stepfather more of a brazen cartoon experience, confusing Walsh’s concentration. It leads to a whopping bit of absurdity reserved for the standard-issue final showdown, which promises a sequel as our reward. With this cast and crew, it feels more like an act of intimidation.

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

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The Bush (Jr.) Administration has done away with The United States as we know it. Just elected to its 4th term (With Arnold Schwarzenegger as Vice), they have disbanded Congress, banned public nudity,and entered into wars with most of the world. Faced with a situation in which there are not enough soldiers, a re-animation virus is developed in a government laboratory. The virus breeches containment of course, and soon the entire laboratory is overrun with zombies. A team of marines is sent in to gain control; one is bitten and later dies inside a strip club named Rhino. When he awakes as a zombie he bites Kat, the star dancer, who is transformed into the walking dead – and becomes a better and more popular stripper than when she was alive. The rest of the girls come to realize that they will have to transform as well, or face the prospect of losing all their customers to Kat.

Written and directed by Jay Lee (Star Chicks, The Slaughter), Lee puts out an innovative and hilarious movie that received mixed reviews upon its release, and I am pleased that I gave it a shot. I was among the viewers who enjoyed the Bush satire a lot and enthused that Lee didn’t keep the zombie women hot, which is what I was expecting. On the contrary, as the film progresses the strippers become more and more corpse like. The patrons are a bit surprised at first but are soon huge fans of the zombie strippers and once there are a few of them, the club is a scene of absolute hedonism.

The violence is nice and gory, and often hilarious. The comedy is VERY silly, and had me wishing I had a few of my friends around to laugh with. There are a few instances when Lee attempts to show the parallels between philosophy and the ridiculous. The first time we see Kat (porn star, Jenna Jameson) she is reading from” The Complete Works of Frederick Nietzsche.” After she is dead she says “it makes so much sense now”. Obviously a shot at Nietzsche, but can be looked at in a number of other ways as well. I would suspect that he attempted to cut such a zany atmosphere with just the right amount of intelligence, and I though he succeeded nicely.

Kat still displays astounding talent even when dead so the club’s owner, Ian Essko (Robert Englund), lets her dance as opposed to losing his best girl. That first performance as a zombie is one of the top five scenes I have watched in a long time. Not the simple gyrating, ass shaking, standard stripper fare; but a very deliberate, engaging performance with her face, breasts, and hair streaked with blood. Not to mention the scorching track written by Billy White Acre. She maintains this sinister vibe throughout, becoming more evil and demonic with each following scene. Keep an eye out at the climax of the film (a girl on girl zombie fight) for her “weapon”. Absolutely hilarious!

This brings me to Lillith (portrayed by musician, Roxy Saint); she is the Goth of the group. I wasn’t really expecting her to develop quite as powerfully a she did. She was one of those characters that I didn’t even notice at first, and BOOM she just came up and blindsided me. She also enjoys a bit of the spotlight in a scene with Englund that had me in fits with laughter. The role of the greedy, dirt-bag club owner fit Robert Englund well even if his performance was very subdued, and he just doesn’t dig very deep to present the audience with a defined character. The potential was there, the acting was not.

I must say, this flick was a lot more fun than I had anticipated. I have grown tired of the plethora of zombie related movies, and this one was a refreshing romp. The stripper premise had me a little worried that Lee would have us looking at the nudity, so we wouldn’t see how bad a movie he wrote, I was pleasantly surprised to say the least. If campy humor, scantily clad zombie chicks, and a scorching soundtrack are your thing, then this is the movie for you!

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

The director must have been as impressed with Roxy Saint as I was, as he shot and directed her video that you can see here:

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Katie and Micah are a couple experiencing some strange events in their home; strange noises, lights turning off and on by themselves, and soft whispering in the middle of the night. This is not an odd occurrence for Katie — this kind of thing has been happening to her since she was a child. Some kind of entity has been following her all her life, no matter where she lives. But now she is with Micah, and this stubborn day trader is not gonna just sit back and let some “thing” come into his house and start scaring the shit out of them. He decides that he is going to take care of the problem himself, but in order to do so he needs to know what he is up against. He starts by purchasing a camera to start recording the things happening around the home, his hope being that by capturing any of the phenomena on film, then they will be better equipped to solve the problem. At first Katie is reluctant, thinking that this will just make the situation worse, but she consents and even lets Micah set the camera up to record them while they sleep. The camera captures paranormal activity almost immediately and Katie’s initial fears are validated as things do get worse. Much, much worse.

Paranormal Activity is the low-budget ghost story that I am sure you all are seeing the commercials for now. The fact that you may be seeing the film in a theater at all is a story in itself. Orin Peli shot PA a few years ago on a meager budget of $11,000 and in his own home. The film was shown at horror festivals and garnered very good responses leading to  Paramount eventually picking up the film for a possible remake. They later released the film to some college towns a few weeks ago. These sold out shows and viewer buzz led to Paramount giving the film a limited release in 12 theaters and watch it gross $77,000 in only midnight screenings. PA was then expanded to 159 theaters this weekend and as of October 8th, it had grossed $1.2 million. Paramount’s erection is now akin to a California Redwood and stated that if they received one million requests to PA released in their local theater, they would give it a nationwide release. That is exactly what happened. Staying true to their word, Paranormal Activity will open nationwide on Friday, October 16. So, is all the hype this film getting warranted?

Sort of. But I am afraid all the “scariest movie of all time” blurbing is doing a fairly effective horror film a dis-service by setting some very high expectations. Granted, tt is a nightmare scenario if you are believer of the supernatural or not. Preying on the fears we have all had at some point,  of an intruder in your home at night when you are at one of your most vulnerable states. The film works on different levels by exploiting the horror of having someone (or something) robbing your sense of security — being spied on while you lay huddled under your covers. Have you ever seen the time-lapse footage of someone sleeping? Showing how we all toss and turn throughout the night without ever realizing it? Imagine someone filming you in that fashion, only later when you watch the footage, a man walks into the room, stares at you for a few moments, then leaves. That’s Paranormal Activity.

Creating a slow build, Peli starts simple by lulling the viewer into believing we are watching a real couple by showing their interactions with each other. For the most part, Katie and Micah have a believable dynamic – even if I was often distracted by Katie’s magnificent rack because I am very juvenile.  The initial night footage begins the same way, the downhill rolling snowball beginning with a door moving, or the sound of footsteps. For something so simple, you will probably hear the audible gasps and whispers elicited from the audience whenever these events happen – proof that Peli has done a good job at selling the “real” aspect of this found footage. As the couple continues their self-investigation – including soliciting the help of a psychic and the introduction of a Ouija board – things start escalating to terrifying levels.

Some of you may agree with the “scariest film ever!!!” description. Some of you may be the audience member who gasp at the supernatural shenanigans Micah captures on film. But some of you may be like me. Sure, the night scenes were fairly effective and there were moments when I felt the chill created from watching something creepy. Putting myself in their shoes and wonder how I would handle waking up to the sound of something unseen whispering my name in my ear.  This is when PA is the most effective. Unfortunately, these scenes are separated by the day scenes consisting of the initially charming Micah and the very, very tolerant Katie as they bicker, discuss their situation, bicker, discuss their situation, bicker. I was not as sold by the pair as others seem to be and as the film rolled on I found Micah extremely irritating, Katie’s acting during her “really upset” or “really terrified” scenes too amateur and the actions the couple take so unbelievably dumb that it was hard for me to suspend disbelief and accept that this is “found footage” and not two actors.

But let me stress that I am a tough customer when it comes to being scared by film. My first viewing of Blair Witch did it, Session 9 did it and in some ways, so did PA. So while I may not have been as affected by this film as others seem to be, it is refreshing to see filmmakers like Peli go the less-is-more approach and show that a big-budget and elaborate special-effects are not needed to make a scary movie. Watching through the camera lens as Katie stands in place in the middle of the night,  staring at Micah as he slept, was far more scarier and effective than a zombie’s head exploding or a maniac slitting the throat of his victim. Things actually do go bump in the night, and it is something we have all experienced laying scared in your bed at some point in your lifetime but instead of attributing these sounds to a settling house or a noisy pipe, PA will undoubtedly have some of its viewers laying in bed at night thinking of the sinister shadow slinking in the corner, or preparing for cold  fingers reaching up from under the bed to lightly caress their cheek in the darkness. For that I give Paranormal Activity three-and-half  door slams in the middle of the night, out of five.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

I would also like to note how interesting this is about to be for horror movie lovers. PA has obviously struck a chord with audiences, and because of that the ultra low-budget film will now going up against The Stepfather remake and the sixth entry into the Saw franchise. Personally, regardless of how much I liked the film, that pleases me greatly and I hope it slaughters them both. So what did you think of PA? Was it as scary as the commercials led you to believe? Also, anyone want to make any bets on if it out performs the horror remake and the horror sequel on the 16th?

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Justine has just jumped up a few rungs on her school’s social ladder after being accepted into the leading clique that rules the halls of her school. Sure, in doing so she has had to make a couple sacrifices in the form losing two of her disappointed BFFs – but the trade off is worth it as now she gets to make fun of other people and let Alexis hide his sausage in her vagina. But all is not well within this nasty group of elitist, bullying pricks. Seems as if the one person who was the main target of their antics committed suicide recently. He was a large, passive and seemingly retarded Darren Mullet who was picked on relentlessly by Justine’s new group of friends. The bullying came in all forms. Physical attacks and humiliation as well as mental abuse and harassment via constant text messages and a public website that showed off their often filmed exploits. Darren decided this shit sucks and chose to stop his tormentors by removing himself from the equation at the end of a noose. But surprise, surprise, the gods have granted Darren life-after-death and he wastes no time using his zombie-like status to exact some revenge on his school chums.

Hmm…well it’s another miss for me as I sit through my second horror flick in recent days that failed to deliver the goods. And like Pig Hunt (our review), made even more frustrating in how such a seemingly easy premise is fumbled so badly. Tormented has a pretty good premise, especially with the topic of bullying, and it’s introduction into the electronic age, being such a high-profile topic of late. But the makers of Tormented choose not to make any type of deep statement about the subject, deciding to just use bullying as an easy set up for a revenge style slasher flick. And you know what? So be it – it’s as good a setup as any. But what makes Tormented such a big disappointment is not the fact that they went the easier, lazier route as much as they took that route and still failed to produce an enjoyable movie.

Things start off bad with the introduction all the characters you will be spending time with for the next 87 minutes. Within the first 20 minutes I wanted to step through the screen and beat them all senseless. Well, not April Pearson – I wanted to do something else with her entirely. But still, the acting is horrid aside from Alex Pettyfer who plays Bradley, the leader of the pack. Other than him the acting was on par with an episode of Saved by the Bell with equally cliched and annoying characters. All complexities of the teen social structure are stripped down and painted in the broadest of strokes. But like I stated before, big deal. While I would have liked to watch a halfway intelligent horror film, I go both ways.

Sigh. What is up with the annoying style of filming where the simple act of a camera moving down a crowded hallway, or moving throughout the crowd of a teen party, is stylized by randomly fast-forwarding, then slowing down, fast forwarding, slowing down while at the same time removing frames. I understand that after Donnie Darko featured this technique that everyone who makes a movie featuring a high school hallway needs to do the same, but please – leave it to the professionals. In Tormented, the multiple times they do this, it comes off glaringly amateur and awkward – like some jackass just got control of my remote.

One thing Jon Wright did get right was being able to illicit the feelings of hate from me towards Bradley and his crew. I did want to see the characters murdered. But the bad thing about this was that feeling included every single character in the film. This included the ones we are supposed to want to survive as well. While I disliked Darren’s tormentors, I disliked Darren even more. Alive or dead he looks and acts like the son of Full Metal Jacket’s Pvt. Pyle. Though we are suppose to believe otherwise by statement’s from his only friend and a suicide letter he wrote, flashbacks to when he was alive show him to be so dumb that I kept expecting the writers having him shouting “Frank and beans!” at random times. The only thing missing from his character was long ropes of drool hanging from his greasy, fat lips. And in death? ell he doesn’t fare any better. He is Darren the Schlubby Ghost, the lamest ghost of them all and I kid you not, he still uses his goddamn inhaler!

Admittedly, I did enjoy watching Darren do his thing – even if that did include a Death By Cannonball. And I’m not talking about the ones you shoot out of a cannon, but rather the kind you do in a swimming pool. But other than that, the deaths are the only redeeming thing about the movie. A few of the kills were done pretty well and include a head impalement, eye injury, decapitations, ripped of dicks, drownings, pencils through nose (one of the better ones), hands lopped off with a paper-cutter and stabbings. Too bad that in between these juicy dispatchings, you have to watch these dolts interact with each other. A budding romance between Justine and Alexis, rivalry between Alexis and Bradley, Justine’s ditching of her two close friends and of course the group trying to figure out what is going on.

All of this accompanied by one of the most annoying sound effects to accompany a cheap jump-scare in a movie. You ever try to scare someone or have someone scare you when in a quiet situation. You know, the lame act of grabbing them quickly and yelling? They do this in Tormented. They do it a lot. And I mean literally – the score features a woman yelling “AH!” whenever something unexpectedly scary happens and it is as silly as a ghost using an inhaler. But the rest of the music is alright, with tracks from the Desert Sessions, The Vines, Maps, and a Metric’s tune I dig called Monster Hospital (check out the video).

So if you are just a slasher completest like myself, then by all means check this out as you were probably going to anyway – just be sure to come back and share your thoughts. But for anyone looking for a good horror flick with a decent setup, look elsewhere. I give Tormented 2 pencils up the nose out of 5.

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

That's one tough looking bunch, huh?

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