A Meditation on the Greatest Revenge Film Ever Made

Walking up and down the dismal aisles of a Shopko in the northwestern United States. Fucking work, fucking cracking down on the fucking dress code. Fuck-diddly-doo. Twenty Four Dollar shoes-all black, slip and skid proof. Water proof shoe spray-half price with the cost of one pair of shoes. Why not? As I line up on the register, a modest selection of discount dvds glistens under the florescent light. Weekend at Bernie's II-I can live without it. Splash-no fuckin' thanks. Porky's-already have it. But, wow. They've got some items from Anchor Bay. What a cool ass distribution company. Do they distribute bad movies? Beastmaster, Repo Man, Heathers, Evil Dead II, Manhunter. Anchor Bay is cool. Apparently they distributed Class of 1984-the greatest revenge film ever made. Apparently it is 6.99 at a god damned Shopko in the northwestern United States. Sold. I haven't seen Class of 1984 in a long time. I remember it being something like Mad Max meets Grease. I hate it when people describe music or movies in terms of x meets y, but that is what Class of 1984 is like...sort of. I remember it had a relatively forgettable theme song by Alice Cooper (after he went solo. That's right he used to be Vincent Furnier, and was the lead singer of the BAND Alice Cooper. He split and took the name for his own.) But, fuck all that music trivia horseshit. We're here to fucking talk about a revenge movie god damnit. So, anyway, the movie's kind of melodramatic, at least enough for Lloyd Kaufman (high in the runnings for the greatest American that ever lived) to make fun of it with Class of Nuke 'em High. Melodramatic, but ridiculous and cathartic enough to make you shit your pants...with joy. Andy Norris, played by Perry King, is an optimistic music teacher newly employed at an inner city high school that, foreshadowing "High School High" by nearly a decade has security guards, metal detectors and one booming drug trade. Mark Lester really predicted the future-they actually have security guards and metal detectors in high schools these days. Probably. Just like Kraftwerk predicting cyber sex in 1983 with "Computer Love." Incredible. In any case, the school is overrun by a neo-nazi gang of drug slinging ruthless punks headed up by a talented, yet utterly despicable a-hole named Peter Stegman (Timothy Van Patten.) Roddy McDowell (Fright Night, Planet of the Apes, The fucking Lassie movies) plays a science teacher that perfectly embodies the paranoid anomie of the school. He is, of course, a closet drinker and carries a gun to work. Really my favorite scene of the whole movie is Rowdy Roddy McDowell at his wit's end pointing a gun at his students and forcing correct answers out of them. What a fucking genius.
The pranks directed toward newcomer Andy Norris start out as small inconveniences, but escalate to being framed for assault, and the rape of his wife. The disciplinary force of the institution being so utterly weak, he is forced to take the law into his own hands. Two words: Table Saw...
Yeah, it's a pretty ballsy movie being socially diagnostic and to this day it remains pretty damn shocking. As to being the greatest revenge movie ever made, a contentious point I admit, but I think it demonstrates four supreme anchors for a revenge film better than Dirty Harry, Kill Bill, Carrie, or whatever. Firstly, there's the weak institution that you normally look to for controlling bad situations whose ineffectiveness forces the law to be taken into the hands of an unlikely vigilint. Bingo. You have the malevolence and backstabbery of the gang. They need their just desserts, bad. These are evil, neo-nazi, hate mongering turds that proudly sell drugs that make you so uncontrollably high and insane that you might climb to the top of a large flag pole, make some attempt at an elevated salute, and fall to your death. Fuck! You could say they have it coming. Thirdly, there's the actual carrying out of the revenge which is unforgettable, gross, brutal, creative and cathartic. Andy Norris kills a gang member with a table saw. Holy shit. And lastly, a certain moral ambiguity characteristic of the god damn death penalty controversy. So there you have it. Class of 1984. A winner. We are the future. You can't stop us. Don't even try.

Also recommended:

Class of Nuke 'em High (1986)

Repo Man (1984)

Return of the Living Dead (1985)

Death Wish 2 (1982)

Have Bullshit, Will Share

It has been quite the hiatus from the blogosphere. I've been busy stumbling down the beaten path to a BA in philosophy and slinging greasy food at senior citizens and drunk idiots. That doesn't mean I didn't spend the majority of the month of October in front of the tube soaking in copious amounts of horror flicks. I am inclined to dish out the bullshit on two in particular-"The Human Centipede" and "Pumpkinhead."

Now, I've been watching "Pumpkinhead" about once a year for like ten years. It's a fucking winner for sure. An ole standby. But, "The Human Centipede", now what an insane god damned sick and twisted pile of depraved trash. Trash, mind you, not to be mistaken with garbage. Trash makes life worth living whereas garbage doesn't always do so much for you. It's 2010 and a horror movie exists that can make Eli Roth puke. Alas there is faith in humanity.

Essentially, what I'd like to do here is use these two films as vehicles for comparison between the then (the 80's) and now for horror movies, providing informal reviews for both along the way.
Let's start with Pumpkinhead. It's makeup artist extraordinaire Stan Winston's (known for doing everything from Aliens to Wrong Turn) directoral debut. The effects are fucking awesome. We would expect that from one member of the holy trinity of horror makeup artists namely, Rick Baker, Tom Savini and then of course Stan Winston. So, errr yeah the effects kick ass. Drrrr. But, what is really surprising (I guess) is Winston's fucking stylistic command over the whole thing. Most of the movie takes place in the dark. Everything is enveloped in these creepy tints of red and orange. Even the soundtrack which sounds like it could be the backdrop for Steven Segal's bouncing mullet and who-needs-a-sixpack-when-you-got-a-keg gut doesn't bring down or take you away from the impeccible atmosphere. The majority of the performances from the actors really aren't all that terrific. But, the central character of Ed Harley played by Lance Henrikson is so good, deep and believable that you kind of forget about other actors' mailed in performances.
The plot has the good old fashioned scare the shit out of you around the campfire feel to it. Ed Harley owns a modest convenience store in the middle of nowhere in an agricultural community somewhere in America. His son is accidentally run over by dirtbikers who, for the most part, flee the scene for fear of the consequences. Ed is stricken with pain and anger and seems to recall from his youth a witch named Haggis (kind of a dumb name for a witch...I don't know whatever) who lives in the mountains and can provide you with vengeance...and then some. She summons a gnarley ass humanoid creature to come out of the ground and pick off the wrongdoers one by one. Ed realizes he's in too deep when he notices an intense psychic connection to the horrifying demon as it slays the perps. There's not a whole lot he can do to stop what he had initiated. All in all, it's a terrific scary story, an unbelievably cool monster, Lance Henrikson at the top of his game, and a great atmosphere to serve as a backdrop. It's one of the finest horror flicks of the 80's because it stands out amongst the overall geist of most of its contemporaries.
So let's talk about the geist of 80's horror movies. Pumpkinhead was released in 1988. It is truly the end of an era as Gorbachev's Perestroika was officially in motion. The last oomph of the War on Drugs' idiotic drain on American taxes was escalated by Reagan right as he was coming out of office in cenile stupor. And after the stock market crash a year before, the prevalent social phenomenon of yuppies was on its way out. The 80's for horror movies was kind of an interesting time. You could make a horror movie essentially about anything and have anywhere between nine and thirteen sequels. How many god damned "Silent Night Deadly Night" sequels were there? Christ. It was truly a time of franchise for the horror movie industry. It was the first time in history that stylized mass murderers such as Jason Vorhees and Freddy Kruger were household names. Horror movies didn't really take themselves too seriously in the 80's either. There were always lots of one liners, sophomoric humor, admittedly cheesy special effects, endless rip offs of Gremlins (Critters was by far the best) and most of all gratuity. The corpus of 80's horror flicks seems to embody the pattern of all of these characteristics, and how many times did Jason kill some chick who thought it would be a good idea to strip down and take a shower in the midst of trying to escape a murderous rampage? I'm tellin' yuh. But, "Pumpkinhead" is different. It's kind of timeless in a way. It's not all that cheesy and gratuitous. The music and the look of the youngsters is really the only reminder you have that it's from the 80's because everything else-plot, effects, execution are done in a timeless manner. Not even the utterly gratuitous sequel can make it appear to be a part of the gratuitous franchise aesthetic of its contemporaries. Pumpkinhead is a classic. It has a kick ass monster, genuinely creepy undertones, and a fantastic plot that takes you straight to the headspace of sitting 'round the campfire. It is terrific. But, you don't have to take my word for it.

Now, for Tom Six's "The Human Centipede." This movie is like a substantial glob of Dave's Insanity Sauce. It hurts, but god damn it is good. The plot isn't all that complex. A couple of ditsy American tourists get a flat tire in the middle of Europe. Lacking in practical knowledge, they cannot change the tire themselves. They wander onto the nearest residence where one unscrupulous demented German surgeon, who separated one too many pairs of siamese twins, named Dr. Heiter played fantastically by Dieter Laser lives. Next thing the tourists know they've been rufied and are guinea pigs in a little experiment in reconstructive surgery. I shit you not (pun definitely intended) the tourists are sewn anus to mouth roughly resembling a centipede. Now that is fucked up. But, this flick has a lot that the original Texas Chainsaw had going for it. In fact, there are quite a few parallels. Plotwise it is quite similar. It bolsters a disturbing documentary style filming that strays into utter cinematic mayhem a lot like Hooper's masterpiece. It captures that intense awful proximity with the antagonists just like TCM did. In any case, Dieter Laser is perfect as the demented surgeon. He is just the right amount of campy and genuinely disturbingly psychotic for the role. That's actually this whole movie-just the right amount of campy and genuinely disturbing. With this movie in the bag, Dieter Laser must already be a living cult film legend.

And, it came out in 2010. The economy is deep in the shitter. President Hope and Change is eating out of the hands of the financial industry, and we have seen the rise of the Tea Party-Jesus supports your right to an AK. He said so in the Constitution...oh wait. Can't someone tell Christine O'Donnell that it prevents prostate cancer too by the way? Thanks. Ok, ok but what about the horror movies of our time. Where the 80's was the age of the franchise, we now live in the age of the remake. It is apparent that we are all out of ideas in Hollywood, and have thus embarked on a project to remake any successful horror flick that is more than fifteen years old. It's either the remake or it's just the wow-that's-really-a-shitty-way-to-die aesthetic of Hostel and Saw. And, holy shit. The Human Centipede stands out. That's what is so exciting about it. It's so bizarre that you can't deem it anything but original. It's more depraved than Hostel and Saw combined. When the landscape of horror is permeated by recycling, we've obviously become pretty desensitized. Tom Six seems to have said, "Fuck all of that. Here's something that will make you uncomfortable!" And if it doesn't, maybe you have separated too many Siamese twins yourself.

WHY?!!! I LIKE THE MISERY, I LIKE THIS WOOOOOOOOOORLLLLD!!!!!!!!

Yep, the title of this blog entry comes to us from the opening voice-over narration of Fender Tremolo (I shit you not that's his name)-the monstrously grotesque villain played by Vincent Klyn in "Cyborg". "Cyborg" is a Golan-Globus produced Mad Max rip off starring Jean Claude Van Damme.

Two common features of movies that suck are: severely below-average performances from the cast of characters; and 90% of its narrative conveyed in the form of awkward flashback sequences. Both of these indicative characteristics are blatantly observable in Albert Pyun's "Cyborg."Indeed, this movie probably sucks when broken down and analyzed critically. It also has enough gratuitous violence to make Tipper Gore's head spin for all eternity, however there's really something happening on screen that somehow managed to hold my attention from start to finish. It must have been the the high quality fight scenes which are incredibly well executed and paced such that you get one an average of every five minutes. Naturally, this film belongs beyond the boundaries of traditional smug analytical criticism. Why? Well, let me make the argument that "Cyborg" functions as an exploitation film rather than a regular movie and should not be judged based on what we judge regular movies by. It should be judged on the quality of what its exploiting. I will also argue that Golan and Globus are the greatest non-traditional exploitation wizards of the 80's (even though no one would really conceive of Golan and Globus as much more than two entrepenuers from the 80's that hardly anyone gives a shit about now or then.)

Concerning its fight scenes (the factor of exploitation that it generously offers), it is indeed a kind of exploitation film in its own right. Not in the traditional sense of say, "Olga's Girls" or "Ilsa: She Wolf of the SS", but it essentially displays the same features of an exploitation flick. It serves as a prime example of what we shall call stuntsploitation for all intensive purposes. The plot, characters, acting, soundtrack etc. are all put forth posterior to the pretty jaw dropping stunts just as the plot, characters, acting, soundtrack etc. are all mere secondary vehicles for massive amounts of nudity, fetishism and violence in the above mentioned seminal exploitation classics.

The plot, just to reveal how secondary it really is, is as follows: It is the post-apocalypse set somewhere in America. There is a plague. A female cyborg contains the cure in her cyberkinetic hardware. She must be taken to Atlanta to deliver the cure. She is kidnapped by a crazy-eyed post apocalyptic pirate named Fender Tremolo. She is lucky enough to have Jean Claude come to the rescue and kick the living shit out of Fender and his gang as he is seeking vengeance against them after having murdered his family. Sounds pretty standard. It is.

But, what is primary? Asskickery and the corresponding aesthetic thereof. The final fight scene which occurs after Jean Claude has somehow managed to escape being crucified (literally, crucified...in the biblical sense) and is pissed, exemplifies what "Cyborg" is all about. The lighting has a sort of neon blue tint to it and every one is getting down to the showdown with dark shadows enveloping their faces. Very intense. We hear the epic cries of a Casio synthesizer as if it were channeling the power of Ares-the Greek God of war. It is windy and raining heavily. The Muscles from Brussels fires an arrow to the ground and we get a close up of the despicable band of abhorrent post apocalyptic pirates one by one. Fuck, the costume design for this flick is awesome. Chain mail, mullets, mohawks, capes. The villains look like late 80's video game characters. A roaring showdown ensues and it is epic. JCVD does what he does best- grunts a lot and kicks people in the face, and to inject morality into it all... these guys have it coming.

So, the plot might be tried and true, the acting sucks, and 90% of the narrative occurs in the form of awkward flashback sequences, Albert Pyun still manages to pull off what the audience wants out of a Jean Claude Van Damme movie with supreme stylistic command, and that is violence. Thus, if we can judge this movie based on its factor of exploitation, this factor does well and keeps you watching and entertained regardless of its lacking in other areas.

This sort of thing (the characteristics of exploitation films) is the back bone of Golan and Globus- two Israeli cousins who bought The Cannon Group in 1979 and, following in the foot steps of Roger Corman, decided to buy bad scripts, produce them, and ultimately make a profit. They produced movies, although often lacking in plot and characters, but with something to exploit with style whether it be breakdancing, Chuck Norris kicking people, Van Damme kicking people, Micheal Dudikov kicking people, or Charles Bronson seeking vengeance. Golan and Globus have produced everything from Breakin' 1 and Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo to the Death Wish sequels. Thank you, Golan-Globus for you revived the exploitation ethic for the late Cold War era and fostered movies that could succeed without the traditional obstructions of plot, characters and overall screenwriting.

If you want to watch a great example of what Golan Globus productions were all about and to revel in the nostalgia of a beautifully executed late 80's sci-fi aesthetic as well as some adrenalin rousing asskickery, then "Cyborg" is the movie for you.

The Melvins keep on killing it!

Alas! I have just returned from Seattle whereupon I travelled to revel in the gospel of Buzzo, Jared, Kody, and Dale. The Showbox in Seattle right down on Pike St. is simply terrific as a venue. Melvins people are among the coolest of metal show attendees. The mosh pit was out of this world, but managed to maintain a good vibe whereas a Slayer or Motorhead show generally draws a terrifying blitzkrieg of violent aggression. What this has to do with movies? Nothing. Except, according to Diablo Cody (screenwriter of "Juno") those who enjoy the films of Herschell Gordon Lewis also are Melvins fans. I am both a fan of Lewis and the Melvins and I don't appreciate these prized entities being name dropped in a movie containing more than six Kimya Dawson songs on the soundtrack...cringe. In any case, the Melvins killed it and Buzzo is God.

He who controls the spice, controls the universe

Apparently David Lynch was considered for the direction of "Return of the Jedi." Instead he went for "Dune" as his huge budgeted sci-fi movie. I'm glad he did because it gave him control of the screenplay as well directorial duties whereas "Return of the Jedi" would have offered only one of these. We can only imagine what Lynch would have done for the third Star Wars movie and in a parallel universe somewhere, maybe, there is the Lynch-directed "Return of the Jedi." The ewoks probably turned out to be a lot less annoying. But, that's really not important. In fact, fuck getting all Schrodinger's Cat on this shit. Let's fucking talk about Dune. Hey, best fucking idea you've had all night.

I came home drunk last night and popped in the David Lynch version of the adaptation of Frank Herbert's classic novel. It is striking, epic, brilliant, compelling and worthy of just about any congratulatory adjective that I can think of for all intensive purposes of describing a kick ass sci-fi movie from the 80's. I was awake for the first twenty minutes, but passed out in the ol' recliner as its rapturous narrative unfolded. I made sure to finish it, re-watching the first twenty minutes because they left such an impression of otherworldly coolness upon my drunken slumber. It then dawned on me that a lot of people hate this movie, especially devotees of David Lynch and of Frank Herbert's book. I can't imagine why. It's pretty fucking kick ass. So, I've decided to address some of the stock critical complaints about this movie in order to try and figure out just what in the hell is actually wrong with it, if anything (I really don't think anything is.)

A lot of people bitch about Lynch's screenplay claiming that it's hollow and untrue to the book. It's too different from the book for people who have read it and for people who haven't, it makes no sense. Well, first of all, is it really that hollow? There are quite a few classic lines in the screenplay peppered with just the right amount of sci-fi camp. In the right mood, if you're smoking the right weed, they'll fucking do. Oh will they ever. Were we expecting the neurotic witty wordsmithery of Woody Allen? No, its set eight thousand fucking years in the future. The characters are naturally going to be hard to identify with. They've had a fucking minimum of shared life experiences with people born 1940-2000. Okay, so the screenplay isn't true to the book. It really isn't. Lynch took some serious liberties. Since when is this a bad thing? If you've already read the book why the fuck would you want a verbatim experience? Just fucking read the book over again. The movie offers something new. It offers a unique interpretation of the unbelievably solid plot that could only come from David Lynch. Nobody bitches about how far Stanley Kubrick strayed from the book with his screenplay for "The Shining." Discounting Stephen King... "Dune" as a film functions in the same way. They both bring to the table some really cool psychedelic undertones and they take their liberties with the already solid stories to provide a unique interpretation. Ohhhh you know give the viewer something only they could really offer as screenwriters being of the genius caliber. As far as people who haven't read "Dune" and can't follow the plot-...pay attention. It makes sense as long as you focus your attention on it. Even if you don't it makes a lot more sense than most David Lynch movies. It's no more hard to grasp than "Lost Highway". It's not a bad thing to have to focus on a deeper level while watching a movie. It draws you in further and generally makes it more enjoyable assuming entertainment is to be considered a diversion.

Another common complaint is that "Dune" is dated. The special effects, the soundtrack by ToTo-a band that is no longer cool to like (assuming it was ever cool to like ToTo...) So, the special effects are dated? Well, be that as it may, they look a hell of a lot better than most CGI gangbangs of the last ten years. This came out in 1984. Compare the special effects to special effect landmarks made around the same time such as "Alien", Carpenter's "The Thing" and "Star Wars." The special effects in "Dune" stand up pretty well. The sandworms certainly don't look like bosses on X-box games like they inevitably would if "Dune" were to be made again in this decade (Please God, no.) So why all the fuss about d8ed fx bro?

ToTo. If you were to entirely omit the band name from the credits, I doubt anyone would hear the soundtrack and guess that it was recorded by ToTo. It's actually a pretty damned good epic sci-fi opus with minimal cheesed out power chord crunches that ToTo puts out there. Plus they collaborate with Brian Eno. It certainly sounds nothing like "Hold the Line" or "Africa" that's for sure. Once again, compare the soundtrack to other soundtracks of the day that were recorded by popular rock bands (customary of big budget 80's movies): Queen's soundtrack to "Highlander" and "Flash Gordon", Vangelis' soundtrack to "Chariots of Fire"...ToTo's soundtrack to "Dune" is way less dated sounding than these particular ones. And, what's wrong with a little datedness anyway? It can really be an endearing quality.

"Dune" has a great futuristic look, ridiculously cool camerawork, surreal undertones, plenty of action, colorful characters (hats off to Kenneth McMillan as Baron Harkonnen.) This movie takes you places, especially when you're baked. It is what it is. It was quite a task to bring it to the screen and even if Lynch himself is fervently unsatisfied with his efforts, he brought a killer interpretation of the novel to the screen in his own distinct, delightfully bizarre style.