Midnight Meat Train

Dir: Ryuhei Kitamura

Starring: Bradley Cooper

Leslie Bibb

Brooke Shields (I'm as surprised as you are)

& Vinnie Jones

Barker is back!!!! Just a quick quip.....this film is good -- no need to wait for the full review (which is coming soon).

Grizzly Rage

Dir: David DeCoteau

Starring: Tyler Hoechlin

Graham Kosakoski

Brody Harms

& Kate Todd

With a premise and story that could easily be whittled down to a thirty minute short film, Grizzly Rage stretches itself wafer thin -- only to deliver a remarkable number of zero key ingredients that are essential in composing a horror film. All you should be privy to is that there are scenes that literally go on for five to ten minutes where all a character does is look around a room. This could be acceptable if the footage were inner-cut with a disembowelment happening elsewhere, an obligatory sex scene, or a surprise spectral attack.

Instead of polluting your minds with the carrion that this film is passing off as a plot point, I, with no question, feel that you would be better off knowing my gripe I had when purchasing lunch at a local L&L the other day. Growing up in a family with a Hawaiian father, I have been known to hold a bit of a cavalier attitude when it comes to the island's native cuisine. In all sincerity, there is no better way to start off the day than with two scoop rice, two eggs -- over easy, white toast, and a plate of Portagee' sausage. If you don't know the latter menu item, you are sheltered and unfortunately missing out on a food that is one of the reasons I eat for sport, not nourishment. Which brings me to...

Strike one -- this establishment had no Portagee' sausage and therefore, could not provide me with the sandwich I was so desperately craving.

Strike two -- no manapua -- a staple in sustaining life.

Strike three -- this is a bit difficult because I never, ever, ever order katsu when I'm at a Hawaiian restaurant. Japanese style chicken fingers are usually the last thing from my mind, so the blame was partially on me for not getting Lau Lau or Kahlua Pig. But katsu is NOT hard to make. This nonsense was a.) over cooked, and b.) used with what seemed to be the remnants of Star Jones' sporadic weight loss. That's two to my one.

So, take that, and compare it to a jeep of frat-boys who accidently hit a baby grizzly bear, only to be stalked by its mother -- an indignant beast who has been genetically enhanced by local toxic waste disposal. Which would benefit you more? Knowing that tid bit of plot, or knowing to steer clear of the L&L in Portland off of 82nd in SE?

Friday the 13th

Dir: Marcus Nispel

Starring: *No one you've heard of or care to remember*

Derek Mears

Jared Padalecki

Danielle Panabaker

Amanda Righetti

Travis Van Winkle

and...

a slew of dunces who fall victim to the world's scariest developmentally disabled Mama's boy.

There are two different types of horror movie geek. There are those whose requirements include exposed flesh, buckets of bodily fluids, unearthed crimson bathed organs, and a handful of idiotic dialogue. The other breed of gore hound wishes to find a message underneath the above listed requirements (save the bad dialogue). And since I consider myself one of the latter, I have no problem correcting anyone and everyone who is asking the question, "How much thought can there be in fueling a story of a merciless, machete wielding, teenager skewering, malformed sociopath who fell off the short bus?" -- Plenty. If a horror movie works, it works on a subconscious level. If it doesn't work, it is because the true art and message behind the film is not coming through. And unfortunately, the reason why this specific genre has received a bad wrap over the years is because of piles of cinematic carrion like this Friday the 13th pre-se-reboot-quel.

Iconic horror villains need motivation. They need a reason to disembowel, dismember, maim, and kill. Despite popular belief, they do not act on psychosis alone. If they do not carry out their duties with motivation, they add fuel to the horror-hating fire. The biggest problem with this latest Friday the 13th installment has to be it's villain's motivation (more accurately--a lack thereof). "Did Jason ever have motivation?", I hear a nasally squeak punch through from the back of the room, the section reserved for the everyday movie viewer. To which I respond -- Technically no. His mother did -- avenging the death of her son who drowned at the feet of horny, misdirected camp counselors. But when Jason came back for the sequels, his murderous drive slowly morphs from mommy issues to a territorial problem before dissipating completely (a common path taken by sequels). And since he has no motivation, it becomes easier to root for the dismemberment of one-dimensional, drunken, drug addled, sex craved teenagers and not question it. It's an inevitability that is accompanied by fake breasts and inane dialogue, and we have been fortunate enough to view it through the cracks of our nervous fingers.

Now that Friday the 13th has put me on the gore train without any message, I might as well enjoy myself, right? And so I note that Derek Mears says more with one eyeball than any other Jason before him, a chance to show a perfectly engineered pair of boobies is not wasted in death, and Jason's use of campers as bait really does make for a satisfying slaughter (an unfortunate slut is dangled over a campfire, trapped in her sleeping bag -- Oh the symbolism!).

There are life lessons hidden behind the masks and butcher knives of our favorite movie killers; they have a universal agenda. But even when the gold hearted virgin gets it in the end, where in lies the message? The good don't even stand a chance now? I understand the don't screw/ don't partake in recreational use of mind altering substances/ don't ignore a child in need morals, but damn, I can't even breathe now? According to Marcus Nispel and Michael Bay (die already!), as long as Jason's around, no one's safe. It kind of makes me wish they had killed him properly the first time.

Coraline

Dir: Henry Selick

Starring: Dakota Fanning

Teri Hatcher

Robert Bailey Jr.

Ian McShane

Keith David

The amount of directors that practice the autuer style of film making has become frighteningly scarce. No longer is the medium of film a privileged source of artistic expression for those who are crazy enough to man the helm. It is in this dismal detection that movies with no compelling mise-en-scene are delivered again and again like some sort of possessed vegetation that keeps reproducing. That is why Henry Selick comes as a breath of fresh air. The man is consistent in producing works that carry such intricate detail within the frame that I have to question his anal retentive sanity.

However...

Whereas Coraline is one intensely beautiful piece of work that will hold up next to Selick’s previous animated wonders, it suffers from an extreme case of faddish meticulousness.

No one can deny that Coraline is one magnificent piece of animated cinema. There are moments that even border on superhuman. To try and deconstruct how one man can direct a team of people to create such a mind-blowing outcome is beyond my comprehension. The film is stunning. And even though the visual complexity of this movie is unlike anything you have ever seen, it comes on like a wave of saturation that your brain might not be able to handle. Speaking as an admirer of aesthetically intense cinema, I had a hard time not thinking "Wow, I wonder how they did that", every few minutes. It became less about telling an interesting (and frightening) tale and more about showing off what the LAIKA production house is capable of with the right director and the right amount of money.

Never establishing well enough its target audience, Coraline would have benefitted from going full force one way or the other. The film is by no means a children's movie, nor is it frightening enough for adults. Knowing full well what Selick is capable of, I would have liked to have seen the man really stretch himself to his fear limit (the largest bit of disturbing imagery came from a very supple bust line, courtesy of Miss Forcible). And even though I posses a never ending thirst for all things horrific and terrifying, I can recognize the fact that the movies marketed to children when I was young undoubtedly scared the hell out of each and every one of us-- one could even make the connection that these films spawned my obsession with the macabre. Since I was fortunate enough to grow up in the same time period that produced gems such as Labyrinth and The Dark Crystal, I have a high standard for movies geared towards those vexatious little vermin we refer to as "children". And whereas Coraline won't make your kids soil themselves, at least it will get them to shut up for an hour and a half.

The Lost Boys II: The Tribe

Dir: P.J. Pesce

Starring: Tad Hilgenbrink

Angus Sutherland

Autumn Reeser

Corey Feldman

When did the mythology of the undead become null and void in the creation process of vampire cinema? The folklore behind these creatures is so deep with subtext and symbolism that one would think that they would be able to be put the “vampire” into any atmosphere and have its message radiate throughout the landscape with resounding fear. Lost Boys II: The Tribe proves that even the most sacred of monsters can in fact be tainted by a generation that carries a lust for extreme sports and a short attention span.

If I were to peel back the layers of carrion that are used to create this hideous display of  uninspiring cinema (and I use that term reluctantly as this droll should not even be in the same category), I would more than likely find enough contrived dialogue, nonsensical plot points, and unmotivated cinematic techniques to cover a barren wall with straight to DVD releases. This thing has it all; orphaned teenagers, unmotivated T n’ A (is T n’ A every truly motivated?), a cast constructed of look-a-likes and the overly eager who can’t act to save their lives, and a fist full of cool for cooless sake.     

I would like to know what part of any of this sounds appealing, because somebody was feverishly praying for a group of midnight surfing, movie quoting, Mountain Dew fueled bros turned vampires to be lead through a series of improbable scenarios while documenting it on their handheld JVC camcorder. If this isn’t enough to satisfy you, there is and extremely unnerving amount of statutory rape promotion. Apparently age doesn’t matter when you’re partner is immortal. He has enough experience for both of you. High Five!

The original Lost Boys took a timeless monster and made it contemporary, all the while keeping the theme of the vampire alive within the frame. The uncomfortable transition from adolescence to adulthood rings throughout the piece, where as in the sequel, no message is present to try and make this tale worth saving. I would like to see this movie as its own entity; as if its predecessor didn’t exist, but if it stands on its own, and the message is there, I’m having a hard time sifting through all the waste to find it.