All posts by Rod Lott

1408 (2007)

In 2007, it was nice to see a Stephen King adaptation at an actual movie theater again, where they belong, instead of the watered-down, overlong miniseries that played several nights on network TV and basic cable. It was also nice to see it contain actual scares, surviving the transition from its source material intact.

1408 comes from King’s 1992 short-story collection, Everything’s Eventual: 14 Dark Tales. As King notes in his introduction, it was never meant to be an actual story, but an example of how writing progresses from draft to draft. For whatever reason, he finished it, and it’s one of Eventual’s many highlights. It’s easy to see why it was handpicked for big-screen treatment, and its modest success — combined with Frank Darabont’s The Mist later that year — helped usher in another wave of quality King films still going semi-strong more than a decade later.

John Cusack stars as Mike Enslin, a writer of several midlist books on haunted places. He’s working on one for hotels, rating each on a scare scale of one to 10 skulls. In his research, he’s found that supposed ghost-infested bed-and-breakfasts are just a way to drum up business. That will all change with his stay in room 1408 at New York’s Dolphin Hotel — a room perennially kept unoccupied for a reason: 56 occupants have died in it, none lasting for more than an hour.

Or, as the Dolphin manager (Samuel L. Jackson) puts it, the room is “fucking evil.”

Once inside, Mike’s stay starts off innocently enough: unexplained mints on the pillow, blared Karen Carpenter from the clock radio. But soon, actual bodily harm comes to him, and the clock starts providing a handy 60-minute countdown toward his apparent doom. With a barrage of spirits and phenomena and other things that go bump in the dark, it’s like The Shining compressed into one compact suite.

While King’s original story of the same name is structured roughly into thirds — before, during and after Mike’s stay — most all of the film is concerned with the during. Granting the tale an ominous touch, King relates the goings-on in the room not as they happen, but only afterward, via whatever details Mike left on his voice recorder.

What he doesn’t say makes our imagination run wild. But movies being visual, 1408 shows all, and some of it is very creepy. With the film more or less being confined to one space, Mikael Håfström does a great job of concocting more and more things to make Mike’s night a living hell. Although it includes all of the shocks of the story, it has to expand upon it in order to hit feature-length, adding a subplot about Mike’s ex-wife (Deep Impact’s Mary McCormack) and dead daughter to help fulfill that.

Hope you like Cusack, because the entire movie is on his shoulders. If he weren’t such a talented actor, we’d want to check out of 1408 early. But he makes the skeptic Mike likable, believable and sympathetic. As much as the moviegoer in us likes to see him go through the ringer, we feel bad for him all the same. In fact, parts of the film are real downers, but that just means it works.

The movie’s not perfect, mostly because of maybe two too many false endings. But it’s a smart and stylish chiller/thriller — everything that Håfström’s previous film, Derailed, was not. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Bleeding Skull! A 1990s Trash-Horror Odyssey

While the rest of the country meme-watches its way through the Friends reunion special, the true ’90s nostalgia awaits in the Fantagraphics-published Bleeding Skull! A 1990s Trash-Horror Odyssey.

The long-awaited, much-anticipated sequel to Joseph A. Ziemba and Dan Budnik’s Bleeding Skull! A 1980s Trash-Horror Odyssey, unleashed to molten minds by Headpress in 2013, this sophomore (and proudly sophomoric) follow-up gives ink to the absolute oddest of no-budget obscurities video stores had to offer, most shot on VHS camcorders. With jackers, crystal forces, death metal zombies, psycho sisters, killer clowns, killer nerds and mad scientists named Dr. Kill, the contents are every bit worth the brand’s fractured exclamation point.

This time, Budnik is nowhere to be found, replaced by Annie Choi and Zack Carlson, whose styles meld better with Ziemba’s. (Please note that’s not a slam on Budnik, whose 2017 book, ’80s Action Movies on the Cheap: 284 Low Budget, High Impact Pictures, is a howlingly funny must-have for every B-movie enthusiast’s library.) The trio’s tag-teamed intro states these virtually unseen movies are deserving of cheers, not sneers … even if the 250 reviews don’t quite carry out this credo, as many flicks are most decidedly mocked — with exuberant affection, but mocked nonetheless.

After all, it’s not until the 10th entry (Asylum of Terror) that readers will arrive at anything resembling a “good” review, albeit one in which Ziemba writes, “no one appearing on-screen seems to understand that they’re being filmed.”

Of course, Bleeding Skull! wouldn’t be the tremendously fun read it is without the writers’ often brutal — and brutally hilarious — observations:
Bad Karma: “The design is one part Etsy, three parts Dollar General.”
Bloodscent: “The music is the finest junior varsity jock rock that western Pennsylvania has to offer.”
Blood Slaves: “Looks like it was cast at a baseball card shop.”
The Laughing Dead: “If a pair of slit wrists got together to make a movie, it would be this one.”
Psycho Pike: “If you like to watch people drive around in a Jeep Wrangler, Psycho Pike is your movie.”
The Witching: “The Witching is a saxophone kicking in for 64 minutes straight.”

More or less escaping ire are the DIY directors whose filmographies number beyond “1.” For example, the authors’ collective championing of the Polonia brothers (one of whom provides the foreword) nears idolatry. Fervent enthusiasm also falls to the Jesus-influenced gore of Todd Sheets, the “monstah” movies of David “The Rock” Nelson and the infidelity-themed slashers of Tim Ritter. Not so much for Todd Cook, whose prolificness is overshadowed by his stream-of-semiconsciousness works’ puerility. No matter where the opinions fall, however, the book is never not informative or entertaining; never before has so much thought been placed on explaining why choking is the laziest of murder methods.

No rave for this book is complete without praise for who may be considered its fourth author: designer Keeli McCarthy. With an aesthetic heavy on Magic Markers, highlighters and the purposeful cut-and-paste sloppiness of zines, her design is more aligned with Carlson’s seminal (and sadly out-of-print) Destroy All Movies!!! The Complete Guide to Punks on Film than Bleeding Skull!’s aforementioned ’80s edition. Either way, it’s now in glorious, garish full color. —Rod Lott

Like shot-on-video movies themselves, taking in A 1990s Trash-Horror Odyssey all at once could be overkill — or simply unfortunate, since we’re eight years away from A 2000s Trash-Horror Odyssey if the current between-books gap between holds. If Camp Blood of all things can get 10 installments, I hold out hope Bleeding Skull! at least merits a third. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Beneath Us (2019)

With Beneath Us, the genius lie entirely in the pun of the title. First-time feature director Max Pachman’s slice of immigrationsploitation leaves subtlety out of the picture, despite the resonance and seriousness of its premise.

Four undocumented workers — including brothers Alejandro and Memo — are hired by the über-wealthy, über-voluptuous Mrs. Rhodes (Lynn Collins, X-Men Origins: Wolverine) to finish construction on a guest home at a bargain-basement price. The property she shares with her husband (James Tupper, 2017’s Totem) is well-fortified, cut off from the rest of the world and all its promise with an electric fence. Forced to work day and night with no rest until the job is done, the workers too slowly realize they’re not going to be allowed to leave alive, what with the underground cavern of hired hands past.

To call the bosses are “racist” is to undersell their cruelty, which is hardly a one-off; Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes are essentially serial killers with the highest credit limit possible on a Home Depot credit card. The longer the job takes, the crazier Mrs. Rhodes gets, which is both the film’s greatest asset and liability. From the first scene, Pachman takes care to set up the troubled family dynamics of Alejandro (Rigo Sanchez, TV’s Animal Kingdom) and Memo (Josue Aguirre, Incarnate), then play them out … until he allows Tupper and especially Collins to approach their parts from rail No. 3.

Make no mistake: Collins is enormous fun in an utterly unhinged performance, but her Karen-to-the-nth-degree antics distract from the movie’s message even more than her push-up bra. It’s difficult to make politics stick in horror when your antagonist vamps and tramps her way through what amounts to a Tex-Mex Avery cartoon. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Death Promise (1977)

Bruceploitation veteran Charles Bonet (Fists of Bruce Lee, et al.) graduates to his own vehicle in the modern-day Death Promise as — now here’s a stretch — Charley. The young Puerto Rican is living his best life in the worst of Manhattan when the landlord of his shitbox apartment tries to force out all the tenants; when shutting off the electricity, gas and water doesn’t work, a dusty box of rats let loose in the halls is Plan B.

As Charley’s Pops (Bob O’Connell, The Sting II) learns, the blame is on the “landlord syndicate” dba Iguana Realty. With a multimillion deal at stake, Iguana needs to level the place. Pops pushes back, saying they’ll only be able to demolish “over my dead body” — a proclamation the syndicate takes as an open invite. After consulting his local dojo master, Ciabatta Shibata (Thompson Kao Kang, The Black Dragon), on next steps, Charley vows to take out all responsible for Pops’ murder.

With the help of his bell-bottom jeans and his best pal, Speedy (Speedy Leacock, he of the monogrammed karate uniform and an Afro somehow parted down the middle), Charley makes a list and checks it twice — five times, actually, as his targets include:
• a Cameron Mitchell-esque, cigar-chomping archery buff (Tony De Caprio, Wanda Whips Wall Street)
• a judge by day and philatelist by night (David Kirk, Putney Swope)
• your garden-variety sleazeball, complete with disgustache (one-and-doner Thom Kendell)
• a smack dealer (one-and-doner Abe Hendy)
• and their Hal Holbrook-ian, cane-wielding figurehead, Alden (Vincent Van Lynn, Fuzz), who, until he’s felled by ninja stars seemingly cut from a cardboard box in the alley, takes orders from a Blofeld-ian mystery man — complete with kitty cat

The only movie directed by one Robert Warmflash, Death Promise is dirtier-than-dirt cheap. From its look, sound and vibe, you might think it were made by Fist of Fear, Touch of Death crew members on a potty break. And yet, the martial arts performed by Bonet, the Latin Panther, are impressive. His inevitable showdown against Bob Long (The Super Weapon) and others is especially satisfying because of the feral, crazed noises his foes emit, and because Warmflash isn’t one to move the camera much, that inexperience actually plays as a strength since we can clearly see each fighter’s moves.

In other physical news, many scenes include two- and even three-man walking hugs. Take it as the urban trash classic’s harbinger of charm. As the catchy, soul-infused theme song bellows, it’s gonna blow your mind — that’s a promise! —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Only the Good Parts (2015)

WTFWhen people talk trailers, someone inevitably scoffs, “They show all the good parts.” As if that’s a bad thing? It certainly isn’t in the world that exists underneath mainstream motion pictures. From blaxploitation to sexploitation with a whole heap o’ horror in between, Film Trauma’s Only the Good Parts dishes out a feature’s worth of proof — 39 trailers in all, roughly organized in themes that include badass broads, possession pics, killer kids, Italian ick and sacrilegious sinners.

Like the pair of Colour Correct My Cock compilations, the general selection is noteworthy for overall naughtiness and alternative versions. For example, prepare those loins for the one-two pubic punch of the French trailer for Jess Franco’s Barbed Wire Dolls and the German trailer for Franco’s Love Camp. Those are followed by the Franco-adjacent rump romp Rolls Royce Baby, in which muse Lina Romay is so naked so often, you’ll have (to quote ourselves) “an image of her vagina so thorough and vivid, you could accurately draw it from memory.” Look for Franco’s less dirty-minded but no less nude Demoniac later in the program.

For other name-brand directors, we get Ted V. Mikels’ 10 Violent Women and Al Adamson’s Nurse Sherri, heavy on comparing itself to The Exorcist. A rung — if not an entire ladder — higher on the credibility ladder stands David Cronenberg’s The Brood and Larry Cohen’s creatively effective campaign for It’s Alive and It Lives Again, matched in advertising genius only by whoever wrote the tagline for the X-rated slasher Evil Come, Evil Go: “She’s a Man-Hating, Hymn-Humming Hell Cat!”

Finally, when it comes to the grail of coming attractions — I speak, of course, of obscurities — Only the Good Parts giveth and giveth. I wouldn’t swear on this in the court of law, but I don’t recall even hearing of the likes of The Johnsons, Alley Cat and Beware My Brethren. That goes quadruple for Parts’ greatest piece, She Did It His Way, a 1968 vehicle for seriously stacked stripper Kellie Everts filmed at the Miss Nude Universe Pageant. I’m still not sure what the movie’s about, but it looks life-changing.

All this plus Roger Moore as The Man Who Haunted Himself, the pencil-eraser nipples of Werewolf Woman, a whip-crackin’ Coffin Joe and so much more. And remember, “You’ve not seen all of Marilyn Chambers until you’ve seen Angel of Heat.” —Rod Lott

Get it at Film Trauma or Amazon.