1. “BabyFu”
2. “BabyTrouble”
3. “Baby Burning”
4. “BabyDanger”
5. “BabyCramps”
6. “Tex’s Theme” —Rod Lott
Madcap Screencaps #32
Can you guess what movie or TV show we’re watching? We’ve turned on subtitles (when available) not to give you a clue, but to enhance that WTF effect! Leave your best guess in the comments to prove your true Flick Attackosity!
Children of the Corn: Genesis (2011)
Complaints leveled against Children of the Corn: Genesis largely amount to “It hardly has any kids!” Well, good! God forbid a moribund franchise based on a Stephen King story tries to do something different, especially for one as far up as its eighth entry.
After a 1973 prologue pretty much unrelated to the remainder of the movie, married-and-expectant California couple Tim and Allie (Tim Rock and Kelen Coleman) are stranded in the middle of nowhere, thanks to car troubles. A brief walk puts them on the doorstep of rickety farmhouse occupied by the unfriendly Preacher (Billy Drago, The Untouchables‘ Frank Nitti) and his hot, young, European wife (Barbara Nedeljakova of both Hostels).
You know they’re in for the worst night of their middle-class lives because of the “rickety farmhouse” and “Billy Drago.” Soon enough and sure enough, a busted radiator and being unwelcome are the least of their worries. Finding that Preacher keeps a kid captive in a barn out back makes Tim and Allie need to figure out an escape not only for them, but that malnourished tot.
Pay no mind that this is not a prequel as the title suggests, nor that it bears little resemblance to the King tale. Genesis stands on its own quite well, heading into angles of poltergeists and possessions, leading me to believe it would be better-liked if not branded/burdened with the Corn name. However, without it, far fewer would see it. Ah, the Catch-22s of straight-to-video movies, which writer/director Joel Soisson (Mimic 2) can turn out better than most, right down to a cruel-for-a-laugh final shot. —Rod Lott
Song of the Thin Man (1947)
I was worried, but the Thin Man series ends swell with a jazz-themed return to the formula and the kind of comedy that made the series great. Song of the Thin Man has Nick and Nora back in New York, again trying to solve a murder in order to prove the innocence of a friend. In this case, the friend is Phil Brant, who owns a gambling ship and has an argument with Tommy Drake, who leads the club’s jazz band. When Drake turns up dead in Brant’s office, Nick grabs his cocktail shaker and goes to work.
Instead of Nick drunkenly and good-naturedly suffering the company of snooty rich folk, Song shakes things up a bit by having him drunkenly and good-naturedly suffering the company of hepcats. It’s brilliant, because his reaction to both is nearly identical, but the hepcats are infinitely less irritating (and so, more entertaining) than wealthy snobs. Also, Nora’s even more of a treat than usual once she gloms onto the hepcats’ lingo and starts using it correctly, much to Nick’s befuddlement.
Nick Jr. appears again in this installment, but he’s about 10 or 11 years old and not played for cute anymore. Dean Stockwell (TV’s Quantum Leap) plays him and carries his own as a bona fide member of the wisecracking family. At bedtime one night, he asks for a story. “No story for you tonight,” Nick says, “You’ve got to get some sleep.” Says Stockwell, “But your stories always put me to sleep,” delivering the line almost as perfectly as William Powell reacts to it.
The Thin Man series is famous for presenting marriage as something that people might actually want to do. With Song of the Thin Man, it does the same thing for parenting. —Michael May
Class of 1984 (1982)
I’ve never seen a horror movie that makes me feel as anxious as having to walk past a group of unchaperoned teenagers, regardless of the situation or location. One on one, I have no problems with the adolescent set, but gathered together, I find they can be as terrifying as suddenly running into a pack of feral dogs. Hollywood has long understood the fear we “old fogies” have for those whippersnappers, and has been too happy to exploit it for excellent dramatic effect.
One of the best examples has to be Mark Lester’s Class of 1984, which has nothing to do with George Orwell’s book, but everything to do with all things awesome. In it, Perry King (TV’s Riptide) plays a handsome music teacher assigned to an urban hellhole of a high school controlled by a gang of psychopathic students whose extracurricular dabbling in drugs and prostitution are really just an excuse to indulge in what Alex DeLarge liked to call “a bit of the old ultraviolence.”
It takes about one class for King to get on the bad side of these ruffians, led by a gifted maniac played by Timothy Van Patten (Master Ninja). Unable to get any help from the school’s useless principal, the feud escalates an innocent student (a young Michael J. Fox) is stabbed and King’s pregnant wife is raped. King then proceeds to (understandably) freak the fuck out and go all Charles Bronson on the young punks’ asses in an insane showdown that’ll have you screaming “Fuck yeah!” more times than an unimaginative porn star faking her way to fame and fortune.
Definitely the best revenge flick from the ’80s that doesn’t star Linda Blair, Class of 1984 not only does for teenagers what Jaws did for oceans and Psycho did for showers, but it features a great performance by Roddy McDowell as another teacher pushed over the edge by his rowdy pupils, as well as a memorable theme song written and performed by Alice Cooper. —Allan Mott