Dr. Malavaqua is a Good Doctor

Watched an old favorite while drinking my morning coffee - Transylvania 6-5000.


*

Poem

My best friend's 7 year old son wrote this poem. He is one smart, funny, talented kid.

Eye Ball

My eye is a juicy
ball.
When I drop it...
it will
burst!
It's safe in my
socket
till then...


Jacob B.


*

Ed Harley, Tragic Hero

As I was watching Stan Winston's Pumpkinhead the other day, it occurred to me that all the elements of the story are those of a Shakespearian tragedy. Because it was released in the 80's, had a group of teens in it, and was titled Pumpkinhead, the true beauty of this film, and its subtle genius, have been overlooked.

Please keep in mind that this post is not meant to be on the level of an academic paper, it's just my observations. Also, I am writing this assuming the reader has seen the movie, so I won't be giving a scene to scene description. I do, however, give away the end, so if you haven't seen it, consider this your spoiler warning.

Elements of the Shakespearian tragedy:

1. Shakespeare's tragic hero will be a man of rank, and the events that befall him will be out of the ordinary and fatally disastrous. The hero falls unexpectedly from a high place, a place of glory or joy. He is fundamentally a good person, but will contribute to his own destruction due to a flaw in character, or because of a tragic error.

Ed Harley, our main character, is a store owner and a loving single father. He lives in the country with his young son--a life portrayed as simple, but good. When his son is accidentally killed by one in a group of teens who've come from the city, Harley goes to the old witch to invoke Pumpkinhead and take revenge.




2. That men may start a course of events but can neither calculate or control it, is a tragic fact. All of Shakespeare's tragic protagonists are capable of both good and evil. The playwright always insists on the operation of the doctrine of free will; the (anti)hero is always able to back out, to redeem himself. The hero, though he persues his fated way, is, at some point, torn by inner struggle. But, the author dictates, they must move unheedingly to their doom.

The accident occurred in Harley's absence, so he is unaware that all but one (Steve - the one responsible) of the teens are horrified and are desperately trying to get to a phone to call for help, leaving only Steve's brother behind to stay with the boy until his father returns. However, Steve, fearing jail time due to a prior offense, doesn't allow the rest of the group to call for help, going as far as to lock two of them in a closet.

Harley calls upon Pumpkinhead to take revenge. Not long after, after significant inner turmoil, he has a change of heart. He is fundamentally good and only acted irrationally out of emotion (his tragic flaw). He also realizes that it was an accident and comes to understand that the teens tried to get help, but the knowledge comes much too late. He goes to the witch and begs for it to be called off, but even she is unable to stop it...much to her delight. Steve, our antihero, steps forward to take responsibility, even offering himself to the creature, but it is of no use. It's been called to kill them all and nothing can stop it.



3. Shakespeare also introduces the supernatural - ghosts and/or witches who have supernatural knowledge. This supernatural element cannot be explained away as an illusion and contributes to the action always in close or direct relation to the hero.

As a child Harley witnessed Pumpkinhead killing a man. This is why he knows the creature is real and not just a legend or the subject of a macabre children's song.

The witch Harley goes to and Pumpkinhead himself represent the supernatural element of the Shakespearian tragedy, as neither is a dream or an illusion. The witch knows how to call the creature, and it instinctively knows who its victims are.



4.The center of the tragedy may therefore be said to lie in the actions of the main character, his flawed perceptions, and human frailty. In Shakespeare, the hero recognizes his responsibility for the catastrophe which befalls him too late to prevent his death.

Harley goes to battle Pumpkinhead himself, desperately trying to protect the teens that are still alive. He realizes that if he dies, it will die. He shoots himself, thus ending his life, and the vengeful creature's. But death does not bring his soul mercy or rest. The witch buries him, and he will serve as the next Pumpkinhead.



In addition to the whole Shakespeare bent, this film is well written and beautifully shot. The use of color and the cinematography are poetic. There are long, fluid shots that are flawless. The scenes between the witch and Harley are pure gold, and the creature is a wonderful score in the props vs. CGI contest.


*

Halloween ABC

I bought this book over ten years ago and it's a favorite in my collection (I've been collecting children's Halloween books for about 20 years now). The little poems are wonderfully macabre and the illustrations are playful and beautiful.

Halloween ABC
Poems by Eve Marriam
Illustrations by Lane Smith






*

Lately

Trying to get some writing done, as well as some other things, so both my blogs have suffered. At least I can do a quick list of movies I've watched lately:

Otis (2008)
I wanted so much to like it, but the tone was all over the place. It tried to be too many things. Too bad because the cast was great. I love the guy playing Otis.

The Invasion (2007)
A complete waste of two talented actors, Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)
Perfect from beginning to end. I love everything about this movie; the cast, the cinematography and the trippy ass score. I had seen this a long, long time ago, so I decided it was time to sit with it again.

Screamers (1995)
YUCK

The Signal (2007)
Everybody loved this one and I just kept getting bored. I always feel guilty when that happens...like I somehow missed the obvious. I was in a bad mood - maybe that's a good excuse (?) - but I don't feel like revisiting it anytime soon. So, I'm in the minority on this one.

Alone in the Dark (1982)
How can you not like a movie when it stars Jack Palance, Donald Pleasence and Martin Landau? It was fun, but way too many convenient things occurred for this movie to be good. A pure popcorn watch. (I've actually seen this one before. I watched it with a friend who hadn't seen it but wanted to.)

Sisters (2006)
Why? Why do this? Another pointless remake of a perfectly good film.
And it was Douglas Buck's first major film to direct...that total sucks because I think his shorts are fantastic. I can't wait to see what he does next - his slate is still clean as far as I'm concerned.

Frontière(s) (2007)
Slick, beautiful, gory and I've seen it all before. The French version of Saw meets Hostel meets The Hills Have Eyes meets Wrong Turn meets...you get the idea.




*

Still Here

New post soon. I promise.

*

There's A Fish In The Tub...A Really Stinky One

I know today is Friday the 13th and every horror fan is getting their Voorhees on, but I look forward to this day for a different reason....because the day that follows means I'll be watching this:


I just can't help it, I find this movie oddly endearing. It's been a favorite of mine ever since I was a kid watching it over and over on Cinemax (or as we sometimes called it "Skinamax" due to their "Friday After Dark" series...but that's a whole other story). I proudly own the VHS and will make all members of my household watch it as we drink coffee tomorrow morning.




The Van Helsing character is a scream.

Is it wrong that I know every line of this movie? It is...I know.


*

Another Please

My dad only drinks Miller High Life. I generally stay away from it (I like the darker stuff), but come Halloween time...it's a whole different story.



(Yes, I drink it because of the cool can.)

*

Some Them There Horrors

I've seen several horror movies these last few days and have meant to post the list. Here they are, with three reviews (i.e. my opinion) coming soon (Mother of Tears, The Last Winter, & Family Portraits: The Shorts: Cutting Moments/Home/Prologue).

Mother of Tears (2007)
The Last Winter (2006)
Snowbeast (1997)
Teeth (2007)
Don't Open Til Christmas (1984)
Mama Dracula (1980)
Blood Tide (1982...Opps, I've already seen this one!)
Moon of the Wolf (1974)
The Creeper (1977)
Family Portraits: The Shorts: Cutting Moments/Home/Prologue (2004)


*

La Terza Madre

Today I finally get to see Dario Argento's Mother of Tears. I've been waiting to see this ever since I heard it went into production. It was released in Italy last Halloween, and is, of course, only getting a limited release here in the states. The city I used to live in won't be getting it (oh how they ignore the south), so it's a good thing I moved (though, I miss the south more than words could ever express). Few in the States get to say they've seen an Argento film in a theater, so I'm damn lucky to have the chance.

I'll do my best to post a review this weekend.


*

Popcorn, Cotton Candy & Diesel Fumes

A lazy, rainy day here. Horror of the Zombies plays in the background as I do laundry, clean house. In a black pot a dark carnival candle is burning. The scent it gives off makes me think of a short story from Ray Bradbury's The October Country titled "The Dwarf." Here's an excerpt:

Aimee watched the sky, quietly.

Tonight was one of those motionless hot summer nights. The concrete pier empty, the strung red, white, yellow bulbs burning like insects in the air above the wooden emptiness. The managers of the various carnival pitches stood, like melting wax dummies, eyes staring blindly, not talking, all down the line.

Two customers had passed through an hour before. Those two lonely people were now in the roller coaster, screaming murderously as it plummeted down the blazing night, around one emptiness after another.

Aimee moved slowly across the strand, a few worn wooden hoopla rings sticking to her wet hands. She stopped behind the ticket booth that fronted the MIRROR MAZE. She saw herself grossly misrepresented in three rippled mirrors outside the Maze. A thousand tired replicas of herself dissolved in the corridor beyond, hot images among so much clear coolness.

She stepped inside the ticket booth and stood looking a long while at Ralph Banghart's thin neck. He clenched an unlit cigar between his long uneven yellow teeth as he laid out a battered game of solitaire on the ticket shelf.

When the roller coaster walled and fell in its terrible avalanche again, she was reminded to speak.

"What kind of people go up in roller coasters?"

Ralph Banghart worked his cigar a full thirty seconds. "People wanna die. That rollie coaster's the handiest thing to dying there is." He sat listening to the faint sound of rifle shots from the shooting gallery. "This whole damn carny business's crazy. For instance, that dwarf. You seen him? Every night, pays his dime, runs in the Mirror Maze all the way back through to Screwy Louie's Room. You should see this little runt head back there. My God!"

"Oh, yes," said Aimee, remembering. "I always wonder what it's like to be a dwarf I always feel sorry when I see him."

"I could play him like an accordion."

"Don't say that!"

"My Lord." Ralph patted her thigh with a free hand. "The way you carry on about guys you never even met." He shook his head and chuckled. "Him and his secret. Only he don't know I know, see? Boy howdy!"

"It's a hot night." She twitched the large wooden hoops nervously on her damp fingers.

"Don't change the subject. He'll be here, rain or shine."

Aimee shifted her weight.

Ralph seized her elbow. "Hey! You ain't mad? You wanna see that dwarf, don't you? Sh!" Ralph turned. "Here he comes now!"

The Dwarfs hand, hairy and dark, appeared all by itself reaching up into the booth window with a silver dime. An invisible person called, "One!" in a high, child's voice.

Involuntarily, Aimee bent forward.

The Dwarf looked up at her, resembling nothing more than a dark-eyed, dark-haired, ugly man who has been locked in a winepress, squeezed and wadded down and down, fold on fold, agony on agony, until a bleached, outraged mass is left, the face bloated shapelessly, a face you know must stare wide-eyed and awake at two and three and four o'clock in the morning, lying flat in bed, only the body asleep.

Ralph tore a yellow ticket in half "One!"

The Dwarf, as if frightened by an approaching storm, pulled his black coat-lapels tightly about his throat and waddled swiftly. A moment later, ten thousand lost and wandering dwarfs wriggled between the mirror flats, like frantic dark beetles, and vanished.

"Quick!"

Ralph squeezed Aimee along a dark passage behind the mirrors. She felt him pat her all the way back through the tunnel to a thin partition with a peekhole.

"This is rich," he chuckled. "Go on-look."

Aimee hesitated, then put her face to the partition.

"You see him?" Ralph whispered.

Aimee felt her heart beating. A full minute passed.

There stood the Dwarf in the middle of the small blue room. His eyes were shut. He wasn't ready to open them yet. Now, now he opened his eyelids and looked at a large mirror set before him. And what he saw in the mirror made him smile. He winked, he pirouetted, he stood sidewise, he waved, he bowed, he did a little clumsy dance.

And the mirror repeated each motion with long, thin arms, with a tall, tall body, with a huge wink and an enormous repetition of the dance, ending in a gigantic bow!

"Every night the same thing," whispered Ralph in Aimee's ear. "Ain't that rich?"

Aimee turned her head and looked at Ralph steadily out of her motionless face, for a long time, and she said nothing. Then, as if she could not help herself, she moved her head slowly and very slowly back to stare once more through the opening. She held her breath. She felt her eyes begin to water.

Ralph nudged her, whispering.

"Hey, what's the little gink doin' now?"

They were drinking coffee and not looking at each other in the ticket booth half an hour later, when the Dwarf came out of the mirrors. He took his hat off and started to approach the booth, when he saw Aimee and hurried away.

"He wanted something," said Aimee.

"Yeah." Ralph squashed out his cigarette, idly. I know what, too. But he hasn't got the nerve to ask. One night in this squeaky little voice he says, 'I bet those mirrors are expensive.' Well, I played dumb. I said yeah they were. He sort of looked at me, waiting, and when I didn't say any more, he went home, but next night he said, 'I bet those mirrors cost fifty, a hundred bucks.' I bet they do, I said. I laid me out a hand of solitaire."

"Ralph," she said.

He glanced up. "Why you look at me that way?"

"Ralph," she said, "why don't you sell him one of your extra ones?"

*

Trick or Treat

The full collection of Tales from the Darkside came today.

Treat.


*

Christmas in June

One of my most favorite purchases ever was a 50 pack of movies I found 2 years ago in a bargain bin.


(I also got the 50 Horror Classics movie pack, but it was the lesser of the two for me.) I relished the countless nights of putting in the next dvd, sitting back and discovering what was there. A few favorites emerged: A Bell From Hell; Christmas Evil; Funeral Home; Silent Night, Bloody Night; and several more. I was so bummed when I had watched all 50.... my treasure pile exhausted.

So imagine my unabashed joy yesterday (while on the hunt for a copy of Pumpkinhead--why do I not own it yet?) when I found this:


It's a mix of films from the 30's, 40's, 70's, & 80's. To say that I am in heaven would be a colossal understatement. As I write this I'm watching a selection: a made for TV horror called Moon of the Wolf, with Geoffrey Lewis and Royal Dano ~ Mr. Tom Fury of the lightning rods from Something Wicked This Way Comes. (Made for TV horrors are another untapped treasure trove I'd love to get my hands on.) It's fun, groovy, and the stuff dreams are made of.


*

The Far Side

*