Tag Archives: lovecraft

Link Dump: #94

pricelorre_kitty

A while back, I showed you a photo of Peter Lorre with two kitties. Well, to top that, here are four photos of Peter Lorre and Vincent Price with two different kitties! Summer is over. Autumn is here. It’s time to stop fucking around. Now here are a bunch of links I’ve been gathering for the past couple months:

Finally, search terms! Like “spying wife pussy blogspot.” And “pussy trazan.” And incoherent strings of vaguely pornographic keywords like “catherine keener cameltoe pussy, tube8” and “las princesas de disney pusy”!

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Link Dump: #67

This week’s kitty is from Scary Movie 2, and it’s a lot less benign than most. I mean, it’s been beating the shit out of Anna Faris, and now it’s giving her the finger! Bad kitty! But still, it’s a kitty. Anyway, here’s a bunch of cool links…

We just have one particularly over-the-top search term this week: “violence horror pussy bloody operation.” That says it all, really.

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Disney Revisited: Pinocchio

By Andreas

Some thoughts after rewatching Pinocchio (1940)…

  • The contrasts with Snow White are obvious: whereas Disney’s first feature film was streamlined, mythical, and monumental, Pinocchio is much more episodic, incidental, and detail-oriented. Snow White dealt in broad fairy tale archetypes; Pinocchio actually has quirky characters like Jiminy Cricket and Honest John who are more than just individual traits or moral signifiers.
  • It’s structured as a simple morality tale. Pinocchio takes place in a world of extreme moral clarity, where transgressions have immediate physical consequences (a growing nose, turning into a donkey). Pinocchio himself is only a day old, and new to the concepts of “right” and “wrong.” He succumbs to temptation twice in a row, then has a realization of sorts (spurred by Lampwick’s grotesque, painful transformation) and runs off to save Geppetto. These concessions and consequences guide Pinocchio’s narrative, again in contrast to the less moralistic Snow White.
  • Different styles of animation coexist onscreen. Within individual frames of Pinocchio, three art styles are strikingly juxtaposed: humanoid figures (Geppetto, Pinocchio, Jiminy Cricket) are drawn cartoonishly, with walled-off areas of solid color; animals (Figaro and Cleo) have softer edges and color gradation; and backgrounds, as in Snow White, are rendered with meticulous realism. Curiously, Honest John and Gideon are visual hybrids, with animal faces and humanoid bodies.
  • The film trades in racialized cultural anxieties. Promised the glamorous “actor’s life,” Pinocchio is instead enslaved by the swarthy, boisterous Stromboli, who speaks in an exaggerated Italian accent and is the film’s most “ethnic” character. This scenario unmistakably resembles turn-of-the-century white slavery myths, which vilified racial Others while discouraging white women from being promiscuous or leaving the home. (The latter moral will be loudly reiterated at the end of Pinocchio.)
  • Pleasure Island’s urban depravity prefigures film noir. The island’s excesses have a 1940s flavor to them: overeating, smoking, brawling, gambling, and playing pool. In its stylized representation of a hellish, decaying city center, Pinocchio taps into many of the same cultural currents as then-nascent film noir. (A similarly moralistic city of temptations would pop up in The Night of the Hunter.)
  • Monstro is Cthulhu. In fact, the climax is right out of H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Call of Cthulhu”: characters’ lives are endangered by a giant, non-anthropomorphized monster who’s indifferent to their existences, but gets aggravated when they cause it some minor harm. Like Cthulhu, Monstro is unsentimental, implacable, and terrifying.
  • Pinocchio’s near-death is emotionally identical to the end of Sunrise. Just as with Snow White, I’m noticing uncanny parallels to Murnau’s masterpiece. In Sunrise, the Wife (Janet Gaynor) is thought dead after a storm capsizes the couple’s boat; when she’s discovered alive, it leads to a tear-jerking bedside reunion. Pinocchio follows the same pattern, false watery death and all, for its satisfying resolution.
  • There’s no place like home. Pinocchio’s ending is decidedly conservative, reaffirming the status quo (family, home, tradition) at the expense of adventure or nonconformity. Jiminy Cricket even gets a line to underscore this point: “Well,” he laughs in the film’s final minutes, “this is practically where I came in!”

(This is part of “Disney Revisited,” my chronological film-by-film exploration of the Disney animated canon.)

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The Sounds of Violence

I’ve been writing an awful lot about horror movies this month, and all my emphasis on cinematic frights makes it easy to forget that horror permeates all media. So, to diversify our coverage, here’s a list of about 10 very scary, Halloween-appropriate songs. Plus, they’re interspersed with bonus songs so you can dig deeper and make the ultimate Halloween party playlist! What’s not to love? (For more Halloweeny songs, check out the spookylicious Kindertrauma Jukebox! Also: YouTube videos come and go. If any of the links below are dead ends, please comment so I can update them.)

10. “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” by Bauhaus

Back when “goth” meant something more than a high school fashion statement, Bauhaus released this tribute to Lugosi, who reached the title state in 1956. Long and atmospheric, the song was featured in the opening scene of The Hunger (1983), where it helped set the mood better most of the confusingly edited, noisy scenes to follow. Its eerie simplicity was an example that director Tony Scott would’ve been wise to follow. Sample lyrics: “The virginal brides file past his tomb / Strewn with time’s dead flowers…”

Also… “Late Night Creature Feature” by The Bewitched is an ode to watching scary movies late at night. The Bewitched is a very cool Minneapolis dark cabaret outfit, and they have my highest recommendation. [Like them on Facebook!]

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There’s Something in the Fog!

First of all: I’m severely tempted to reference Carl Sandburg’s poem “Fog” over and over again throughout this post. I just thought you should know this. The lack of puns on “little cat feet” is only because I’m a master of self-restraint. Second of all: Why in the name of zombies didn’t anyone force me to watch The Fog (1980) before last week??! It’s a brilliantly told, old-fashioned ghost story, with nary a structural missteps and a premium on likeable, intelligent characters. It may well be one of director John Carpenter’s 2-3 crowning achievements.

It’s also a very smart meta-horror movie, as it deals with the scary stories we tell ourselves, and how those interact with the other myths our lives are based on. (Cf. Bernard Rose’s Candyman [1992].) The coastal town of Antonio Bay, California is about to turn 100 years old, and the town elders, like Kathy Williams (Janet Leigh) are planning a big celebration, complete with the unveiling of a commemorative statue. But there’s eerie doin’s a-transpiring, as the residents of Shelbyville would say, and a thick, glowing fog rolling in. Namely, the kind of thick, glowing fog that contains hook-and-sword-wielding ghosts out for blood…

But Carpenter makes this into so much more than your typical thriller about hook-wielding ghosts. Yes, the movie’s plot, with its build-and-release model of suspense, is rooted in the Hitchcock-influenced slasher formula that Carpenter had pioneered with Halloween. But The Fog‘s greatest priority is establishing Antonio Bay as a tangible place with an embattled community of diverse citizens, each of whom is affected by the town’s troubled nautical heritage. (Many of Carpenter’s films, including The Thing and Prince of Darkness, have claustrophobic premises based on Howard Hawks’ Rio Bravo, which Carpenter himself remade; The Fog bears a similar, but less obvious, debt.)

We’ve got Father Malone (Hal Holbrook), the drunken priest who discovers his ancestor’s secret-laden diary; Stevie Wayne (Adrienne Barbeau), the DJ whose sultry voice stretches across the town, not unlike the fog itself; Nick Castle (Tom Atkins), an intrepid seaman who’s investigating the town’s mysteries; and Elizabeth (Jamie Lee Curtis), an itinerant artist who tags along with Nick. We spend the majority of the film getting to know these characters, learning about their relationships to Antonio Bay and to each other. Each of their stories is intercut, and each character gains new insights into the mystery that they must slowly piece together with the others’ help. It’s kind of like a small-town horror version of Nashville.

The terror of The Fog comes less from the occasional impalements, and more from the sense of dread as the fog bank approaches, determined to exact revenge for the sins of the fathers. The plot’s focus on old, scary stories, like the one that Father Malone accidentally uncovers, or the one told during the film’s prologue by guest star John Houseman, is what allows Carpenter to engage in some clever meta-commentary. This is a “cursed small town” story about cursed small town stories. It reminds me of a less mechanical, more ludic version of Jaws; it too is about civic responsibility, but with a greater curiosity about the directions a story can turn, and how viewers react to them.

Stevie’s son Andy, for example, lets his imagination run wild after he finds a piece of driftwood carved with the name of the ghost ship, the Elizabeth Dane. Andy’s enthusiasm here and throughout the film, as when he sees the danger he’s in and laughs, “I think it’s kinda neat!”, reflects our eagerness as audience members for the film’s approaching climax. Carpenter is a resolute classicist, devoted to retelling old stories in new, fun ways. Like his idol Hitchcock (whose film The Birds gets a shout-out when a character mentions Bodega Bay), he wants to tantalize and play with his audience. The Fog does an admirable job of giving its viewers the chills.

Of course, I have to touch on The Fog‘s Lovecraft connections: although Antonio Bay is on the west coast, the way Carpenter treats its haunted history resembles that of certain New England towns, Innsmouth among them, and Antonio Bay isn’t far from a spot called Arkham Reef. But The Fog is definitely less downbeat than most of Lovecraft, and espouses a worldview of qualified optimism through the fates of its characters: stick together and you’ll pull through, but somebody still has to pay (and with their life, not just a giant gold cross).

The Fog brings together all manner of horror legends under the auspices of solid writing, crafty editing, and Carpenter’s always reliable synthesizer score. It’s a movie that merges old and new in the mother/daughter pairing of Leigh and Curtis; in the confrontation between the town’s not-so-buried past and its living present; and in its telling of the oldest kind of horror story through the newest techniques. With its angry, shadow-shrouded ghosts, The Fog is a very scary movie, yet it’s also good-natured and thematically deep. It’s just the kind of entertainment we need as Halloween grows closer, sweeping across the calendar like a fluorescent cloud of fog.

Wait a minute, wait a minute, I’m not done yet! Well, OK, first: isn’t it cool how Adrienne Barbeau never physically interacts with any of the other characters? I love subtle tricks like that. Second and most importantly: totally by coincidence, I recently saw Barbeau and Holbrook in a movie together – that is, George Romero’s Creepshow. As a whole, I found it pretty uneven and only occasionally successful (note: Ed Harris used to be hot, and Leslie Nielsen makes a good psychopath); the Barbeau/Holbrook episode, “The Crate,” was probably the movie’s peak. (Either that or the last one, “They’re Creeping Up On You!”, where E.G. Marshall is plagued by some icky cockroaches.)

Barbeau and Holbrook play a dysfunctional couple living in academia. The story is pretty much Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? meets Monster on the Campus (with, as usual, a little Lovecraft thrown in), as Holbrook’s colleague pries open the titular object… and finds a very hungry, very toothed beastie inside. Can you guess who tries to use the monster to kill who? I’ll give you a hint: Holbrook is a hen-pecked, fed-up husband while Barbeau is his verbally abusive, drunken, uncensored wife. She gives a fantastic performance, by the way. So there! A little tangentially related bonus review to tide you over.

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Hawks/Carpenter/Lovecraft

[This piece was written as part of John Carpenter Week over at Radiator Heaven. Go there for a comprehensive listing of other Carpenter-related writing.]

Together, The Thing from Another World (1951) and John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982) comprise one of my favorite original/remake couplings. They’re both chilly and paranoid, using the narrow corridors of polar research stations to elicit maximum terror. The 1951 version is a mix of high adventure and Cold War sci-fi, told with Howard Hawks’ consummate classicism (although the direction is credited to Christian Nyby); Carpenter’s, meanwhile, amps up the mistrust and the gore, the latter courtesy of Rob Bottin and Stan Winston’s special effects.

My point is that these are both top-notch sci-fi/horror movies that I love. During the summer, I read H.P. Lovecraft’s novella At the Mountains of Madness and, what do you know, I caught some strong parallels with both Thing movies! Of course, there’s the basic plot – intrepid scientists uncover a long-buried eldritch horror in the icy wastes – but even beyond that, we’ve got similarities galore. This is probably not a coincidence, as Mountains was published in Astounding Stories in 1936, with John W. Campbell’s “Who Goes There?”, on which both Thing movies were based (and which I have not read), appearing in the same periodical just two years later.

But hey, pointing out parallels like this is fun. Thus, I’m going to reveal them in the most dramatic form possible: through quotes and screenshots! Everybody loves those, right?

“I hope I have said enough already to let me glide briefly over the rest; the rest, that is, of the horror at the camp. I have told of the wind-ravaged terrain, the damaged shelters, the disarranged machinery, the varied uneasiness of our dogs, the missing sledges and other items, the deaths of men and dogs…” (Chapter 4)

Exhibit A: In The Thing, the Norwegian camp operates with basically the same significance as Lake’s camp in Mountains. Except Lake and his men didn’t leave behind anything so informative as a twisted mutant corpse; all that remained was those weird alien snow-tombs.

“At first all that Lake found was dry, but as the heated tent produced its thawing effect, organic moisture of pungent and offensive odor was encountered toward the thing’s uninjured side.” (Chapter 2)

Whoops! Better not let that ancient ice block defrost! After all, it might contain ghastly creatures beyond man’s reckoning. Never mind; it’s too late. That’s what you get for introducing heat to the damn polar regions. (Fun fact: Mountains and The Thing ’82 take place in the Antarctic; The Thing ’51 is set in the Arctic.)

“Having trouble with dogs. They can’t endure the new specimen, and would probably tear it to pieces if we didn’t keep it at a distance from them.”

Note for future polar explorers: listen to your dogs. They are smart. They have that special dog sense, the one that helped Balto transport all that diphtheria vaccine. They can discern when eons-old beings with little regard for humanity have sneaked into your midst. And when earthquakes about to strike. Man, dogs are useful.

“A good-sized blast had laid open the subterrene secret; and now, through a jagged aperture perhaps five feet across and three feet thick, there yawned before the avid searchers a section of shallow limestone hollowing worn more than fifty million years ago…” (Chapter 2)

Guys, what’s the lesson you’re trying to give us? Don’t go digging in the earth? I guess Lovecraft would say that geology is just another branch of science, and all scientific/mathematical endeavors inevitably lead to failure or madness. As for Hawks’s men, Andrew Sarris said they were driven by “professionalism.” And not digging up a potentially groundbreaking discovery would probably be a breach of their code. In Carpenter’s case, it’s not even the Americans’ fault. They’re just pitifully following in the Norwegians’ footsteps.

“They had done the same thing on other planets, having manufactured not only necessary foods, but certain multicellular protoplasmic masses capable of molding their tissues into all sorts of temporary organs…” (Chapter 7)

“Must dissect when we get back to camp. Can’t decide whether vegetable or animal.” (Chapter 2)

The greatest difference between the two Things is their monsters: Hawks has James Arness in pretty scary alien makeup; Carpenter has a series of icky, protean critters that turn into other critters. Here’s my proposal: the ’82 monster resembles Lovecraft’s “Shoggoths,” which also imitate other life forms. When the protagonist encounters one, he describes it as “a shapeless congeries of protoplasmic bubbles, faintly self-luminous, and with myriads of temporary eyes forming and un-forming as pustules of greenish light.” These same threateningly amorphous qualities are present in Carpenter’s thing.

Hawks’s thing, on the other hand, is more like Lovecraft’s Old Ones. Not so much in appearance (they have starfish-shaped heads), but in the vegetable/animal ambiguity that Dr. Carrington raves about. In any case, the thing’s extraction from the ground, its thawing, and its escape match what happens with the corpses of the Old Ones, practically scene for scene. Let the inquiring minds over at Miskatonic ponder that one for a while.

So what’s the point of this exercise? Well, it’s threefold: 1) it’s cool, 2) it shows how supplemental reading material can give new insight into this pair of films, and 3) it’s another example of Lovecraft’s ongoing influence on horror fiction. Plus, At the Mountains of Madness is not going away any time soon. Here, for your reading pleasure, are some reassuring quotes from Guillermo del Toro about his upcoming film adaptation of Mountains. (Also, not as reassuringly, there’s prequel to The Thing in the works.) So there you have it: Lovecraft is alive and well and living in Arkham!

“I hope I have said enough already to let me glide   briefly over the rest; the rest, that is, of the   horror at the camp. I have told of the wind-ravaged   terrain, the damaged shelters, the disarranged   machinery, the varied uneasiness of our dogs, the   missing sledges and other items, the deaths of men   and dogs…” (Chapter 4)

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Link Dump: #6

Halloween’s getting closer every day! Aren’t you excited?? Can’t you feel the tangible excitement in the air?! I know I can. But alas, we’ve still got a month and a half, so in the meantime, here’s some reading material with the PGG stamp of approval. Also, tune in next week as we bring you The Fifth Element, The White Ribbon, Julianne Moore, and more.

  • The one and only Paracinema Magazine is releasing their 10th issue, and it’s available to pre-order for the low, low price of $7. Added incentive: you can read my short piece on the exploitation film Sex Madness. What are you waiting for? Go, pre-order, and support high-quality film writing! Also, congratulations to the Paracinema crew on 10 great issues.
  • Elli Agg, a Greek fan of Amanda Palmer, posted this amazing song called “Dear AFP” on YouTube. She’s so cute, talented, and inspiring; you owe it to yourself to listen.
  • Via the Found Footage Festival, here’s a hilariously nightmarish PSA made by an insurance company. I have a strange affinity for bizarre PSAs, as I’ve demonstrated in the past, and this is a pretty great one, with its laughably over-the-top accidents.
  • Having followed it since December ’09, this week I won The Film Experience’s movie identification game “First and Last” twice in a row! My satisfaction in winning is only matched by the pettiness of my achievement.
  • This ad for “Great Old Spice” body wash is both professional-looking and full of lolz. Of course, I’m a sucker for all things Cthulhu, but seriously: they worked in so many Lovecraft references.
  • John Carpenter made another movie! The Ward, his first since 2001’s widely panned Ghosts of Mars, debuted at TIFF earlier this week, and MUBI has the scoop on its critical reception. Consensus so far is that it’s not Halloween great, but it’s solidly good.
  • Want more classic Carpenter? Radiator Heaven is hosting John Carpenter Week from October 3-9 in honor of the maestro’s revived career. I’ll probably be writing something for it too. (Like so much else, it will involve Lovecraft.)
  • Whether you love her or hate her, you can’t argue with the power and passion of Lady Gaga’s “Repeal Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” crusade. Go her! Talk about having a positive impact on the nation.

And now that you’ve read our online recommendations, here are our weirdest, ickiest, WTFest search terms from the previous week, most of which contain the word “pussy”:

  • We’ve got some pussy abuse, like “why do women like doing dog food in puss” and “fire extinguisher in pussy.” Please, no. Dog food and fire extinguishers have their purposes, and they do not involve pussies.
  • Oddly enough, we had two searches for Yakov Smirnov jokes, those being “in soviet russia leg breaks you” and “in russia bread eats you.” Maybe they were looking for this?
  • FYI: “please rape me style clothing” is not a productive search. There is no such style of clothing.
  • I suspect that the person looking for “excited cock and wild pussy have cartoon” may have been after this very old, very NSFW cartoon
  • And finally, nothing could beat the raw strangeness of “agatha christie books + bottle in vagina.” Don’t explain it to me. I just don’t want to know.

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