Powerful Pages - Carrion Comfort by Dan Simmons (1989)

Carrion Comfort by Dan Simmons (1989)

Sprawling yet intimate, Carrion Comfort is the sort of novel that earns epic status with a deeply rewarding journey of astounding depth.  Unfolding over the course of several decades and spanning the globe, the tale is dense but personal, complex yet infinitely relatable.  Inventive and starkly realistic in equal measures, it offers readers a new breed of vampire so distinct that they aren't really vampires at all.  Profoundly disturbing and equally brutal, Carrion Comfort dishes out a smorgasbord of woeful surprises and fiendish chills.  Simmons can be a bit overwrought, but his attention to detail and his vivid characterizations combine to flesh out a massive narrative with precision and impeccable clarity.  His zeal for history manifests itself here in a heartbreaking examination of the Holocaust that is the very foundation upon which this groundbreaking horror opus is constructed.  Fittingly, the emotional whirlwind that ensues catapults readers to dizzying heights.  This book is shocking and moving, boasting crushing defeats amid occasional triumphs as it veers from fascinating character study to white-knuckle thriller without warning, with frequent descents into outright terror upping the ante even further.  No one is safe, and the stakes couldn't be higher in this massive undertaking.  Carrion Comfort isn't just a great read, it's the type of novel that elevates the genre, and it should not be ignored by those who enjoy horror--or compelling literature in general, for that matter.

Final Grade: A+

 

Short Attention Span Review: Best of the Best (1989)

Short Attention Span Review: Best of the Best (1989)

I do this out of love, peeps.  Writing this review feels a lot like baring my soul in some new and thoroughly uncomfortable way.  Why?  Well, because this cliched and entirely too emotional offspring of a kung fu flick cross-pollinated with a soap opera is most certainly a guilty pleasure of mine.  Crafting this blog will require me to profess my undying love for a picture that is remarkably bad.  As far as I'm concerned, Best of the Best is a case study in the rare art of getting everything wrong--and somehow getting it right.  Yes, the plot finds room for every staple of both motion pictures about sports and plucky underdog tales in general.  Yes, it shamelessly mines each of these tropes for every single ounce of melodrama.  It mines many of them twice.  Some of them may be mined a half-dozen times or more before everyone hugs it out at the weepy conclusion.  Yes, Eric Roberts takes over-acting to new heights, playing his role with less restraint than we might expect from Bill Shatner and Wings Hauser--if they were shitfaced and engaged in a fierce competition to see who could get booted off the set first.  Yes, the closing reel morality play is so overdone that it roughly equates to cooking your steak until it becomes jerky.  All of these things are true (and I haven't even touched upon the glam-rock soundtrack or Eric's hair, dear lord) and yet it is both entertaining and touching in spite of its glaring flaws.  Shit, much of the entertainment is reliant upon Eric's dedication to turning every other scene into an opportunity to work through the five stages of grief in one take.  In terms of competence, originality, and believability, Best of the Best must be considered an abject failure.  However, it bypasses the realm of "so bad it's good" filmmaking and somehow lands in "so bad it is marvelous" territory.   Yeah, I'll stand by that.  You'll marvel, all right.  You may even cheer.  You may cry a bit, doing your own Eric Roberts Lite routine, and you'll certainly feel like a dumbass for falling prey to this crap when that happens.  Honestly, I love it.  No shame, peeps.  I'm going to bat for Eric Roberts like Mickey Rourke here.  I would have given him the Oscar, no bullshit.  His performance in Best of the Best leads me to believe that his acceptance speech would have been the greatest thing to happen in the history of time.

Final Grade: C+

Eric Roberts, man.  Eric Fucking Roberts.  Unbelievable.  And I still wind up so invested in his character.  If I was the only one who felt this way, I would chalk it up to mental illness.

Short Attention Span Review: Cold in July (2014)

Short Attention Span Review: Cold in July (2014)

Sam Shepard was a true legend, a gifted actor who was probably a better writer, and his passing has been marked with a wealth of tributes that honor his legacy.  As I read about his filmography, I realized that I had never watched Cold in July despite the fact that it had piqued my curiousity when it was released back in 2014.  Thus, I decided to go ahead and check out this slow boil of thriller set in 1989, and I'm certainly glad that I did.  The de facto star is Michael C. Hall from Dexter, and while he rocked a hideous mullet and embedded himself in his role, Shepard made for a bigger presence.  Not surprisingly, both of these quality performances were overshadowed by Don Johnson once he showed up about halfway through Cold in July, stealing the show in a part that falls just short of iconic.  The direction courtesy of Jim Mickle was sound and the real star attraction had to be the riveting score by Jeff Grace, who was clearly paying tribute to 80s cinema by way of John Carpenter.  The pace was a bit uneven here and there, and while I can appreciate a nice slow boil, things did drag a bit at times.  Given that the movie is based on the work of Joe R. Lansdale, it isn't surprising that it concludes with a gory showdown, though I was surprised that there were so many plot threads left dangling.  I don't think I can grade this one any higher than a B-, but it was one bloodthirsty B- and that may not even be a bad thing considering that Cold in July is a B movie by design.

Final Grade: B-

Next to the killer score, Cold in July's biggest assett is the trio of actors who bond on a subversive quest to make things right that requires them to bathe in blood.

Short Attention Span Review: DeepStar Six (1989)

I like movies set in the ocean, particularly if they are horror movies.  Add a sea creature of some sort and you are promptly awarded bonus points.  I'm also a big fan of the Friday the 13th series, so I try to give DeepStar Six the benefit of the doubt because it was directed by Sean S. Cunningham and Harry Manfredini did the score.  In the end, however, it's an okay movie that does fall a little flat.  It doesn't help matters that the superior Leviathan debuted in the same year.  DeepStar Six has a quality score and Cunnigham's direction is steady enough.  Throw in some creative death scenes, a sound performance by Miguel Ferrer, and some effective gore, and we should be good, right?  Where does the problem lie?  I'm pretty sure it's the monster.  The movie is nearly over before we see the monster, and while I'm generally okay with that approach, here I think it was probably less about style and building up to that moment than concealing DeepStar Six's greatest failing.  The monster isn't all that effective.  Having said all that, the movie is still watchable and there are surely inferior horror films, so if you're looking for a B-rate horror flick set in the ocean, you can settle for DeepStar Six.  It's not stellar, but it doesn't suck.  It just manages to stay afloat.

Final Grade: C