Short Attention Span Review: Videodrome (1983)

Short Attention Span Review: Videodrome (1983)

Videodrome is probably body horror maestro David Cronenberg's most bizarre film, and that is surely a noteworthy achievement.  In addition to featuring some of his most disgusting imagery, it is also one of his most perplexing motion pictures.  At the same time, it has an inexplicable appeal that keeps the viewer glued to the screen.  James Woods is perfectly cast as Max Renn, a sleazy cable programmer looking for a show that will shock audiences enough to put his meager station on the map.  He finds "Videodrome" and becomes obsessed with the twisted program even as this addiction triggers violent hallucinations that send his life into a downward spiral.  Debbie Harry is also pretty damn sublime as his masochistic love interest who is equally drawn to the show.  I've always felt that there's an eerie parallel between the way this gross mindbender entrances the viewer and the story itself, which depicts Max losing his ability to tell the difference between reality and fantasy as his fascination with the perverse "Videodrome" program grows.  Cronenberg's frequent collaborator Howard Shore provides a worthy score and Rick Baker's vintage effects work is still impressive to behold.  Most importantly, the central theme of the picture (modern society's dependence upon and vicarious living through media and the dangers thereof) is just as relevant today as it was back in 1983--if not more so.  The ending is decidedly grim, but stands as the perfect way to punctuate this diabolical affair that is every bit as compelling as it is grotesque.  I'm a big fan of Cronenberg's work, and while I can't put this one up there with The Fly, it's probably my second favorite film that he directed.

Final Grade: A

This is a pretty kooky image--and it's not even one of the weird parts.  True story: Videodrome is strange as hell.

Short Attention Span Review: An American Werewolf in London (1981)

I'm keeping with my "horror movies from the 80s" theme for this latest Short Attention Span Review, and it concerns the finest werewolf movie of them all.  Yes, we're talking about An American Werewolf in London.  Yes, we're talking about a genuine classic, a horror movie for the ages.  Engaging, frightening, humorous, dramatic, and utterly unique, I don't think I can heap enough praise on this John Landis masterpiece in my review.  I strongly believe that only The Howling (also released in 1981) could challenge this one for werewolf movie supremacy, and as much as I like that horror gem from Joe Dante, I think An American Werewolf in London easily takes the crown.  The performances are stellar, with David Naughton somehow offering up a gripping star turn that is rather puzzling when you consider that he never managed to do anything half as good afterward.  Griffin Dunne nearly steals the show as Naughton's undead best pal and Jenny Agutter is equally impressive as the female lead.  There are wealth of supporting roles that all add to the overall success of the picture, but perhaps the biggest star of the show is the epic special effects work courtesy of Rick Baker.  Seriously, the effects are so gnarly that this movie captured the first ever Academy Award for Best Make-Up and it boasts a transformation sequence that has yet to be topped thirty-four years later.  In addition to the legendary effects work, we have a tragic love story, a wonderful soundtrack, a main character who is haunted by his undead victims and a series of gruesome (and absurd) nightmares, a wealth of subversive humor, and lots and lots of bloody carnage.  The opening reel is sheer perfection and the movie never misses a beat, rocketing toward an orgy of violence and dismay that gives way to a tender closing.  An American Werewolf in London isn't just the best werewolf movie I've ever seen, it's also one of the best damn horror films ever made. 

Final Grade: A+

Everyone needs a best friend--unless they're dead and they
keep showing up and demanding that you kill yourself.