Short Attention Span Review: Halloween III (1982)

 

Here we go again.  I know, I know, Micheal Myers isn't in this one and it's all kinds of cheesy.  I'm supposed to hate it, right?  Well, apparently this is yet another of those movies that I'm not supposed to like that I actually do like.  Apparently, Carpenter had this idea that they could churn out a new Halloween every year, but he wanted each to be an individual horror yarn taking place on the ghoulish holiday.  I think that's a great idea, but neither Michael Myers nor his legions of rabid fans were interested.  So, we got lots of Halloween movies revolving around the psycho killer in the bleached William Shatner mask and this one oddity that strays from that formula.  And what an oddity it is!  The plot features such bizarre elements as robots, mad scientists, Stonehenge, and killer Halloween masks.  It's a bit of a departure from standard slasher fare, right?  Halloween III stars underrated genre vet Tom Atkins, who does a fine job in the lead role, though the the pointless love story inserted into the mix doesn't do him any favors.  Not only is he far older than his female co-star, but they lack chemistry and we're supposed to buy into their efforts to find time to scrog when they're supposed to be saving all the little children.  Of course, there are other elements of the movie that make less sense, so I digress.  There's also the Silver Shamrock commercial that appears repeatedly throughout Halloween III and is guaranteed to drive the audience mad.  Yes, it's a bad movie, but it's fun to watch and it has moments.  Hell, given all the crazy shit being thrown at the screen in this 1982 romp, some of it was bound to entertain.

Finale Grade: C

"Robots?  Stonehenge?  No Micheal Myers?  What the hell is this shit?"

Top 10 Bizarre Horror Movies from the 70s for Toptenz.net

So, I found this really awesome site that specializes in cool lists, Toptenz.net.  You guys know that I dig lists, so it should come as no surprise that I felt the need to contribute.  With that in mind, do yourself a favor and scope out the 10 Bizarre Horror Movies from the 70s piece that I put together for them.  I would absolutely love it if you could check the story out, share your thoughts, and spread the word.  I had a blast with this one and I would love to contribute additional lists to the site.  You know I'm having a good time when I get to write sentences like "It doesn’t take long for our hero’s investigation to lead him to a telepathic Christ-like hippie with a glowing face and a vagina on his side."  Who doesn't have fun with stuff like that?

Okay, pipe down, anti-telepahtic Christ-like hippie with a glowing face and a vagina on his side people, you've made your point.

The rest of you head on over to TopTenz and check it out.

Exhibit A: a telepathic Christ-like hippie with a glowing face and a vagina on his side

Weird Dreams - 8/24/2012 Edition

I'm a deranged horror author, so it should come as no surprise that I have lots of nightmares and weird dreams.  There's some strange stuff happening inside my cranium, and sometimes my nocturnal escapades are so bizarre that I feel the need to share them.

So, last night I dreamed that my good friend Dave Scearce (a swell guy and one of the best bassists around) took me to see a comedian perform at a stone amphitheater.  The comedian was a figment of my imagination and not an actual comedian, and I can't remember if he was any good or not.  Besides, it wasn't important to the dream.  Anyway, we were watching this guy perform and I got up to go to the bathroom.  Suddenly, I became weightless, and I began to float upward.  I reached a height of maybe forty or fifty feet, and then this zero gravity phase of my dream came to an abrupt halt.  I plummeted downward, terrified, and slammed into the cruel rock surface that the amphitheater was composed of.

This left me with a mangled arm that was bleeding freely and a deep gash in my head that was bleeding even worse than the mangled arm.  Making matters worse, I began vomiting up blood.  Lots of blood.  Dave was quick to lend a hand, and he rushed me to the hospital.  I told him not to call Kristen (my wife) until we saw a doctor because I was hoping that it wasn't that bad and I didn't want to scare her.  This while I continued to gush blood from my wounds and puke up lots and lots of blood repeatedly.

Once we got to the hospital, we had to wait a while, but finally the doctor hit the scene.  He looked like a normal enough guy, but I knew things had taken a turn for the worse when he introduced himself as Dr. Frankenstein.  My misgivings were confirmed when he pulled a gun on me and said, "My prescription: one round to the base of your skull to put you out of your misery."

At that point, I looked to Dave and acknowledged that it was time to call my wife. 

. . . . .

Anyone who wants to offer me some meaningful insight into that absurdity is welcome to do so.