BACKROOMS, OBSESSION, and WHAM!

Once in a while, Brugger and I both feel a hankering to go to the drive-in theater in Eden, about a half-hour down the way, and last night was one of those times. Over the years, we've had some lovely experiences there as well as some that were anything but up to snuff. Happily, last night was a winner...well, until the trip home.

The Eden Drive-In has two screens—the original, full-size screen and a more recent, pint-size screen with a correspondingly smaller parking area. The Mandalorian & Grogu played last weekend and was still on for this weekend, so we decided to check it out, since we both loved the series. However, once we arrived at the theater—about an hour and a half early—we learned it was playing on the small screen (it had played on the main screen last week), and that smaller lot was already damn-near full. On the big screen, they had Backrooms and Obsession, so we figured, well, fuggit, let's check them out. I'd heard good things about both from friends and fellow writers who'd seen them, and... hey... horror movies and drive-in theaters naturally go together. Huzzah!

 

It was a beautiful evening, and as it got darker, the breeze turned chillier... and chillier. We'd had the foresight to bring layers, so... hey, we felt happier than happy to get a break from the recent once-unseasonal heat. As the sun set, the sky turned all kinds of colors, and come full-on dusk, a bright full moon hung overhead. The perfect setting for us.

 

Backrooms was, to me, utterly brilliant — rather Lynchian, I thought, as if it sprang from the darkest heart of the Black Lodge. It's kind of the inverse of real life: a nightmare film, in which conventional reality occasionally asserts itself. Obsession similarly hit a level of intensity that I found disconcerting.in the extreme. Ms. B. preferred Obsession, while I preferred Backrooms, but that was all a matter of degree. We both loved both.

 

The only tragic part of all this was that, heading home on the rural backroads, I ended up hitting a deer. We'd seen loads of them along the way, so I was driving pretty slowly, but nevertheless, one came bounding out across the road at full tilt, and that was all she wrote. So, sadly...one dead deer. The damage to my car was minimal, but it's still going to require some body work, which is an expense we can ill-afford at the moment.

 

I hate hitting animals. Almost ironically, back in 2015, Kimberly hit a deer on the way home from that very same drive-in (see "Deer Damage"). In her case, the accident caused extensive damage to her car. Perhaps ironically, we'd been talking about that incident while we were waiting for the movies to start. Alas. Anyway, I feel horrible for the deer, and despite the pain the ass, pretty lucky that the accident wasn't any worse.

 

We had such a lovely evening, we decided that it was going to be our takeaway from it. Now, we're really looking forward to another drive-in movie night.

 

Peace out.

Godzilla vs. Kong

It took three attempts, but I finally stayed awake through Legendary’s Godzilla vs. Kong. To be fair, these days, it doesn’t take much to put me out, given the degree of fatigue with which I regularly end far too many of my days.

Attempt number one: as soon as G vs. K came available on HBOMax, I opened an account and cranked up the movie. A long day it had been, and though I really wanted to soldier through it, the endeavor was doomed from the start. Attempt number two: easily the most fun of the three, this one took place at the Eden Drive-In Theater. I must say, Godzilla and drive-ins have gone hand-in-hand since I was just a wee little kaiju nerd, and this experience proved largely delightful. Largely, I say, though not wholly. Constant rain ended up marring the viewing, as did — again — a willing spirit but desperately tired flesh. However... finally... on attempt number three (again on HBOMax), mind and body managed to remain focused.

Spoilers here, there may be.

As with its predecessor, Godzilla - King of the Monsters, G vs. K eschews anything like engaging storyline and characters in favor of CGI spectacle. While one could hardly expect anything different these days, the endlessly-cynical-yet-ever-hopeful movie buff in me still feels a tad slighted. “But it’s a giant monster movie,” I hear you cry. “You go to see monsters, monsters, monsters, and it’s ridiculous to expect anything more.” Well, no, it isn’t, any more than it’s ridiculous to expect more than a CGI extravaganza in any movie, be it superhero, action-adventure, science-fiction/fantasy/horror, comedy, or pure drama. But movies play to their perceived audience, and the perception is clearly that a monster movie needs little more than a big-ass budget, a few recognizable names, and a houseful of kitchen sinks to hit the mark.

So be it. On those terms, G vs. K isn’t exactly a waste of time. Legendary’s version of Godzilla turns in a more entertaining performance than he did in either of his previous two films, and he even boasts a marginally better design. Now, our big guy is still a weirdly proportioned walking mountain, with a tiny head and bloated physique; however, this go-round, his proportions appear a tad better balanced, and his posture and movements convey a distinctly reptilian menace. Not since Shin Godzilla has an incarnation of Big G emitted more high-powered light rays and fried more shit from exceptional distances. I do love the fact that this film treats us to an honest-to-Godzilla rampage that reduces a lot of city-shaped pixels to rubble-shaped pixels. I suppose I could even go so far as to credit many of the Godzilla scenes with keeping me awake longer than I might have otherwise managed, even if the story had been more engaging.

Kong, who looks pretty much like he did in Kong: Skull Island, only bigger, spends a lot of time airborne. Leaping, flying, floating, and — in a worthy nod to Toho’s original King Kong vs. Godzilla — traveling by way of a balloon airlift. Another (slightly) pleasant surprise is that Kong’s interactions with young Jia, a deaf-mute girl who is able to communicate with him via sign language, take up a relatively tiny portion of the film’s running time. From the trailers I had seen, I had feared this potentially saccharine trope might overwhelm the film’s other, slightly less saccharine tropes. It did not. Jia, who is played by deaf actress Kaylee Hottle, is treated respectfully, and of all the kids ever to appear in a giant monster movie, I might categorize Jia as the least annoying ever. I suppose that is something.

Hallo, how are you, nice day.

Boom!

Boom!

Eiza Gonzalez as Maia Simmonds

The human cast? Ah, the human cast. Not much happening here. Not due to lack of talent, just a lack of material. Alexander Skarsgaard plays the boyishly charming Dr. Nathan Lind, who leads an expedition into the hollow Earth (established in the previous film) to find a nebulous power source that exists there as well as to take Kong “home.” He has to take Kong home because, if he doesn’t, Godzilla, as a rival apex predator, will be duty-bound to whoop up on him. Rebecca Hall plays Kong expert Ilene Andrews, whose primary job — apart from being Jia’s mother — is to remind us every few minutes that Kong bows to no one (“no one” meaning Godzilla). Naturally, Millie Bobby Brown returns as Madison Russell to spout conspiracy theories, offer the occasional snarky line, and walk everywhere with a rapid, purposeful stride. For our requisite lovable, conspiracy theory–driven protagonist, we have Bernie Hayes, played by Brian Tyree Henry. On his own, Henry comes across as engaging enough, though he is unable to conjure up an ounce of chemistry with any of the other players — a criticism that could be leveled at the entire cast, actually. Young Julian Dennison, as nerdy Josh Valentine, rounds out our eccentric group of do-gooders.

The do-gooders are trying to find out what Godzilla has against technological giant Apex Industries, run by smarmy Walter Simmonds, played by Demián Bichir. I give nothing away by saying he’s not a good guy. Nor is his daughter, Maia, played by Eiza Gonzalez, whose specialty is slinging insults fast and hard. Move over, Boris and Natasha.

Alexander Skarsgaard as Dr. Nathan Lind, Rebecca Hall as Ilene Andrews, Kaylee Hottle as Jia Andrews

Julian Dennison as Josh Valentine, Millie Bobby Brown as Madison Russell, Brian Tyree Henry as Bernie Hayes

Demián Bichir as Walter Simmonds

The reward for sitting through the occasional character interaction is to finally witness what Apex Industries hath wrought. At first, I can’t say I was much taken with it, but it does actually seem to be growing on me. At worst, it offers an effective visual reminiscent of the scene of Lt. Goro Gondo’s demise in Toho’s Godzilla vs. Biollante (1989). If that description means anything to you, my hat comes off.

I am giving G vs. K three out of five Damned Rodan’s Dirty Firetinis, and leaving it at that. Thank you.

Hallo, how are you, nice day.

At the End of the Rainbow, There Is...a Deadpool?

Ms. Brugger was heard singing "Somewhere Over the Drive-in..."

Ms. Brugger and I had the fun night at the Eden Drive-in. Burgers! Fries! Wine! Solo! Deadpool 2! Plus a bit of water from the sky, a nice rainbow, and a gorgeous sunset. Happily, it did not rain during the movies. Sadly, the drive-in now runs 20 bloody minutes of commercials before the movie starts, which taxes my patience and makes the already late finishing time very late — as in 2:30 in the a.m. late. Regardless, going to the drive-in remains a treat, and we both really enjoyed the movies. I just don't get the hate for Solo. It's damn good fun and fits comfortably in the Star Wars canon. It is fucking entertainment, for chrissakes. Its worst moments are 10,000 times better than the best moments of The Phantom Menace, and more flat-out fun than most of the more recent Star Wars films.

Deadpool 2 was a hoot, mostly living up to its predecessor, which I also quite like. It's definitely not a kids' film, though that did not stop a score or so of the locals from bringing their young ones.

All things considered, especially considering the dearth of drive-in theaters these days, I'm mighty glad to have one reasonably nearby, and whatever its pitfalls, I'll suffer them for the overall joy of the experience.

Sunset over the drive-in

Trauma of the Living Dead

I was saddened to hear of George Romero's passing yesterday. What a career he had — and what a driving force in the horror field. But if he had made no more movies after Night of the Living Dead, I suspect Romero might still have attained legendary status. Night scared the daylights out of countless moviegoers, including my mom (and possibly my dad), and it traumatized me years before I even got to watch it....

1968:
I remember that first TV commercial for Night, or at least a portion of it — a brief shot of one of the undead gnawing on a human hand; a shot of a desiccated, staring skull; a shrill, nerve-shattering scream. I was eight or nine years old at the time, and that advertisement cost me serious sleep over a couple of evenings. In fact, this movie looked scary enough that I was pretty sure I didn't even want to see it.

But then the kicker: Night of the Living Dead came to one of our local drive-in theaters on a double bill with Ghidrah, The Three-Headed Monster. Now, whatever my feelings about flesh-eating zombies, I was by this time in life a serious daikaiju geek, and the opportunity to see a Godzilla movie at the theater was not one to pass up. Naturally, I asked my parents if they'd take me. They answered with the dreaded "maybe."

What happened was that Mom and Dad went to the drive-in to check out the movies, to see if they were "okay" for the likes of me. Well, the next day, Mom very firmly told me I could not go. Night of the Living Dead was just way too much. Those zombies were eating people! I assured her I didn't want to see Night of the Living Dead, I just wanted to see Ghidrah.

"You're not going anywhere near that drive-in theater!" was my traumatized mother's reply.

And so, no Ghidrah for me that go-round. In fact, much to my dismay, it was years later before I got to see it — well into high school, if I remember. As for Night of the Living Dead, I believe I was in college when I finally got to experience that treat. By then hardly traumatizing, but it certainly entertained me. And to this day, it remains one of my favorite horror movies. My most memorable experience with it was Halloween 1983 — my first in Chicago — when Night played on a double-feature with Eraserhead at the sadly long-gone Varsity Theater in Evanston. And just a few years ago, the Rives Theater in Martinsville — where I saw the majority of the horror and monster movies of my youth — Night played as a midnight movie at Halloween.

Yeah, I don't know how many times I've seen it now, but I'll probably watch it quite a few more times before I pass on over myself. Not to mention the original Dawn of the Dead, which also rates among my favorites.

Thanks, George, for those treasured memories you've provided. I remember you for those, but I know many folks who will remember a warm and genuine soul who touched their lives in many other wonderful ways. R.I.P.

Deer Damage

One deer: dead (R.I.P., deer). One Mazda 3: a bit cracked up.

Helluva scare for Ms. B. late last night — or rather, in the wee hours this morning. Kimberly and I wanted to hit the Eden Drive-In this weekend, and as I've been in Martinsville helping look after Mum, we decided just to meet in Eden. Poltergeist and Mad Max: Fury Road were showing, which looked like a fun enough double bill. The former movie — hardly unexpectedly — was in dire need of a writer, a director, some actors... you know, movie stuff and all, and Mad Max was pretty decent, much on par with The Road Warrior. The burgers at the Eden Drive-In are to die for, by the way. (I know, I know; under the circumstances, that might not be the best use of hyperbole, but there it is.) Afterward, we departed in our respective vehicles, but it was only a few minutes later that I received a call from an understandably rattled Kimberly. Something — she knew not what — had slammed into her car and shattered the windshield. As I hurried back to meet her, some distance shy of where she was pulled off the road, I encountered a good-size dead deer: clearly, the cause of the upset. By the time I reached her, only a couple of minutes later, a pair of officers were already on the scene.

Now we got to take a good look at her vehicle, and the damage was far more extensive than it initially appeared. Shattered windshield. Broken rear-view mirror. Dented side panel. And crunched rear door. Thankfully, apart from her nerves, Kimberly was fine. The car is going to need some serious medical attention, but I reckon that's better than one of us needing it. Almost ironically, on our way to the theater, we had seen a deer bounding across the highway at top speed and remarked on it — at almost exactly the same location of her accident. Not out on a country road, mind you, but on the main highway through Eden.

As an aside, it was very refreshing, after seeing so much negative about the police lately, that the law enforcement officers who responded — the local sheriff and a deputy — were prompt, sympathetic, cordial as can be, and quick to provide an official report in case it's needed for Kimberly's insurance. My hat's off to those folks.

On my drive back to Martinsville, which did involve some lonely back roads, deer were everywhere, and no less than three darted out in front of my car. All of this is a stern reminder how fast the unexpected can happen, and how severe the damage can be from a single deer strike. It could have been much worse, too. The critters are out there, you know, and they might just have your number. Beware!

The Bloody Pit of Horror

There's no denying it — the dreaded Drive-In Horror Movie Syndrome has seized me in its unbreakable clutches and forced me, against my will, to sit, watch, and revel in the delight of yet another monstrous melodrama from those far-off days of cinematic yore. In my recent review of Goké, Body Snatcher From Hell, I mentioned The Bloody Pit of Horror, which comprised the second half of the double bill that came round to the 220 Drive-In Theater in Martinsville, VA, sometime in 1977. I was 17 or 18 years old at the time, when horror double features were still a mainstay of the outdoor theater circuit. For me, Goké was an unsettling, jaw-dropping, mind-blowing experience; after that, The Bloody Pit was just another romp through the hallowed halls of cheap, garish horror. It's a 1965 Italian offering, made on a shoestring budget, ostensibly based on the works of the Marquis de Sade. It stars Mickey Hargitay (former Mr. Universe, husband of Jayne Mansfield, and father of Mariska Hargitay, of Law & Order SVU fame; Walter Brandi; Luisa Baratto; Alfredo Rizzo; Barbara Nelli; Moa Tahi; Femi Benussi; and Ralph Zucker (I bet you know all these folks on sight, right?). It's about a book publisher and his crew who visit what they believe to be a deserted castle in the remote Italian countryside, which they intend to use as the backdrop for bunch of cover photographs featuring scantily clad models in various S & M poses, complete with authentic medieval torture devices.

Little do these lovely people know the castle is actually inhabited by a retired, reclusive actor named Travis Anderson (Hargitay), who loathes trespassers. He orders them to depart, but then he recognizes one of the girls, whose name is Edith (Luisa Baratto), and his attitude abruptly changes. He apologizes for his rudeness and permits the crew to remain. Their good fortune, however, turns to the ultimate misfortune, for Travis believes he is the reincarnation of the Crimson Executioner, a 17th-century master of torture and death who was himself executed for his crimes against humanity, and he wastes no time demonstrating his affinity for antisocial behavior. His first victim is Perry (Nando Angelini), one of the models, who is bound on a "Pit and the Pendulum"–style killing device, which, despite the crew's "modification," actually works as it was originally intended. However, rather than flee from the castle and alert the authorities, boss publisher Max (Alfredo Rizzo) demands that work on their project continue. Before long, we have several more murder victims — one stabbed to death in a version of an Iron Maiden, another having his spine snapped, another getting an arrow through the neck. Edith reveals to photographer Rick (Walter Brandi) that she was once engaged to Travis, who was a muscle man in costume films and was, by her claim, "a little weird."

Finding the castle has been sealed off, the surviving crew members begin looking for ways to escape. In the process, Rick finds model Kinojo (Moa Tahi) shackled in an elaborate, gigantic spiderweb and menaced by a mechanical spider, whose fangs have been designed to inject poison. Although the web is rigged to release arrows at anyone who attempts to make his way past it, Rick valiantly endeavors to rescue Kinojo. He avoids tripping any arrows, but he is an instant too late to save the girl. The spider "bites" her, and she dies instantly.

Rick's attempt to save Kinojo proves a crucial diversion, for Travis now grabs Edith and takes her to the dungeons below the castle, which once belonged to the original Crimson Executioner himself. The rest of the survivors have also been rounded up here, and Travis begins to gleefully torture each one of them — one on the rack, another made to endure Chinese water torture, another scalded by boiling oil. Travis reserves the worst for Max, who is trapped inside a metal cage and burned alive. Travis chains Edith to a device that is something of an inverse of the Brazen Bull — the victim being bound atop the bull while a fire is lit inside it. But before the executioner can finish off his former fiancée, Rick appears and engages Travis in a physical fight. He is hopelessly outmatched, but in a stunning display of brains over brawn, Rick maneuvers himself behind a mannequin with lethal spikes protruding from its torso, and in his zeal to attack, Travis impales himself, thus ending, once and for all, the Crimson Executioner's reign of terror.

For a movie that, on the surface, appears to be little more than a vehicle for one gory death after another, very little graphic violence actually makes its way to the screen — most of it is merely suggested, taking place off-camera, or achieved with props so unconvincing you wonder the actors didn't cackle themselves themselves to death. Budgetary constraints allowed for little alternative, and in fairness, some of the scenes, such as the spiderweb torture chamber, manage some degree of amusing novelty. By never taking itself very seriously, The Bloody Pit of Horror, for all its depictions of depravity, by today's standards comes across as pretty good-natured. The cast members, most of whom act about as well as I do on a bender, appear to be having a fine time for the camera, which I hope is true, since they couldn't have been paid very much for this project. Mickey Hargitay, with his cinema strong man status, couldn't be much more apt for the role of a madman consumed by vanity and psychotic cruelty. He plays the part with real enthusiasm, fittingly garbed in wrestler's tights and theatrical executioner's mask.

If there's anything about this movie I really love, it's the music score by Gino Peguri. It's so very Italian and so very 1960s — lyrical, lounge-lizard music worthy of Martin Denny or Les Baxter. With its bossa nova beat, cooing female vocalist, and warbling organ, the frequently used main theme is so serene that its contrast with the mock violence on-screen is almost surreal — kind of like getting a gentle neck massage while your house is collapsing around you.

The Something Weird Video DVD, which I rented from Netflix, features several deleted scenes, which provide a little extra fun; in fact, it's quite a shame they were deleted to begin with. One of them addresses perhaps the most inexplicable moment in the movie: Max's adamant refusal to stop work and call the authorities after the first violent death. It's pretty lame, but even that is an improvement on the scene as it stands. Model and first murder victim Perry (Nando Angelini), who mostly runs around the set dressed in a skeleton costume, gets a bit more screen time than in the final cut, and he appears to be having the best time of anyone on the set. For the deleted scenes alone, I recommend the Something Weird Video DVD release over other options, though the movie can be viewed in its entirety on YouTube for free.

Without question, The Bloody Pit of Horror is one bloody bad pit but a pretty good hoot, so it is absolutely spot-on for satiating the most fearsome hunger pangs brought on by the dreaded Drive-In Horror Movie Syndrome. If you happen start feeling them yourself, do check out this movie.

Godzilla at Geeksboro!

If were still a very young man, say, twelve or fifty four years old, I might get pretty excited over this. Last summer, the Geeksboro Coffeehouse Cinema here in Greensboro ran a couple of Godzilla movies outdoors — the original Godzilla and Destroy All Monsters, if I recollect properly — though I didn't manage to get over to see them. Coming up at Geeksboro, to celebrate the Legendary Pictures Godzilla looming on the theatrical horizon, we have a regular borgasmord of daikaiju. (What, you never saw that Underwood Deviled Ham commercial with Mason Reese way back when?) Matter of fact, I recently went on a bit of a Godzilla DVD binge, and the latter three of these here — Godzilla vs. Biollante, Godzilla: Tokyo SOS, and Godzilla: Final Wars — were among those still in the queue to satiate the Godzilla craving, so I reckon I'll hold off watching them (for the 30th, 20th, and 10th times, respectively, or something like that). Now, I must say, I've yet to figure out why Ms. Brugger seems to think that a place called Geeksboro is just the ticket for a daikaiju enthusiast such as me, but... whatever. It's not as if I ever once pestered the owner of a drive-in theater in Martinsville to change the line-up of their movies so they'd run Destroy All Monsters first, so my dad would actually take my friend Frank and me to see it on my twelfth birthday. Really, I didn't. That story was a lie!

Saved by Funnel Fries?

Sometimes, a combination of unforeseen circumstances and marginally good decision-making provides fodder for a little cautionary tale. Last night, Ms. B. and I spent a most enjoyable evening at the Eden drive-in theater watching Final Destination 5 and Fright Night. It's one of our favorite places to catch movies, since I've been a drive-in junkie since I was a wee young-un (according to my folks, my very first movie outing was Disney's Babes In Toyland at a drive-in theater; and do hush about my age). Per our custom, we indulged in some delicious but ever-so-naughty cheezburgers, fries, chocolate chip cookies, and tasty adult beverages. Even though the spirits flowed freely for a while, we had enough sense, or something akin to it, to put a lid on the drink at the end of the first feature.

Then...despite our calorie and cholesterol intake already being through the roof...I took it to heart to sample the drive-in's funnel fries, which I could smell cooking and had me salivating a freaking river. Oh, my lord...funnel fries are GOOD—and, I'm pretty sure, an excellent means of neutralizing alcohol. When it came time to leave, I was quite confident that I was good to drive because it had been a couple of hours since capping the bottle, and we had consumed monstrous quantities of unhealthy food in the bargain.

Thus it was that, on the way down the road, we saw a pair of blue flashing lights in the distance and figured that someone had been pulled over. As we neared the patrol cars, the vehicle in front of us slowed down, and I slowed down, as required by law, and we went on by, as we ordinarily would. Apparently, though, the officers were setting up a checkpoint and intended for us to stop, but as I could not see through the car up front, I never saw the troopers until we were past them. So, no doubt a little peeved, both of them come after us and pulled over both me and the driver of the car up front—who clearly should have understood the officers' intent.

Needless to say, the trooper asked about our evening's activities, which I answered truthfully, and he had me take a breathalyzer test. Happily, I blew well under the legal limit, and he wished me a good and safe evening—then rushed over to assist his buddy checking out the driver of the car in front of me, who, I suspect, probably did not register safely in the sober range.

So...while I clearly could have made many healthier choices last evening, at least I avoided what could have been a very ugly situation, not just for the night but potentially long-term. You can bet the mental file of the experience is brightly highlighted in my brain's little directory of folders. Also highlighted is a happy little footnote about the virtues of funnel fries....

Do drink responsibly.

As for the pictures themselves:

Final Destination 5 is less a movie with a plot than an ongoing exercise in cleverness, but it's beaucoup fun and features an ingenious tie-in to the original film in the series; I know I've seen at least one of the others, but I'm not sure which. Fright Night departed considerably from the original, which I thought worked in its favor. Colin Farrell was much better than I expected. The first half had some effective moments of intrigue, but then it just got noisy. The characters were nothing to brag on, though David Tennant was pretty good. With just a little tweaking, this could have been a decent stand-alone vampire movie minus the Fright Night title; and that's probably what it should have been.