Summer Re-Reading: American Monsters

A few summers ago, my interest in cryptozoology was rekindled. Initially nurtured in my childhood by a steady diet of my parents’ copies of World News and the National Enquirer, this interest has re-emerged thanks in part to a new interest in folklore as well as listening to a number of excellent crytpid and folklore related podcasts and reality television shows. Once a niche filed of ineterst, well-written and academic reading about such creatures as the Mothman, Bigfoot and others has also  become much more readily available. Though there was magic in the halcyon days of Bat Boy, the writing has also become more polished, professional and consistently entertaining.

Due to the clean writing style and accessible nature of her writing, Linda S. Godfrey has quickly found her way to my nightstand as one of my go-to cryptid informer and literary palette cleansers. “One of America’s foremost experts on mystery creatures”, Godfrey’s books take a journalistic approach to retelling anecdotes and presenting histories of a variety of “monsters”, both familiar and unfamiliar. American Monsters: A History of Monster Lore, Legends, and Sightings in America spans an extensive timeline of experiences, often relayed through first-hand accounts of a multitude of incidents with mysterious creatures. While re-reading sections this summer, I was also pleased to see the number of secondary sources from smaller publishes she references, in particular, those dealing with local or regional folklore.

"Wendigo" illustration, page 254.

The encyclopedic text is divided into three parts, Air, Sea and Land, and further organized into chapters. Each chapter is then broken into small accounts of related creatures ranging in length from one to four pages. The anecdotes also include reference to numerous sources, information from which is used so effectively I found myself keeping a small "to read" list of these small press publications. This org -group. The book opens, for example, with “Part One: Monsters by Air”, beginning with “Chapter 1. Feathered Fiends” before moving into tales of Bigclaw, the Micmac Culloo and other historical Big Birds. In a language that is conversational and a tone that is suggests a suspension of disbelief, the writer comes across as neither pandering nor naive. Godfrey clearly lays out the experiences of  individuals in a manner that evokes each the eerie mood of each encounter and evokes the historical and cultural context from which each emerged.

One of the book’s chief accomplishments, beyond being wildly entertaining, is taking advantage of opportunities to add additional layers of insight to those topics readers might incorrectly presume they have heard everything about. The expert here is clearly Godfrey and she’s come equipped with multiple approaches to each subject. An excellent example of this is the section entitled “Challenge of Chupacabres.” Having seen the X-Files episode as well as one or two short videos on YouTube, it might be easy to assume one has all the relevant information necessary to make a personal call on the existence of this “hell monkey”.  While not offering a definitive answer on the existence of chupacabres, Godfrey does provide some examples of encounters and sightings with ancillary creatures that may be related to the Chupacabra phenomenon. Throughout the text, Godfrey also provides samples of photographic evidence and illustrations that range from the evidentiary to the ornamental. (As an aside, that evidence which is referenced throughout, but not included here, is readily available via a quick online search.)

American Monsters is a very entertaining and informative summer reading selection which continues to foster a personal interest in unusual creatures and the zeitgeist from which they sprang. In so many ways, each story is telling a small piece of the American story, which I continue to find fascinating. My guess is that if you take the chance to pick-up this unique tome, you will find the same.

*Originally posted 7/23/18, Revised 7/16/2020

Holiday Flick: Smoke (1995)

The story shared by Auggie (Harvey Keitel) to Paul (William Hurt).
As often happens, I have fallen behind--about two-years behind--in posting my Twelve Days of Holiday Movies. Here I sit a week away from Christmas Eve thinking about a movie I first blogged about in 2011. Though as much a "Christmas movie" as the original Die Hard (1988), in my mind it still counts. While the original Mighty Joe Young (1949), and King Kong  (1933) will always be Thanksgiving movies for me, and The Greatest Story Ever Told  (1965) is must-see viewing for Easter season, Smoke, and in particular the closing credits, is must-see Christmas viewing.

Wayne Wang and Paul Auster's Smoke (1995) is one film I make a point to watch during the Christmas season every year since I first saw it. Though not a family film (it's Rated R for language), Smoke is an ensemble piece starring Harvey Keitel, William Hurt, Harold Perrineau, Stockard Channing, and Forrest Whitaker, among others. Featuring multiple converging storylines, it speaks to such relevant holiday themes such as the many faces of redemption, the necessity of finding family and the power of compassion.

Back-in-the-day, Smoke, and it's follow-up Blue In the Face (1995), were frequently advertised as slapsticky, New Yawk comedies (such as on the most common, and goofy, DVD packaging seen here). Promoted with (then) celebrity cigar smokers and an with emphasis on the more humorous moments, this movie, however, has much more going on below the surface. The slipcase designed for release in Asian markets (pictured to the upper left) offers a more evocative (not to mention holiday themed) image.

I can't recall exactly how I first got turned on to this movie, almost twenty-five years ago now, but I do remember buying a VHS copy of it in a supermarket one day on my way to work. At one magic point in our culture, rare and unusual movies could be had on VHS for two bucks as the marketplace was transitioning to DVD. Up until our VHS player went the way of the dodo ten years ago,  I would watch Smoke each year at just around this time. Taken as a whole, Smoke is not easily pigeon-holed as a “holiday film” (which is a good thing), though the values it eschews do seem especially relevant at this time of year.

The final five minutes are most overtly holiday-themed which contributes to its easy selection as a  holiday film, much more so than the aforementioned Die Hard. Originally published as "Auggie Wren's Christmas Story" by writer (and the co-director and screenplay writer for Smoke) Paul Auster (a version of which is available here), the final moments of the film show what is told earlier in the movie. The set-up is this: two of the primary characters, Auggie and Paul, are having lunch. Paul is a columnist who needs to submit an essay to the New York Times for its holiday edition. Auggie (the cigar store owner whose own story is intertwined with those of the other characters) has a story he'll share for lunch. The emotional impact of Auggie’s story is further punctuated by the Tom Wait’s song, "You Dream," which accompanies it.

The story acted out and set to "Innocent When You Dream" by Tom Waits.

Unfortunately, hard copies of Smoke in DVD/Blu-ray are difficult to come by. Nor is it available on Netflix or Amazon Prime for direct streaming. Thanks to the magic your local public library (in my hometown of Rochester, New York, there are two copies for borrowing), Smoke is worth seeking out.

Great stuff, and just one of many evocative scenes from an excellent film.

Summer Reading: Lovecraft's Monsters

Recently I shared with an old friend my struggle finding Lovecraft-inspired material not written by the author himself. For every "Worms of the Earth" by Robert E. Howard there are a myriad of lesser attempts at aping H.P. Lovecraft's unique vision.

Given the wealth of Cthulhu mythos "fan-fic" available, the challenge is not in finding content, but rather in discovering stories that entertain without proving too derivative. A few days after this conversation, I returned to a Lovecraft anthology I had purchased many months earlier that had been repeatedly relegated to my "to be read" pile after only two of the stories had been read. Fortunately, this proved to be a mistake on my part. With a long car/train ride ahead of me, I once again picked up Lovecraft's Monsters and after enjoying the next two stories I turned to and was heartened by what I read.

The secret of quality Lovecraft inspired stories, to my personal tastes at any rate, is demonstrated by the majority of stories in this collection, edited by Hugo and Bram Stoker Award-winning editor Ellen Datlow. The challenge met by many of the pieces selected by Datlow is transferring elements of Lovecraft's work, such as mood and subtle characterization, into a setting or circumstance that, while clearly influenced by the source, extends those ideas into a new direction including culture, setting and time period. The organization of the text as a whole, including the front (Foreword by Stefan Dziemianowicz) and  back matter ("Monster Index"), contributes to a high quality presentation of the stories, even if a few fall flat for this reader.  

Each story is preceded by a single panel image that foreshadows a key event in the story to follow. While not always the case, many of the images are of the monsters encountered in the story to follow. When this is not the case,  the aforementioned "Monster Index" by Rachel Fagundes fills in the gaps by including both narrative and visual sketches of key Lovecraftian monsters that appear throughout. A  handy cross-referencing of

John Coulthart provides evocative
and creepy illustrations such
as this one that precedes "Red 
Goat Black Goat.

monsters with the stories in the anthology allows for the reader to choose those stories that feature favorites first. As an effective collection probably should, Lovecraft's Monsters is both a fine collection of ancillary stories by writers others than Lovecraft as well as a good introduction to the world of the author. When a recognizable monster, such as The King in Yellow or Azathoth, included in the back of the collections

Some stories such as "Only the End of the World Again" by Neil Gaiman and "Black As the Pit, From Pole to Pole" by the duo of Howard Waldrop and Steve Utley take a monster mash-up approach by pairing Lovecraftian creatures with more familiar ones (the Wolf Man and Frankenstein's Monster respectively). While entertaining and clever to this fan of Lawrence Talbot and the traditional horror icons, it is the more straightforward "new" tales that kept me reading. In each case, the author chooses to mix another literary genre with a dash of Lovecraft to effectively deliver compelling new takes on familiar creature. Standouts include:

• "Bulldozer" by Laird Barron, pages 33-62. Set in the Old West, this is the story of a "Pinkerton man" on a "hunting expedition to the West." (48) As a bulldozer, a colloquialism for an investigator/security, our protagonist Jonah Koenig is on the trail of a criminal. This is not just any ordinary bad guy, however, but an individual who very clearly has taken part in rituals and dark magic related to Belphagor, one of the seven princes of Hell. Employing a contemporary narrative structure to the story (translation: unusual chronology of plot points), Barron ratchets up the tension and drama. As a fan of the neo-Western, I found this one very engaging. 
• "That of Which We Speak When We Speak of the Unspeakable" by Nick Mamatas, pages 303-312. Mamatas' vignette is a snapshot of a trio of revelers awaiting the end of the world, beginning of a return of the old Gods, depending on how you look at it. The characters reflect this dual anticipation in that one welcomes them, acting as a self-appointed prophet, while others fear for what is to come. The contemporary setting and familiar perspectives on the nature love in modern society help to make this a particular relatable story. While some of the stories in the anthology only suggest Lovecraft's creatures (for example "Bulldozer"),"That of Which" explicitly namedrops the shoggoths who arrive to welcome the new day (night). 

Other standouts include "Red Goat Black Goat" by Nadia Bulkin (65-76) and "The Same Deep Waters As You" by Brian Hodge (79-115). Whether a Lovecraft enthusiast or seeking an introduction to his rich world of dark magic and monsters, Lovecraft's Monsters, edited by Ellen Datlow and published Tachyon is an beach read... especially at dusk.

Read It: The Lone Ranger Rides North (1946)

This edition includes the erroneous character creator credit of the Lone Ranger 

to radio station manager George Trendle. Some of the basic ideas were his,

but were fleshed out to great success by Fran Striker.

Recently, I spent nearly six hours in a hospital waiting room as my mother underwent back surgery. With all the class papers graded, I turned to the pile of books I have been periodically reading on-and-off for (what turns out to be) a ve-e-e-ry long time. One book in particular provided an opportunity to escape the waiting room and travel back to those thrilling days of yesteryear...

This volume is easy to find online

at a very affordable price, though I

went to Berkeley, CA, to get mine.

Three summers ago, while visiting my best friend in California, we found ourselves in an independent used bookstore in Berkeley. There I came across an old volume entitled The Lone Ranger Rides North written by Fran Striker. Despite being a Western New Yorker myself, I had little prior understanding that Striker was not only from nearby Buffalo, New York, but was also the creator of both the Lone Ranger and the Green Hornet. Given the volume's slight price, and as a fan of both the character's classic Clayton Moore iteration (the one I, like most, are best acquainted with) as well as it's modern Dynamite comicbooks' version, it was a purchase that could not be resisted.

Published in 1946, The Lone Ranger Rides North is comprised of thirty chapters in which are developed three storylines, which when combined, read very much like one of the Clayton Moore's 169 episodes (or the 52 made with replacement Ranger John Hart). It is easy to envision these stories as some that were ultimately serialized for either radio or television. Present in the story are the familiar plot points of traditional Hollywood cowboy heroics: slick, smooth talking criminals, kind-hearted regular folk put in danger and in need of rescue, and our masked hero needing to clear his own name from the nefarious deeds committed by another.

The interesting reveal in this novel for fans is the introduction of a young boy named Danny who idolizes and feels a connection to the Lone Ranger. Long time Lone Ranger fans will recall that "Danny" is actually Dan Reid, the Ranger's long lost nephew whom he believed dead. In modern Ranger stories, including the recent box-office failure Gore Verbinski's The Lone Ranger (2013), Danny is such an integral part of our hero's origin that the reader likely connects the dots earlier than the novel's original audience. This Lone Ranger is much more mysterious here with only the most common characterization traits, including his faithful companion Tonto and their trusty steeds, in tact. Freed of the contemporary necessity for explanation of every single, minute facet of a character's background, the hero of The Lone Ranger Rides North draws much of his strength from his mysterious background. Here, he is a force of good who does not need the humanizing relationship of extended family to elicit the support of the reader.

Given Striker's professional training as a radio theater writer, the storytelling approach is dialogue heavy with most exposition taking place at the beginning of each chapter. Our narrator is so extremely third person omniscient that he frequently (and with language bordering on melo-drama) takes the reader into each character's head to reveal feelings that might otherwise be reflected in the voices of actors delivering the lines. For example, maudlin lines such as the one below saying of Danny that "there were tears in his eyes--tears of pride and gratitude" would be cringe worthy if not for the proper historical context. In 1946, in a story about the heroic Lone Ranger, this time of syrupy language seems somehow appropriate in a tale of "the resourceful masked rider of the plains."

The Lone Ranger Rides North (1946) by Fran Striker is readily available online for less than $10, a more-than-worthwhile purchase for Ranger and fans of Americana alike.

Revisiting the FF's Rise & Fall

Unable to find a trailer on YouTube for Fantastic 4: Rise of the
Silver Surfer but each official one had embedding to share as
"disabled by request." These are just some of my credentials.

This Friday, the third attempt at establishing a "successful" film franchise for Marvel Comics' First Family will be released when Josh Trank's Fantastic Four hits the screens. Though never released theatrically, yet available as a bootleg, I am including the famously low-budget effort, Roger Corman's 1994 The Fantastic Four in that total.  Somewhat surprisingly, despite making significant profits for distributor 20th Century Fox,  the last two Tim Story-directed Fantastic Four films have been deemed "failures" worthy of being forgotten.

While I will see Trank's film in theaters opening weekend, and having seen each film iteration of the team's exploits, I still maintain that the criticism levied against both Fantastic Four (2004) and Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (2007) is unwarranted. In truth we may never get a big-budget film that reflects the classic FF story as closely as the 2007 sequel. While I hope to be entertained this weekend at the movies, from what little footage that has been made available (all the trailers/ads seem to consist of the same two minutes of film re-edited), because the filmmakers opted to go the Ultimate Universe route, my optimism is muted.

I write here, however not to bury the new Fantastic Four movie, but to praise the previous one. Chances are that if you've read this far you know the basics of the plot to 2007's Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer: The Fantastic Four (Ioan Gruffudd, Jessica Alba, Chris Evans, Michael Chiklis) learn that they aren't the only super-powered beings in the universe when they square off against the powerful Silver Surfer (Laurence Fishburne and Doug Jones) and the planet-eating Galactus while their old nemesis, Doctor Doom (Julian McMahon) waits in the wings. Whether you "like" either film, it is clear that Rise of the Silver Surfer is a much more confident film than the first; the returning cast is much more comfortable in their respective roles, and without the need to address (again) the origin story, the narrative moves on to a more interesting "World's Greatest Comic Magazine" story.

Beyond relative vagaries of "like" or "dislike," there seem to be four quibbles that fanboys have with Story's films, as exemplified in Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer, and I'll take them individually. Not surprisingly, the majority of the perceived issues I'll address reflect the process of difficulty in bringing to life cinematically those characters that so many have visualized in their imaginations for many years.

• An inconsistent or "silly" tone. In retrospect, Story's take may have been ahead of it's time. Released during the popularity of the grittier, psuedo-intellectual Christopher Nolan Batman films, some may not have been ready to have fun with superheroes, at least the way they are now (see last summer's The Guardians of the Galaxy for further evidence). Rise successfully evokes the classic humorous mood reflected in the camaraderie and affection our characters have for one another.  Story and his cast nail the characterization of each teammate. Many rightly pointed to the excellent dynamic between Johnny Storm (Chris Evans) and Ben Grimm (an underrated Michael Chiklis), but upon repeated viewings I have grown to appreciate Gruffudd and, especially Alba's, performances too. Alba plays Sue as strong, sweet and intelligent. As a longtime comic book fan, Alba's Sue is developing into the field leader the Invisible Woman has since become, and I only wish they'd had the courage to allow Alba to play the role without the faux blue eyes and blonde hair (an option co-star Chris Evan's apparently did have). When depicting the smaller moments in the life of Marvel's First Family, the comedic elements are brought to the forefront. The tone suitably shifts to a more serios one when telling the Surfer/Galactus story. Much like Ant-Man (2015), Rise is consistently inconsistent in tone, which is to suggest it honors both necessary aspects of the source material (if not seamlessly) that the narrative dictates.

Note Ben Grimm's size relative to his teammates in the Kirby
influenced panel to the right and the shot from F4: RoSS.

• The Thing looks like a lumpy, "regular" guy with a skin condition. Actually, for what it's worth, Ben Grimm and the Thing (both played by Chiklis) look pretty much how they were originally envisioned by creators Stan Lee and Jack Kirby. While many would rather have had a CGI Thing (something they'll get with the new film), the decision to use a "suit" was pretty bold given what producers knew  movie goers might have expected to see. The fact that the Thing was not depicted as eight feet tall and five feet wide only helps to reinforce the greatness of the character; Ben Grimm is a man trapped in a deformed but powerful facade. Ben Grimm is a man who gift came at a cost, unlike his teammates. There is a scene in Silver Surfer where Johnny, having acquired the ability to switch powers with the team after tangling with the Surfer, becomes a "Thing" himself. Not just a goofy shot, Johnny's response to momentarily sharing Grimm's burden reminds us how strong Ben is not to snap completely given his permanent physical state. This was just one of many smaller moments that Story deftly weaves into the larger narrative that reminds the viewer that the four really are just "regular" folks caught up in fantastic circumstances.

Classic Marvel 616 Dr. Doom and
Doctor Doom from FF: RoSS as played 
by Julian McMahon.

• They messed up Doctor Doom. I had not seen Nip/Tuck prior to Julian McMahon playing Victor Von Doom, but having watched the six seasons since, I totally understand why the studio tapped him for the role. In Rise, Doom is written in a manner that better reflects the villain we love in the comic books, especially his manipulative nature and obsession with acquiring the power cosmic. Visually, the costuming (if not the power set) is without  a doubt spot on. For old school comic book fans, Doom's attire is very reminiscent of the updated look Doom acquired wa-a-a-a-ay back in the original Secret Wars (1984) limited series. For my money, McMahon successfully began to scratch the surface of what could have done with the character here, and if there was a weakness in his performance I would say the finger of blame would more fairly be pointed at the writers.

The introduction of the Ultimate Universe's Gah Lak Tus swarm
on the cover of Ultimate Extinction #3 and the Galactus cloud 
(recolored for enhancement in the still) in F4:RoSS.

• The Galactus "cloud"!? The director/producers couldn't win. They could have gone "full comic book" and given  us a gigantic, planet-eating man with a tuning fork on his head, or Ultimate Universe and introduce a horde of robotic drones operating with a shared hive mind. I think they actually went in the most reasonable direction, if one envisions the "cloud" as a "swarm" (though it was never fully detailed as such). The threat as presented in Rise is serious--Galactus is shown by the Silver Surfer to be capable of "eating" planets--a claim supported by Mr. Fantastic. 

With repeated viewings, the strengths of Tim Story's Fantastic Four films are clear: family friendly entertainment, that both honors the past and sensibly modernizes the story elements that might play as silly in a contemporary context. These qualities are sharpened in Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (2007), a film deemed a failure by fans despite winning it's opening weekend at the box office with a $58 million take, $2 million more than its predecessor. Ultimately, Rise ended its theatrical run by taking in nearly $290 million dollars on a $140 million dollar budget.

This weekend with Josh Trank's Fantastic Four the aesthetic elements others desired are going to be addressed: the Things is CGI, the tone is gritty and realistic, Doctor Doom is... well, you get the idea. Perhaps the younger, darker Ultimized version of the FF will connect with audiences and my favorites will finally be seen as the viable cinematic commodity comic book fans of the Four have always known them to be.

Source:
Wikipedia's FF: RoSS Entry

Summer Reading: Solaris

The cover from the 2002 edition attempts
 to capitalize on elements of romance further
developed in the film version.; the novel,
 however, is more concerned with the
relationship between the planet and it's
 protagonist, Kris Kelvin. 

Continuing my unplanned tour through the literary universe of science-fiction classics, I recently concluded a reading of Polish writer Stanislaw Lem's Solaris (1960), or, to be specific, the common translation of the French edition published in 1971 by Joanna Kilmartin and Steve Cox. If you are familiar with either the 1972 (directed by Andrei Tarkovsky) or 2002 (directed by Steven Soderbergh and starring George Clooney) film versions, the novel has a very different bent from both. Having recently re-watched (and enjoyed each for different reasons) both films, the novel is a much more satisfying traditional science-fiction experience. While both films focus primarily on the romantic relationship between primary characters, Lem's Solaris is much more a meditation on the relationship between man and the unknown.

At 19.00 hours, ship's time, I made my way to the launching 

bay. The men around the shaft stood aside to let me pass,

 and I climbed down into the capsule. (page 1)

Told from the first person perspective of the novel's protagonist, psychologist Kris Kelvin, Solaris details his experiences on a mission to the space station orbiting the planet. When his former instructor, Dr. Gibarian, and the crew of the space station begin experiencing some unusual anomalies, Kelvin is sent to determine what is amiss. When he arrives on the space station, Gibarian has recently committed suicide and much of who and what he encounters causes Kelvin to question both his own sanity as well as the intentions of the planet.

"Those are not facts, Kelvin. They are not even propositions. They are theories. 

You could say that it has taken account of our desires locked into secret recesses of 

our brains. Perhaps it was sending us... presents." Snow to Kelvin (192)

One of the themes explored by Lem is the implication of man's desire for contact with extraterrestrial life when no common ground exists on which the two species can connect. This issue stems from the assumption on the parts of most sci-fi (and UFO)  aficionados that should we encounter aliens they will in all likelihood physically resemble humans or at the very least communicate in a manner that is decipherable by humanity. In Solaris, the "alien" encountered (a planet-sized organism!) is so unique to humanity's experiences, that the shared efforts to  communicate or interact by both parties are seen as potentially aggressive in nature. When humanity seeks understanding of Solaris' perceived planetary surface via exposing it to an array of elements and radiation (a normal scientific response to an unknown would be assessing the discovery's response to certain stimuli), Solaris responds in kind by initiating interaction by creating physical manifestations drawn from the memories of loss each human visitor holds.

I closed my eyes. Her [Rheya's] heart was beating against mine. Her heart? 

A mere appendage, I told myself. But nothing surprised me any longer, 

not even my own indifference. ... (91)

It is the nature of the relationship between Kris and his "visitor", his late wife Rheya, that creates the opening for the romantic elements developed in both films. Here, though, Kris (and the reader) are much more aware of some of Solaris' physical properties which might account for the more analytical approach. The focus of the philosophical questions posed by the novel seem trained on the humanity-alien relationship rather than the human-human one.

Genius and mediocrity are dumbfounded by the teeming 

diversity of the oceanic formations of Solaris; no man has 

ever become genuinely conversant with them... (111)

Lem effectively conveys a scientific-sounding basis for the alien life form. The reader is given a significant amount of background on Solaris' composition and topography as Kelvin makes these discoveries for himself. Because he is led to review articles and documents cataloged on the space station while following clues left behind by the deceased Gibarian, Kelvin serves as Lem's vehicle for exposition. Kelvin's review of the research provides a detailed introduction to a somewhat sentient planet, though offers no resolution to some questions--how could it? Because the story is told from the protagonist's perspective the answers the reader craves cannot be answered as if the tale were being told my a third-person omniscient narrator.

Solaris by Stainslaw Lem is a classic in large part because of the deep philosophical questions it poses. This brief post does not even scratch the surface of all that Solaris touches upon (suicide, for example).  Despite potentially off-putting scientific language and an absence of traditional resolution, I found Solaris to be a very accessible and engaging (if nontraditional) summer read. The question I always find myself posing after reading good science-fiction, is "why aren't more ANY of these part of high school English curriculum?" Novels such as these (I would exclude the trendy and popular approved school reading list novels The Hunger Games or Twilight) strike me as a completely untapped reading resource for a variety of purposes...

From Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials (1987)

Holiday Flick: Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale (2010)

My introduction to the world of Rare Exports came two years ago when I  happened upon a film short entitled Rare Exports Inc. (2003), and its sequel Rare Exports: The Official Safety Instructions (2005). Produced and directed by Norwegian filmmakers Jalmari and Juuso Helander, both were produced as faux documentaries, and collaboratively contributed to developing a mythos around the exportation "distinguished, extremely rare products" to faraway countries from the wilds of Lapland (Finland).

Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale (2010) is the full-length fantasy film directed by Jalmari Helander that takes elements from both and develops them into a singular  origin story of sorts for the company's product about whom the earlier two "infomercials" are made. Set near the Korvatunturi mountain, Rare Exports tells of a young boy who inadvertently discovers the secret behind the "real" Santa Claus.

The film focuses on a group of local reindeer herders whose Christmas is disturbed by excavations on the mountain. A scientist has ordered a team of workers to dig open what he calls "the largest burial mound in the world". An explosive used by the team uncovers what is referred to as a "sacred grave". However, the occupant of the grave is still alive. Soon, the reindeer important to the local people are mysteriously killed, and children and supplies begin to disappear from the town. It emerges that the occupant is the source of the original Santa Claus myth; a supernatural being who, rather than rewarding good children, punishes the naughty. One family, however, manages to catch the culprit in a trap, and plans to sell it to the scientist to cover the losses caused by his excavation.

Jorma Tommila and Onni Tommila.

Tonally, the film deftly shifts from being a tale of a hard-working community suffering through financial times in the holiday season to a horror-noir. The soundtrack by Juri Seppä and Miska Seppä provides subtle auditory transitions, while never jerking the viewer out of the film experience. If the marketing of the film weren't so holiday-themed, the surprises and twists (of which there are a few) might carry even greater impact. The beautiful cinematography by Mika Orasmaa, as well as the superb performances by Jorma Tommila and Onni Tommila, as the father and son, respectively, at the center of the story, lend this movie an eerie mid-Eighties Spielberg-Carpenter vibe. Touching, scary, and beautifully rendered, this holiday-horror-fantasy does something extremely unique (at least in my experience) in recent film: it begs to be re-watched.

In a more discerning world, Rare Exports would find its way to becoming a cult-Christmas favorite, so help get that ball rolling by watching it on direct stream via Amazon Prime this holiday season!

Never a good idea to tease "Santa" with a gingerbread man cookie!

Sources:
Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale Wikipedia Entry

Further Down the Facial Hair Rabbit Hole?

Ho-ho-ho!?

Despite the apparent popularity of growing a beard during the month of November, the availability of hair care products designed for facial hair remains limited. (online they are plentiful, but I remain, for now, a like-to-hold-it-in-hands-before-purchase kind of shopper.) While I have been allowing my untamed facial hair to grow unchecked for periods of time ranging from one month to several months on-and-off for almost ten years now, I have rarely used any care products specifically designed for use with facial hair. (I have done some research though, most notably reading Jack Passion's Facial Hair Handbook, )

Thanks, Mom.

Occasionally I'll consider taking the beard-thing to the next level, and falling down the competitive bearding rabbit hole. This daydreaming is also usually not met with affection by my wife. Just the other day, I wondered aloud where one might buy beard-care products like moustache wax. Her response? "You go into the bathroom and shave it off!"

Even if I were inclined to buy specialized products, finding any for purchase at my neighborhood supermarket or convenience store would be near impossible. Twenty years ago, I vaguely recall using moustache (or "mustache" as is the more common spelling) wax to handlebar up a 'stache I was sporting. Wa-a-ay back then, the product (which I have zero idea where I obtained it from) came in a cylindrical tube much like lip balm. This past weekend while visiting with my mother, she inquired if I had been styling my beard with wax, and when I suggested that I might like to but didn't know where to buy it from, she suggested a local beauty supply shop. By the next day, my mother had stopped by to a shop and picked up a small tube of  Clubman Moustache Wax for me.

Before "waxing" (top)
and after. 

Ironically, it is during these moments when I begin to consider embracing the idea of the maintenance and appearance of my facial hair, that I wake up with the urge to roll out of bed, walk into the bathroom, and follow through with my wife's suggestion of buzzing the entire thing off. Invariably though, this act of initiating the "period when man with a beard shaves it off," is soon followed by, as famously suggested by Jean Cocteau, the wait to "return headlong to my [his] beard."

So what impact did using the wax have? Application was pretty simple, though I did watch a few Youtube videos illustrating just how to do so correctly. The overall impact was perhaps not noticeable by the casual observer, (see before and after pic to the right), but it did provide some lift to an otherwise unruly (and saggy) upper lip. The wax did help tame odd out-of-place hairs, as well as to provide some better overall structure for the 'stache. My beard is still in the early stages of growth (especially as compared to some of the magnificent examples I've come across online), so it's awkward look can not be avoided. In some ways, I have thus far cultivated the facial equivalent to a mullet: all business above the lip and a hillbilly party below.

With the questions of whether or not I am participating in No Shave November soon to be in the rare view mirror, and the queries about my status as a department store Santa soon to be oncoming, for today, at least I look forward to continuing to roll with the beard. That is, until I tire of it, shave and patiently await the next opportunity to return head long to my bearded state.

Comic Bookshelf: Queen Crab (2012)

Part horror, part romance and part sci-fi, Queen Crab by Palmiotti and
artist Artiz Eiguren is an all-engaging mature graphic novel.

With crab-handed characters making a comeback of sorts with the popularity of actor Evan Peters' Jimmy Darling on American Horror Story: Freak Show, now seems like a good time to briefly revisit the awesomeness of Jimmy Palmiotti's 2012 offering, Queen Crab.

Released as a slim, hard-covered graphic novel in 2012 by Image Comics, Queen Crab represents long time collaborative writer Palmiotti's initial foray into solo writing. After having been a long time fan of his work on the two most recent Jonah Hex series from DC (among other titles on which he's written), investing on a very reasonably priced $12.99 graphic novel was not much of a leap.

With thematic beats from sources ranging from Kafka's Metamorphosis to any number of jilted-lover romance novels, Queen Crab tells of the figurative and very literal transformation of protagonist Ginger. If the premise rings of your standard comic book origin story, the execution reflects a much more grounded and mature introduction to a promising character. While adjectives "grounded" and "mature" as comic book/movie descriptors have lost their luster in a time when nearly every such product attempts to be more grounded, and mature and financially successful than Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy, here the smaller, more personal scope of the conflict keeps the story from being overwrought with its own sense of self-importance.

The suggestive cover and titillating pin-ups included as extras by other artists not withstanding, Artiz Eiguren's artwork stays away from the cheesecake. Employing a visual style that veers away from a more traditional comic-book characterization of both Ginger's figure and transformation, Eiguren's art effectively evokes a horror vibe. With a color palette reminiscent of Richard Corben's recent Poe adaptations for Dark Horse Publishing, and with an overall style similar to that of Avatar Press star Jacen Burrows (The Courtyard and Neonomicon), the artwork blends three genres (romance/horror/sci-fi) into a single well-constructed tale.

The story is familiar: Ginger is getting married, and (surprise, surprise!) she is marrying the wrong guy. So wrong, in fact, that on their honeymoon, he attempts to murder Ginger by casting her overboard the cruise ship they are celebrating on. As her body sinks to the briny depths, something happens...

Beware blue underwater light shows!

The result of Ginger's underwater face-to-face with a blue light show are some impressive and unusual body modifications, as well as a desire for revenge. Soon after catching up with her husband the story jumps two years ahead when Ginger's former best friend and romantic friend-with-benefits from early on finally catch up with her in Florida. Rather than going the superhero route with her new talents, Ginger chooses to blend in, joining an aquatic show, in an effort to lead a semi-regular life. While not quite in a freak show, Ginger's occupation does seem permissible in the real world setting, as one that would allow her to exist without drawing undue attention to her situation.

I've reread Queen Crab a number of times since it found it's way to my comic bookshelf, and, as mentioned earlier, as a character worthy of further exploration, Ginger has promise. I also hope Palmiotti does not write a sequel. Not because I wouldn't buy, and very likely enjoy, it, but the themes and open-ended possibilities are better reflected by a natural next step for the character that remains only inn our imagination. We, the reader, don't know what comes next, though we do realize that Ginger has embarked on a great adventure. It would be just too obvious (and traditional) for us to be privy to where that adventure takes her. Sometimes a single experience with a strong character who's arc is completed by being incomplete just rings truer than the over the top explanations that would come along with more background and a sequel.

Comic Bookshelf: Doctor Strange Season One

Things get serious for Stephen Strange. Words by Greg Pak and stunning artwork from Emma Rios.

"I'm not evil. Just a little bit selfish. Just like you." 

Dr. Stephen Strange to fellow student Wong in Season One.

Though I have read quite a few back issues featuring Stephen Strange's Master of the Mystic Arts, Dr. Strange has never really been a headliner for Marvel Comics. With a Marvel movie in development, it is a safe bet that interest in Dr. Strange is likely to increase, and that whatever direction is taken with the character's origin will become the accepted standard.

Cover by
Julian Totino Tedesco. 

Marvel's hardcover Doctor Strange Season One, written by writer Greg Pak (Planet Hulk among others) and rising star Emma Rios (Osborn and Pretty Deadly), is one of the publisher's more recent attempts to introduce the character in a dynamic way that sticks with readers. Published in 2012, eight years after J. Michael Straczynski and Sara Barnes' 2004 more grounded take take on the origin story, Doctor Strange Season One again takes a pass at establishing a modern, cinematic view of the story. As heralded on the back cover, this was intended to modernize "the formative first days of Marvel's Master of the Mystic Arts." Unlike other characters that received the Season One treatment, such as the Fantastic Four, Iron Man and Spider-Man, Dr. Strange has always seemed to function on the periphery of superhero-dom, a fact that for me actually increases his appeal.

Consistent with early
Marvel tropes, green is
the color of evil, in
this case Baron Mordo's
magic.

Pak wisely jumps into Strange's origin at the entrance to the Temple of the Ancient One in the Himalayas, electing to recount the events that led our protagonist to this point in his life via flashback. A successful surgeon who has lost the use of his hands to a car accident, Strange is seeking the Ancient One's special "techniques" (at this point he cannot even bring himself to say "magic") in an effort to return to the selfish life of wealth and adulation he lived previously as an American doctor of medicine. It is from this point, and within the context of a search for "three rings of tremendous power," that the reader is introduced to the most common characters and elements of Strange's backstory: the evil Baron Mordo, his future servant/partner Wong, and his true flaw (which in classic Marvel-style is mental/psychological rather than purely physical), hi won hubris.

Usually portrayed as serious and somewhat humorless, here, the characterization of Stephen Strange is more glib. As a cinematic retelling of the origin, it is difficult not to look at it in light of Marvel's most popular onscreen re-imaging in recent memory, Iron Man. While the character has always had something of a physical resemblance to Iron Man's alter ego, Tony Stark, in Season One it is hard not to see much of Robert Downey Jr.'s goateed (in the early days both Stark and Strange were mustached), wise-ass in Stephen Strange. The characterization plays much like a magic-based analog to Stark's tech based character arc, though Strange's access to power is earned while Stark's is the product of his own innate intelligence. Not surprisingly, this theme of "earned power" or "earned worthiness of power" is echoed throughout Pak's retelling and is key to avoiding too great a similarity with Stark.

Likely in part due to both the characters she's been asked to draw and the dynamic staging of action panels, Rios's work has often been deemed "Ditko-esque". (For non-fanboys, artist Steve Ditko was the original artist for Spider-man and co-creator if Doctor Strange.) Rios does had a fantastic eye for filling in the panel completely with detail and action, squeezing as much out of each moment as possible. As drawn by Rios, at the onset, Strange is a weary and broken man. As he slowly begins to regain his humanity as he makes progress on his mystical path, there is a lightness to his presence on the page that reinforces the growth suggested in Pak's dialogue.

One minor drawback (depending on your personal cash flow) to Dr. Strange Season One, and for that matter the entire series of hardcover Season One books, is the cover price. Yes, the hard cover presentation and binding is gorgeous, but for your $24.99, there are only about 100 or so new pages of content. Additionally, this particular volume, there is also a 20 page reprint of the most recent effort to restart the Dr. Strange led team book, Defenders as well as a nine page sketchbook by Rios. My own willingness to purchase the hardcover upon its initial release was based on two factors: my desire to see Dr. Strange given the "star treatment" by his publisher and the creative pairing of Rios' artwork and Pak's writing. To its credit, Doctor Strange Season One is a highly entertaining reintroduction to a character whose presence in the Marvel Universes continues to grow. It also maintains a high level of readability value, thereby making its purchase price easier to accept, and my recommendation of it as very worthwhile.

Weekly Pull List: July 30

Lots of comic book goodness on the New Releases table this week!

Another Wednesday, another great New Comic Book Day!

For the uninitiated, new comic books are released for purchase every Wednesday, and in order to insure being able to purchase a copy of any given comic book, collectors will establish a "pull list" with their shop of choice. This means that the retailer orders you a copy of the books you prefer, and sets it aside (pulls it) for you to pick up at your convenience. During the summer, I have the great luxury of arriving at the comic shop at open (11 a.m.) every Wednesday, have my books pulled for me, and even have time to check out titles I did not ask for but may choose to purchase on a lark.

This week's pull list consisted of a number of new titles and the return of some older favorites who have been sidelined for a while:

• The Goon: Occasion of Revenge #1 (Dark Horse), written and illustrated by Eric Powell and Baltimore: Witch of Harju #1 (Dark Horse), written by Mike Mignola and Christopher Golden with art by Peter Bergting. Two of Dark Horses supernatural hunters return in mini-series this week. Yes, Goon was published last week, I neglected to pick it up then, so it made this week's pull list. Both titles do not require a reader having read past issues featuring either character, so in addition to beginning new storylines, each also serves as a goo jumping on point.
• I did not realize it until I got home, but both the Shadow Over Innsmouth One-Shot (Dynamite Publishing) and In the House of the Worm #1 (Avatar) feature art by Ivan Rodriguez. Working with very different settings, a fantastic imaginary world from the mind of Game of Thrones writer George R. R. Martin and the grounded real-world of Ron Marz's Shadow story, Rodriguez does a solid job switching genres (slightly) while maintaining a realistic (though thankfully NOT photo referenced) style that is clean and colorful. Even Shadow Over Innsmouth, set in a Lovecraftian seaside community, has a lively feel to it as presented by Rodriguez. I'm on board for at least the first arc of Worm, so I look forward to seeing more of what this artist has to offer.
• Not surprisingly, the prolific Marz (he also wrote this week's The Adventures of Superman #15 featuring art by Declan Shavley, making it a likely pickup next week) also wrote this week's Witchblade #177. During his return to the adventures of Sara Pezinni, Marz continues tweaking the character he wrote for many issues prior to Tim Seeley's too-short run. Though at first blush, the bright, anime style of artist Laura Braga may seem odd for what has traditionally been a "dark" book, I quite enjoy her work on this title so far. Braga's style makes new some ideas that have honestly been visited previously (Sara loses the Witchblade--again, Sara is given a new partner who dies with a likely resurrection very likely next issue, again) new and fresh.

Not a disappointing book in the bunch this week... and I haven't even mentioned the continued awesomeness of Marvel's All-New Ghost Rider written by Felipe Smith with art by Tradd Moore. As long as this creative team stays with this title they'll get my cash--it's that good and the first title I read when it comes out. This week's issue concludes the series' opening arc and moves the new character closer to being part of the Marvel mainstream. (The villainous Mr. Hyde, who has previously battled the traditional Ghost Rider character, notes that protagonist Robbie Reyes is "not the Ghost Rider" because he "smells different.") I am a little afraid to become to attached to this title as it seems like one that will be cancelled should it not prove profitable quickly. This is a great title for new comers to comic books.

It's week's like that remind me that we as collectors are in the midst of a genre renaissance--it's a great time to be a fanboy!

Seen It: Young Detective Dee: The Rise of the Sea Dragon (2013)

Releasing expensive (and potentially lucrative) prequels/sequels to successful movies is a money-making creative decision common not just too Hollywood, but in other film-making markets internationally. Regardless of the country of origin, prequels/sequels often fall into certain pitfalls such as thinking bigger (more villains, larger threats, higher stakes) is better without concern for narrative quality.

Tsui Hark's 2010 Chinese-Hong Kong action hit Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Secret Flame, (a movie I reviewed previously) spawned a prequel, and unlike lesser movie fare, it proves a worthy follow-up. Returning to Young Detective Dee: The Rise of the Sea Dragon (2013) is the creative force behind the original, director/producer Tsui Hark, while Andy Lau is replaced as Detective Dee by Taiwanese-Canadian actor Mark Chao. Not surprisingly, the contrast between each film's lead actor reflects some key general differences: whereas Lau's Dee was grizzled and driven my a sense of dark foreboding, Chao's younger protagonist is quirky, confident and surprisingly romantic.

With a narrative rooted in Chinese history, providing a quick summary is difficult, and once again Barnes and Noble does so more succinctly than I ever could: "The bustling capital city of Luoyang has come under attack from a powerful force from the depths of the ocean, threatening the entire Celestial Empire. Dispatched by Minister Yan to investigate for the Da Lisi, Detective Dee (Mark Chao) quickly learns that two dragons have appeared in the capital. Meanwhile, the newly crowned Empress Wu (Carina Lau, reprising her role from Mystery of the Secret Flame) has ordered Detective Luchi to investigate as well. Later, the sea monster attacks a ceremonial procession, spreading a wave of chaos throughout the city. When Dee uncovers evidence of a conspiracy implicating the most prominent members of the Imperial Family, he is imprisoned for treason. Now Dee's only hope for exposing the truth behind the bizarre events unfolding in Luoyang is to investigate the radiant courtesan Yin (Angelababy), but in order to do that he'll first need to escape prison with a little help from Shatuo Zhong (Lin Gengxin). Once Dee is free, the race is on to save the city, and expose the treachery that threatens to topple the empire."

Actor Lin Gengxin (pictured right) plays the Robin to Mark Chao's Batman (left).

Beyond the expected wire-fu combat (once again choreographed by the legendary Sammo Hung),  Tsui conceptualizes Dee's powers of deduction (bordering on psychic abilities in the earlier movie) in a variety of ways that give our protagonist the appearance of being superhuman. Early on the film, Dee's ability to read lips is shown visually in a manner reminiscent of Spider-man's spider sense in Sam Riami's original trilogy. Quite a bit of the way objects and scenes interact with the camera (and therefore audience) also seem to suggest a movie that had been intended for release in 3D: ships splinter into the audience's face, weapons come toward the screen, and the camera pans through open porticoes. The special effects have a more obvious CGI appearance than the previous film, but this is liekly due to its use rather than its execution. In (old) Detective Dee, most of the special effects were used to depict backgrounds and architecture; in Young Detective Dee, the narrative requires more interaction by the actors with various CGI elements such as ships on the ocean under attack or giant monsters.

The performances are strong and Chao plays Dee as smart and quirky, but with a naivete playing the younger version allows; Chao's Dee always has something brewing. His relationship with impromptu sidekick Shatuo Zhong (Lin Gengxin) is presented as a respectful, collaborative one rather than for laughs, a refreshing dynamic given some action filmmakers' crutch of using minor characters for comic relief. Many of the nuanced actions and interactions between Dee and Zhong seem to reflect or suggest things that result in the older Dee character from the first film. My sense is that some of the characterization groundwork laid in Rise of the Sea Dragon will come into clearer view after a re-watch of The Secret Flame.

Young Detective Dee: Rise of the Sea Dragon is an effective and entertaining historical action film with strong performances and suitably cartoony effects that do not detract form the overall viewing experience. It is best viewed with the original, to which it is a prequel. Both are available for instant online viewing via Netflix.

Seen It: Cannibal Holocaust (1980)

A fan of both spaghetti westerns and horror it was probably only a matter of time before the unrated Cannibal Holocaust found its way into by DVD player. Unfortunately, as Cher once hoped, I, too, wish I could turn back time. After having my nineteen year old son beg out of a viewing this with his [juvenile] old man after seeing the trailer ("I don't think this is my thing, Dad.") his apprehension proved to be justified. Watching what I knew was intended to be shocking, I had a variety of feelings, most of which ultimately led to regret.

Directed by Ruggero Deodato, from a screenplay by Gianfranco Clerici, Cannibal Holocaust  features a collection of incredibly unlikable protagonists played by actors who were rightly never heard from again. While unfortunate for the careers of the actors involved, their anonymity thereafter actually contributes to the movie's faux-reality set-up: they (or the characters they play) are, after-all, presumed "dead."

The most appropriate movie poster
I could find online.

As summarized by Wikipedia, Cannibal Holocaust "tells the story of a missing documentary film crew who had gone to the Amazon to film cannibal tribes. A rescue mission, led by the New York University anthropologist Harold Monroe, recovers the film crew's lost cans of film, which an American television station wishes to broadcast." What Monroe views on those recovered reels prompts him to question not just the perceived heroic nature of the film crew, but also the scruples of the broadcast company which seeks to profit from the footage.

The gore so prominently featured in most of the advertising associated with the movie serves to cement the antagonistic and base qualities of those same characters who are initially presented to we, the viewer, as it's "heroes." The fate of the documentary crew is clear from the onset (and the DVD cover art): they will be eaten by cannibals and it will be graphic. What is not clear until the end is that [SPOILER] their grisly fate is more of a comeuppance for their base and degrading behavior toward the environment and peoples they come across while tramping through the "Green Inferno" [END SPOILER] than the result of random fate.  In the pervasive not-too-subtle irony on display here, they fall victim to the same natives who's death and loss they hope will bring them the fame they intend their footage to gain them.

Some other points of interest include:

• The inclusion of real animal cruelty. Real live animals from the jungle are slaughtered on film in a manner that can be a little disconcerting. That is not an animatronic turtle being dismembered and eaten by the would be documentarians. The charge of animal cruelty was just one of the reasons Cannibal Holocaust  has had a long (proud?) history of being banned. On the DVD I watched there was a "Cruelty-Free" version of the film for viewing in addition to the original edit.
• Never have the Eighties (the movie was originally released in 1980) had such a late-Sixties/ early-Seventies vibe to it. The hairstyles, attitudes, visual hues and music on display have an anachronistic quality. This does however add to the time-capsule tone of the movie. The most memorable line in the movie is when the lone female--in the midst of chaos and mayhem--breaks the fourth wall to her cameraman and suggests "You know if this were New York, I'd probably be shopping right now!" Odd? Yes, but the line's possible comedic delivery loses all humor when taken in the context of the worst part of the movie.
• With a title like Cannibal Holocaust one would reasonably expect the gore and violence to be rough. Surprisingly, though, by far the most offensive part of the movie is not the phony, staged cannibal-feasting scenes or even the real examples of animal cruelty, but rather the truly ugly treatment of women. While I am certain some college student can (and I'd bet dollars-to-donuts many have) write a dissertation on the symbolic nature of the treatment (the most chilling and degrading acts against women all stem from the behavior of the three idiotic Anglo male filmmakers) it plays as unnecessary. While I can stomach stupid, fake horror, the acts perpetrated against the female characters in Cannibal Holocaust are in shockingly bad-taste, even for a grindhouse flick. 

So is Cannibal Holocaust worth seeking out? As an entertainment it falls very flat. As a time-capsule consideration of late-Seventies shock film--or even as an exercise in how Italians viewed American culture--there is some small value to be had, most of which would be better left to hipsters and college students. The likelihood of my ever watching this again (a personal indicator of a movie's appeal for me) is nil, and I am both pleased and grateful that my son had the good sense to walk away from the Cannibal Holocaust experience when given the opportunity.

Seen It: Godzilla vs. Biollante (1989)

I would have loved to have been at yesterday's SXSW presentation of Gareth Edwards soon-to-be-released Godzilla flick. The Big G and I go way back and this May's film may go a long way to bringing him to even greater prominence (or at least an appreciation of his past greatness). It can do no worse, in most fans' eyes, than 1998 Rolan Emmerich effort. After reading about the presentation on a few fanboy sites, I decided to spend a small part of my day re-viewing 1989's Toho effort, Godzilla vs. Biollante (1989).

The seventeenth(!) installment in the Godzilla series, the film is a sequel to The Return of Godzilla from 5 years earlier (one of the series' many reboots that also fit into a larger chronology) and featured a new "monster" called Biollante. I vaguely recall the movie being released in the early Nineties and, at the time a fallen-away-fan, thought the premise of a "killer flower" sort of silly and a bit unworthy of Godzilla's attentions.

Now a decade later, and a little less jaded as evidence by being more willing to accept entertainment-for-entertainment's sake, the error of my ways is clear. Godzilla vs. Biollante is a very solid Toho kaiju flick which does not (like most good Toho flicks) require you to have seen the previous film, though there are plot points for those interested in the scope and sequence of Godzilla's adventures. Much like one of my personal childhood fave "villains," Hedorah (the Smog Monster), Biollante has some fairly noble intentions, especially given the circumstances of her creation, and goes through a series of developmental stages prior to the fighting-form metamorphosis in anticipation of the big finale (**SPOILER: Unlike Hedorah, Biollante actually has a final metamorphoses following her battle with Godzilla thus resolving the conflict END SPOILER**.) These small similarities, as well as the characterization of the King of All Monsters, help to elevate this film beyond that of a pleasurable reminiscent of one of my favorite childhood Godzilla movies.

The human characters and actors in Godzilla movies are often dismissed as being lesser talents by the uninitiated, but the human stars of Godzilla vs. Biollante put in good performances, most notably future series regular Megumi Odaka, while filling the narrative spaces between monster attacks. This movie also introduces and updates (or solidifies if these may have in fact appeared in earlier films I missed) some new Godzilla tropes. What had in my youth been random child characters who just happened to hit it off with Godzilla are now intuitive phenoms under the tutelage of the psychic teacher Miki Saegusa (Odaka). The Japanese tech used by the Japan Self-Defense Forces (JSF) also receives an upgrade from the previous film introducing the Super X II, a forerunner to what will ultimately be, I assume,  the United Nation's designed Moguera bot of later films.

One doesn't watch Godzilla movies for Shakespearean drama or comedy, though smarter fans than I may be able to make the case for that being part of the plan, but rather the be entertained. I continue being entertained by Godzilla vs. Biollante (1989), a feeling that has not been diminished greatly despite repeat viewings.

Koji Takahashi (left) as Dr. Genichiro Shiragami and
Megumi Odaka as Miki Saegusa (right).

Fun Fact: This Godzilla story was the result of Toho Studios' request for fan solicitations of potential story ideas. The contest was won by Shinichiro Kobayashi, a dentist and occasional science fiction writer!

Sources:
Godzilla vs. Biollante Wikipedia Page

Seen It: Lair of the White Worm (1988)

With the continuing nostalgia for most-things Eighties, one can only hope that some of the more unusual cult films of that era will be rediscovered in this New Year. A director certainly ready for rediscovery is British filmmaker Ken Russell (The Who's Tommy, Altered States, and many others). While well-known by film aficionados, I suspect that there are a number of college students who would appreciate his eccentric, sexually charged storytelling--college is where I first came across his literary-based films. While studying British Luterature I came across Gothic (1986) about the night that prompted Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and, later, The Lair of the White Worm (1988).

The Lair of the White Worm is a 1988 British horror film based (very) loosely on the Bram Stoker (Dracula) novel of the same name; a novel which itself draws upon the English legend of the Lambton Worm. Written and directed by Russell, Lair stars then-TV starlets Amanda Donohoe (L.A. Law) and Catherine Oxenberg (Dynasty), as well as a very young Hugh Grant (About A Boy, Bridget Jones Diary). Of more modern interest might be the co-starring turn by a young Scot named Peter Capaldi, who was just recently been selected to play BBC TV icon Dr. Who.

I hadn't watched Lair in its entirety in almost 20 years, so was excited to come across it on Netflix a few nights ago. I am even more pleased to share that it has aged fairly well. Being an update (of sorts) of an even older story probably helped, as did Russell's tongue in-cheek approach to what he considered his "horror film." For many reasons, his experimental horror film was ahead of its time (and ours). Russell's clearly anti-Christian bent would be hard pressed in our more conservative culture (regardless of what talking heads say about "left wing media") to secure financial backing in our more modern cinema. Russell always was one to push the boundaries of acceptable content (Whore, anyone?) and the use of psychedelic visuals (the background on the poster to the right does appear n the film) and depictions of crazed pagan nude dancing and simulated sex would be late-night SyFy horror in lesser-skilled hands.

Peter Capaldi, the new Doctor Who, as Scottish archaeology student Angus Flint.

The performances by all are splendid, from the headlining stars to the now-familiar British character actors who turn up in a variety of small roles. It struck me is how under-appreciated Hugh Grant is, and I was wondering why he isn't used more frequently in films. Here is at his easy-going best, nimbly expressing a calm and cool demeanor as the foppish Lord James D'Ampton who is destined to fight the evil, serpentine Lady Sylvia Marsh (Amanda Donohoe). Grant makes acting look easy, emitting a devil-may-care vibe thoughout. It is Lord D'Ampton who gets to the crux of the problem when he surmises that, while brainstorming with Angus Flint Capaldi), "...a conflict between Christianity and some early pagan cult... possibly involving even human sacrifice" is afoot. As Grant's adversary, Donohoe is a charismatic snake-pire in blue body paint and fangs, capable of delivering hallucinogenic venom. It is Donohoe's topless performance as Lady Marsh, as well as some rather tame (by today's standards) "gore," that likely was responsible for Lair's R-rating.

Lady Marsh (Amanda Donohoe) get's freaky during a hallucination.

The Lair of the White Worm (1988) [Rated R] is a highly recommended horror film, that while short on straight up scares, does aim for a sort-of realistic approach to fantastical concepts. Creative direction and fun performances make this a worthwhile Netflix viewing experience suitable for ages 17 and up.