The Screengrab : tobe hooper

The Slasher Movie Comes of Age

Phil Nugent — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 17:00:00 GMT

In The Atlantic, James Parker sings the praises of "that most misunderstood of genres," the slasher flick. Actually, Parker doesn't really make a case for the genre being misunderstood so much as boldly step up to declare that he watches them voluntarily, and he can quote Ted Hughes (“Its mishmash of scripture and physics, / With here, brains in hands, for example, / And there, legs in a treetop.” ) and Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf, which, though a fine rendering of a classic work, does not include an appearance by a naked Angelina Jolie in flesh high heels. "The classic slasher flick," he writes, "is produced at high speed, on a squeaker of a budget, and bows briefly for an anointing of critical scorn before going on to make piles of money. With a bit of luck, that critical scorn will be amplified into cultural censure—1980’s rape-revenge slasher, I Spit on Your Grave, for instance, was widely and windily reviled, to the enduring profit of its makers. 'The more the film was attacked,' writer-director Meir Zarchi confided to Variety last year, 'the more money shot into my pocket.'” He must have done pretty damn well. I'm not sure that I've ever actually seen I Spit on Your Grave, but I remember, as if it were yesterday, the 1981 "special" episode of Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel's old syndicated movie-reviews TV show Sneal Previews that was set aside for the purpose of heaping scorn and disgust on what were then just beginning to be called slasher (or "splatter") films, with I Spit on Your Grave a prime target. Watching a clip from the movie, in which a bunch of scuzzball louts swaggered around the fallen body of a violated young woman, sandwiched between the TV showmen clucking and posturing about the death of civilization, one felt much as one does at a screening of Freddy vs. Jason: it's not clear who you should root for, but you'd settle for checking off the box marked "None of the Above."

Part of the appeal of slasher movies is that they're disreputable. But the fact that a writer like Parker can admit to having taken pleasure from watching slasher movies in a magazine like The Atlantic shows how far we've come since...well, since 1976, when Harper's, a magazine pretty much on the same social outreach level as The Atlantic, ran Stephen Koch's "Fashions in Pornography", which gave the author a chance to step out onto the heath and rend his garments in appalled despair over the fact that Tobe Hooper's The Texas Chain Saw Massacre had been screened at the Museum of Modern Art. (With the title of his screed, Koch clearly anticipated the current term "torture porn", which New York magazine reviewer David Edelstein is so proud of having coined.) In movie circles, Koch is best known as the author of Stargazer, a classic, admiring survey of Andy Warhol's films, and his dismay at seeing some trashy little drive-in slaughter-fest being garlanded by a prestigious New York City culture institution may partly reflect one man's concern that his fringe cinema of choice be recognized as deserving of a place in the canon before some white trash gorehound's fringe cinema of choice. My grandmother was a good Christian Southern lady, and if a bus containing either Andy Warhol or Tobe Hooper had broken down in front of her house, she would have invited both of them in and gorged them on homemade pie, but she wouldn't have watched the movies made by either gentlemen if she'd been able to borrow someone else's eyeballs.

"Politicians, ugly buildings, and whores all become respectable if they last long enough," spoke Noah Cross (John Huston) in Chinatown, a movie whose nose-slitting sequence speaks to a part of the audience that has no insurmountable problem with being titillated with a little gratuitous shock and bloodshed, so long as there's a story and big stars to go with it. Back in 1981, maybe nobody seriously expected slasher movies to last this long. But they did, and now they're at least half respectable, partly because those of us who, back then, were just old enough to watch clips from them on Sneak Previews but who couldn't see the movies themselves until they hit cable or Mom and Dad left us alone with the VCR, are now adults who, because this stuff was always there, can imagine stuff that's even worse. Some of these adults are now filmmakers whose job it is to imagine stuff that's even worse. As Parker sees it, "Saw and Hostel succeeded, above all, because they are serious slasher flicks. The extremity of their goriness reclaimed the splatter death from mainstream movies (where it’s become unremarkable to see a man fed screaming to a propeller, or run through with a drill bit). And the immersive nastiness of their aesthetic—decayed bathrooms, foul workshops, seeping industrial spaces, blades blotched with rust—distilled the slasher-flick elixir: atmosphere. No franchise thrives without it."

Parker continues: "Just as crucially, Saw and Hostel feature excellent and novel villains." Saw's Jigsaw is, or if I interpreted the art work on the last installment correctly as I whizzed past it on the subway umpteen times, was, a terminal cancer patient whose Rube Goldberg torture devices are intended to impress upon his victims the importance of appreciating life, an area in which he judges them to have been falling short. And the wealthy businessmen who, in the Hostel series, pay top dollar to torture healthy young American backpackers to death can be taken as some kind of comment on the rapaciousness of the class that brought us the new Depression. Earlier generations of genre filmmakers were a little confused when informed that they were in the social commentary business, but Hostel director Eli Roth talks about it as if he thought he might be eligible for a Pulitzer: "“Thanks to George Bush and Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld," the insists, "there’s a whole new wave of horror movies.”

What's kind of off-putting is how much of the new wave has hit the beach before, with fewer Roman numerals attached. So far this year we've seen remakes of Friday the 13th, My Bloody Valentine, and Wes Craven's Last House on the Left, a movie so proudly vile that the fact that it could provide fodder for a pricey Hollywood remake--let alone the fact that its director could have gone on to work with Meryl Streep--just about single-handedly carried us all into an alternate universe. Later this year there'll be a sequel to Rob Zombie's remake of John Carpenter's original Halloween. This deluge of remakes may be part of what's now respectable about slasher movies: unless you're the Marquis de Sade, it's hard to come up with a really new take on having a madman run around turning people into kindling, and if your movie is going to look a lot like a lot of other movies, why not latch onto the name of a golden oldie and "honor" it with an official remake rather than imitate it and get tagged as a rip-off artist? If Parker, as a fan of the genre, is concerned that it may finally be killed off by losing its capacity to shock, either from endless repetition or misplaced self-seriousness, he isn't letting on: "In a tolerant spirit," he writes, "the slasher fan gets in line for the new sequel or prequel or remake or 'reboot.' If it’s crap, so what? The next one might be better."

SXSW Explosion!

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 19:30:00 GMT

What, more preview? Well, the Film Issue of the Austin Chronicle is now out, and it’s chock full of goodies, whether you’re planning to be here for the fun or you just want to experience it vicariously from your igloo. Highlights include:

- A roundtable discussion with three documentary filmmakers now living in Austin: Bradley Beesley (Sweethearts of the Prison Rodeo), Ben Steinbauer (Winnebago Man) and Alex Karpovsky (Trust Us, This is All Made Up).

- A preview of Tobe Hooper’s long-lost first film. “Eggshells makes explicit what many have long assumed – that Hooper's sense of cinema is the defining characteristic that makes Chainsaw great. Eggshells is a true 1968 film, psychedelic and political; it seems clear that Hooper had watched more than a film or two by Jean-Luc Godard. The film celebrates alternative lifestyles and politics and people and an odd, kinky semimysticism that is grounded more in humor than the supernatural. It captures what Austin looked like in the Sixties as well as the political sensibility shared by so many at the time.”

- An interview with Beeswax director Andrew Bujalski. “I needed a wheelchair-accessible vintage-clothing store. My whole script depended on that ... and they're really hard to come by. Vintage stores are usually very cramped places, and that's part of their charm, but I started to panic a little bit, because I thought I had written something that doesn't exist. ...So I spent a week driving around Austin. I went to every vintage store you could find. And the last place I walked in the door was Storyville on 51st and Duval, and it was eerily right on. It was so much how I had written it, down to there being this sort of back room behind the counter, which is what I had written. And the counters were low, so it also made sense that someone in a wheelchair would be back there. ... So that more than anything seemed like a sign from God that we should be here.”

- A look at the new wave of Australian films well-represented at this year’s festival. Could this be Ozsploitation: The Sequel? “Australia has given us tales of crazy villages in the outback (Welcome to Woop Woop), cross-dressers on the rampage (The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert), and, of course, hard men with big hearts (Crocodile Dundee), but this year at South by Southwest, Australia's Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade wants us to know it's not all about kangaroos and costumes anymore. The filmmakers of seven Down Under films, which range from slashers to piss-your-pants drollery, will attend SXSW 09, the result of a government grant for the Australia International Cultural Council through film body Screen Australia.”

- A visit to the editing room of Tim McCanlies (Secondhand Lions), as he works around the clock to finish The 2 Bobs in time for its SXSW screening. “For two days, McCanlies and Reisch have been going through the film with a fine-tooth comb and a digital equalizer, raising and lowering volumes so that vital bits of plot information come through and less vital bits recede into the background, and cutting frequencies in the tone of certain actors' voices so they don't sound like they're speaking from inside a well. They watch and rewatch shots over and over again until the untrained ear becomes completely numb to the experience.”

SXSW Preview: Ten Must-See Narrative Features (Part One)

Scott Von Doviak — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 19:00:00 GMT

Our 2009 SXSW Film Festival preview continues with a look at the most promising narrative features on the slate. (You can check out my documentary picks here and here.) I’ve left out the big ticket items that are due in theaters soon, like Adventureland and I Love You, Man. They don’t need my help.

BEESWAX

Mumblecore maven Andrew Bujalski (Funny Ha Ha) returns with this legal thriller “for anyone who finds 'legal thriller' to be an oxymoron.” Real life twins Tilly and Maggie Hatcher star as identical twins Jeanne, who is paraplegic, and Lauren, who isn’t. The pair find themselves dealing with a vague threat from Jeanne’s partner in a vintage clothing business, Amanda. New SXSW producer Janet Pierson has a supporting role, which is certainly an ingenious tactic by Bujalski.

(Screens March 14th at 2 pm, Paramount Theater)

THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION OF LITTLE DIZZLE

Strange. Odd. Twisted. These are words that crop up frequently in reviews of Little Dizzle, which debuted earlier this year at Sundance. A cleaning crew of misfits, hallucinatory cookies and a strange new toilet-based life form are the ingredients that could only add up to a fun time at the movies. Presumably.

(Screens March 15th at 9:15 pm, March 19th at 4 pm, Alamo Ritz, March 21st at 11 am, Alamo South)

EGGSHELLS

This 1969 “American Freak Illumination Time & Space Fantasy of the exploding Austin inevitable” was the first feature directed by Tobe Hooper and has long been considered a lost film. But it’s lost no more! A print has been found, and Hooper’s hippie poltergeist movie will finally see the light of day. Or the dark of theater, I guess.

(Screens March 17 at 7 pm, Alamo South)

LESBIAN VAMPIRE KILLERS

Once you’ve come up with the title Lesbian Vampire Killers, do you even have to bother writing a script? Won’t the financiers immediately start lining up at your door? Actually, the title is slightly confusing: are the lesbians killing vampires or are the vampires also lesbians who are being killed by someone else? Judging from the trailer it’s the latter, but hey, either way works for me.

(Screens March 16th at 11:59 pm, March 18th at 11:30 pm, Alamo South)

MAKE-OUT WITH VIOLENCE

The Deagol Brothers would have you know that, although it involves an animated corpse, Make-Out with Violence is not a zombie movie. Rather, it’s “a dreamlike coming-of-age tragicomedy.” And a “rock musical wherein the living love the dead and break into silence instead of song.”

(Screens March 14th at 8 pm, Alamo Ritz, March 17th at 9 pm, March 21st at 9:30 pm, Alamo South)

The Letdowns: Lifeforce (1985)

Nick Schager — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 16:00:00 GMT

In this recurring column, we revisit (and reconsider) eagerly anticipated films that didn’t seem to fulfill their pre-release promise.

Though dogged by rumors that executive producer Steven Spielberg spearheaded its production, 1982’s Poltergeist was nonetheless The Texas Chainsaw Massacre director Tobe Hooper’s first mainstream, major-studio success. His 1985 follow-up Lifeforce, however, demolished most of the professional momentum generated by his prior effort, and a simple recap of its plot suggests why. Investigating Haley’s Comet, a joint American-British space shuttle crew discovers an extraterrestrial ship full of desiccated bat-man creatures and three nude humanoids trapped in giant crystals, whom the astronauts bring aboard their own craft. Some time later, another space expedition recovers these three unclothed figures, including a gorgeous female (Mathilda May), and transports them to Earth, where they turn out to be space vampires who can possess bodies and are intent on draining – and then beaming to the umbrella-shaped ship they’ve positioned just above London – as many human souls as they can harvest. As May’s sexy E.T. sucks people dry and telepathically communicates with the astronaut (Steve Railsback) who first discovered her, Londoners sapped of their lifeforces become zombies, terrorizing the city and putting mankind’s continued survival in peril.

The term “batshit insane,” it seems, was created with this specific film in mind. And yet I’d argue that’s a positive, since how many unironic psychosexual space vampire-zombie apocalypse films do you get in one lifetime – and helmed by Tobe Hooper in his (relative) prime, no less? Adapted from Colin Wilson’s novel Space Vampires by Don Jakoby and Alien scribe Dan O’Bannon, Lifeforce has an off-the-deep-end mentality that was bound to alienate, its plot going from silly to ludicrous to mental ward-bonkers without even an accompanying hint of wink-wink self-consciousness. Hooper plays his bizarro material straight, which in this case involves repeatedly employing a dreamy, hallucinatory aesthetic marked by twisting, gliding, seemingly weightless camerawork, extreme soft-focus lighting, and heightened shot-reverse shot angles for his protagonists’ telepathic conversations. Juxtaposed rotating close-ups of May and Railsback during their maiden encounter not only beautifully evoke how Railsback’s world is about to be turned figuratively upside-down, but elegantly establishes the two characters’ forthcoming mental-physical union, one of many instances where Hooper’s evocative direction elevates his often loony-tunes sci-fi saga.

Hooper’s potent widescreen cinematography and Henry Mancini’s robust score help foster a surrealistic atmosphere for a story simultaneously intoxicated and frightened by femininity. The embodiment of male sexual fantasies and anxieties, May’s Playboy-ready, perpetually nude succubus gives the action a perversely electric energy, while the performances of Railsback, Peter Firth (as a military colonel) and Frank Finlay (as a government scientist who studies “death”) afford just enough campiness to keep the proceedings light. Originally trimmed of 15 minutes by TriStar Pictures, Lifeforce’s restored 116-minute DVD cut boasts few glaring plot holes but a number of memorable horror images – blue lightening flashing around the gaping mouths of a reanimated, dried-out corpse and his victim; May’s alien materializing from the blood spewing out of a deceased Patrick Stewart’s mouth; an ominously carnal dream sequence; and a final, naked make-out session between May and Railsback in a column of blue light comprised of human souls. Frequently outlandish and far from profound, it’s nonetheless a box-office bomb that, like its horror-maestro director, deserved quite a bit better.

Screengrab Presents: The 25 Greatest Horror Films of All Time (Part Two)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 30 Oct 2008 20:30:00 GMT

20. RE-ANIMATOR (1985)

This 1985 instant-midnight-movie classic just about killed off the concept of the underground-horror-cult-item by being too perfect; a beautifully executed, straight-faced H.P. Lovecraft update with farce timing and gory slapstick, it hit its marks with such stunning aplomb that it's hard to think of a similar film that wouldn't be embarrassed to be compared to it. That includes pretty much every subsequent attempt by the first time filmmaker Stuart Gordon, previously known as founding director of Chicago's Organic Theater Company, to follow it up, though its star, Jeffrey Combs, has managed to keep the spirit of Herbert West alive through his performances in other movies -- especially Peter Jackson's The Frighteners, where his deranged, ghostbusting FBI agent is a scene-stealing fusion of Dr. West, Fox Mulder, and Hazel Motes.

19. EYES WITHOUT A FACE (1959)

Georges Franju's nightmare classic was first released in the U.S. in 1962 in a re-edited, English-language version called The Horror Chamber of Dr. Faustus. In a time when foreign films really had to fight for American distribution, this was a peculiar kind of triumph that demonstrated that it was possible for certain special films to bridge the audiences that responded to the critical theories of Andre Bazin and those who were more at home with Joe Bob Briggs. The restored version that has since become the standard text even here makes it clearer that the movie (about a mad doctor's attempts to restore the once-beautiful, then damaged and now slate-blank face of his daughter) is an attack on unthinking scientific experimentation that draws on the deliberate tapping-into-the-irrational of the Surrealists and such films as Cocteau's Orpheus -- but it's still a movie about a guy whose hobby is stripping the kissers off kidnapped women until he gets eaten by his own attack dogs.

18. MARTIN (1977)

After many failed attempts to successfully follow up on Night of the Living Dead, and two years before returning to the zombie well with Dawn of the Dead, George Romero made this riff on the vampire genre in his beloved Pittsburgh. The title character, played by twenty-six-year-old John Amplas, is a forlorn, alienated young man who appears to be a serial killer and wishes he were a vampire. In its own odd way, Martin, more than any other film of its time, anticipates the Goth subculture of Anne Rice and the post-punk concept of vampires as creatures of morbid romantic fantasy, though it's an ironic comment on that kind of attraction, not a celebration of it: at key moments, Romero shows us Martin's fantasies of himself as a suave, literal lady killer with seductive powers, before staging his murders as the unpleasant messes they actually are. Romero himself turns up in a cameo as a priest who, sought for guidance by an Old World relative of Martin's, turns out to be less interested in hearing the man out than in raving about The Exorcist.

17. ROSEMARY’S BABY (1968)

If Charles Grodin doesn’t exactly spring to mind when you think of the great stars of horror, then you’ve never seen Rosemary’s Baby. Kicking off the 1970s devil movie craze two years before the start of that morally ambiguous decade (and one year before director Roman Polanski’s wife Sharon Tate was murdered by the minions of real life demon Charles Manson), Mia Farrow dramatized the worst-case-scenario fears of young mothers everywhere as the title character in a defiantly downbeat movie where motherhood is perverted, the fetus is the villain, the bad guys win and we get to see Ruth Gordon naked for the first (but, thanks to Bud Cort and Hal Ashby, certainly not the last) time in her distinguished career.

16. THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE (1974)

These days Leatherface is just another lovable lunk in the horror franchise Hall of Fame, right up there with Jason and Freddy Krueger, but despite all the sequels and remakes, the impact of his 1974 debut is undiminished. There's nothing complicated about the plot: five young people traveling across Texas in a van happen upon a seemingly deserted farmhouse where they make the sudden and violent acquaintance of the hulking butcher and cross-dresser Leatherface and the rest of the demented Sawyer clan. Tobe Hooper's film derives much of its power from its grimy, snuff-film authenticity; it looks as though it may have been discovered moldering in the attic of the decaying Sawyer farmhouse. When Leatherface revs his chainsaw while closing in on a victim in the deep, dark woods, you can only think, yep, that would certainly scare the living shit out of me. Leatherface's final dance of death in the early morning rays of the sun is perhaps the seminal image of hillbilly horror. Much has been made of the movie as metaphor for any number of things – Vietnam, Watergate, feminism, the collapse of the counterculture, the dissolution of the nuclear family and possibly the 1973 World Series for all I know – but as flat-out unrelenting exploitation of the modern suburbanite's fear of backwoods people, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre has few peers.

Click Here For Part One, Three, Four, Five, Six & Seven

Contributors: Phil BOOOOO!-gent, Andrew OsBurning-in-Hell, Baron Scott Von Frankendoviak

The Screengrab 24-Hour Stephen King Marathon (Part One)

Scott Von Doviak — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 20:00:00 GMT

Introduction

Midnight – 2 a.m. FIRESTARTER (1984)

Here’s an inauspicious beginning to our little festival. We can start with the resume of director Mark L. Lester, a career on the fringes highlighted by Truck Stop Women, Roller Boogie and Class of 1984. Then there’s the second-rate source material, seemingly inspired by the question, “What if Carrie got her powers before her first period and had a more supportive parent?” Put them together and you have a shoddy little supernatural thriller starring a puffy little Drew Barrymore as Charlie, the girl who sets fires with her mind. Charlie was born with this ability after her parents Andy (David Keith) and Vicky (Heather Locklear) took part in a medical experiment conducted by the shadowy government agency The Shop. This same agency, headed up by Martin Sheen with an impressively poofy head of hair, is now pursuing Andy (who has that kind of ESP that makes your nose bleed) and Charlie, who they believe will develop the capability of burning down the entire planet. To that end, Sheen brings in John Rainbird, a maniacal child-killer with an eyepatch and a ponytail. Would you cast George C. Scott in this role? Mark Lester did. Terrible performances abound – I’m gonna go ahead and guess that Barrymore started drinking on this set – but at least there’s always a chance that the actors will burst into flames. The horrendous score by Tangerine Dream carbon dates the movie to the exact second of its release. The ending is stolen outright from Three Days of the Condor, but at least in the book, King had the good sense to admit that’s what he had in mind.

2 a.m. – 4 a.m. THE MANGLER (1995)

Before he was the world’s best-selling author, King worked in an industrial laundromat and supplemented his income by selling short stories to skin magazines. The Mangler is based on one such story, which concerns an industrial laundry machine that becomes possessed by a demon and starts killing people. And you wonder where he gets his ideas. To the best of my recollection, the short story (found in the Night Shift collection) runs only a few pages. It’s been a long time since I read it, so I’m not sure exactly what director Tobe Hooper and his screenwriters added to stretch it out to feature length. It couldn’t have been much, though. Hooper gives us an impressively Dickensian laundry, all hissing steam and dark grinding gears and sweaty, filthy, bosomy workers. Robert “Freddy Krueger” Englund seems to think he’s Dickensian in his layers of old age makeup and clanky mechanical legs, but my guess is his performance was sponsored by Honey Baked Ham. The premise: the gigantic folding machine gets a taste of virgin blood, awakening its inner demon. Said machine begins feeding on the laundresses and then, when it breaks free of its moorings and goes mobile, everyone else. Ted Levine gives an enjoyably unhinged performance as the cop investigating this peculiar turn of events, but there’s nowhere near enough story here to sustain a 106-minute running time.

4 a.m. – 6 a.m. CHRISTINE (1983)

One of King’s recurring themes is Our Machines Will Kill Us. (Perhaps you’ve heard of The Mangler?) Another one is Revenge of the Nerd (as in the abovementioned Carrie). Put them both together and you’ve got Christine, in which nerd meets car, car turns nerd into cool guy, car starts killing cool guy’s enemies. Fresh off his remake of The Thing, John Carpenter directed this solid if undistinguished adaptation of King’s killer car tale. (“Solid if undistinguished” is pretty much Carpenter’s stock in trade; he’s a meat-and-potatoes B-movie guy, and I’m guessing he’d take that as a compliment.) Give him this much: Carpenter was the first to use George Thorogood’s “Bad to the Bone” in a movie – it plays as the red 1958 Plymouth Fury rolls off the assembly line under the opening credits – and Terminator or no Terminator, it’s still the best use of the song ever. Twenty years later, loser Arnie Cunningham (Keith Gordon) spots the Fury rusting in a vacant lot and it’s love at first sight. Before long, Arnie has ditched his nerd glasses and restored the car named Christine to its former glory, and the bullies who once plagued him are meeting untimely ends beneath her wheels. Carpenter makes spooky use of ’50s rock and roll, which effectively acts as the ghost in the machine, and comes up with a few nifty images, notably Christine ablaze and pursuing one of Arnie’s tormenters like a literal Car From Hell. The pre-CGI shots of the car regenerating itself after being vandalized are a hoot, and the grand finale, in which Christine is run over with a bulldozer and crushed into a cube, is cathartic for any disgruntled car owner.

Part Two

Morning Deal Report: A Hobbit, a Gnome and a Poltergeist Walk Into a Bar…

Scott Von Doviak — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 14:00:00 GMT

The Good Idea Fairy is apparently still on vacation, so what the hell, let’s just go ahead and remake Poltergeist! Juliet Snowden and Stiles White, screenwriters of 2005’s Boogeyman and a thankfully stalled remake of The Birds, have signed on to script the remake of the 1982 horror classic. “The original Poltergeist, directed by Tobe Hooper from a script co-written by Steven Spielberg, miraculously skirted an R rating despite its children-in-constant-peril, toy clown-strangling, face-peeling, skeleton-swimming medley of horrors,” the Hollywood Reporter gleefully notes, before going on to mention that the original film “earned further cult status when two of the child actors in the movie died after the film's release. Two nerve-jangling sequels were produced.” Nerve-jangling? I think they mean ass-numbing.

Elsewhere in the land of fantastical critters, Guillermo del Toro’s The Hobbit finally has a screenwriting team aboard, and surprise, surprise, it’s Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens. In case you’ve forgotten, Variety reminds: “Jackson, Walsh and Boyens teamed on penning the three screenplay adaptations of J.R.R. Tolkein’s The Lord of the Rings. The third pic, The Return of the King, won an Oscar for adapted screenplay.” The Hobbit is due in 2011, so don’t get in line just yet.

Yesterday we told you about Julius, the modern urban crime version of Julius Caesar. Today we regret to inform you of Gnomeo and Juliet, the…garden gnome version of Romeo and Juliet? Yes. That’s what it says here. The “loose and edgy” CGI Shakespeare adaptation will feature songs by Elton John. I’ve really got to get to work on that Morning Deal Report drinking game.

Related:
Del Toro on the Hobbit Trail
Nothing But Dark Skys From Now On

Nothing But Dark Skys From Now On

Phil Nugent — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 19:00:00 GMT

"Imagine," Gary Giddins writes, "having only one great film in you, and that film being The Texas Chainsaw Massacre." That Tobe Hooper classic, along with the lesser 1977 Eaten Alive, in which Neville Brand plays a hotel keeper who feeds people to his pet crocodile if he doesn't like what they've written on their comment cards, are now available on handsomely packaged DVDs from Dark Sky, a company that Giddins salutes for doing yeoman's work in the specialized field of retrieving rough gems and striking obscurities from the pop junk pile of half-forgotten and poorly received horror pictures. Dark Sky's catalog includes Trilogy of Terror, the 1974 anthology TV-movie that's legendary for its concluding segment, in which Karen Black, entering the screen-queen pantheon in a tatty bathrobe and a flying cloud of auburn hair, raced around her '70s bacheleorette pad pursued by a spear-wielding Zuni tribal doll with the "Check, please!" name of "He Who Kills." Giddins notes that, as an example of the nifty bonus extras that are a Dark Sky trademark, the Trilogy disc boasts a new interview with Karen Black: "Rolling her eyes in recollection of the filmmaking incompetence, she recalls the spills she had to take while pretending to wrestle the doll and offers her own analysis of the film's cult following: 'Women are afraid of vaginal entry'."

Other Dark Sky discs include Mario Bava's 1966 Kill Baby, Kill, John McNaughton's art-gore shocker Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, Curtis Harrington's The Killing Kind (made in 1973 with a cast that includes Ann Sothern, John Savage, Luana Anders, and Cindy Williams), and the unclassifiable Spider Baby, a 1964 film by cult director Jack Hill that makes The Addams Family look like The Brady Bunch. (It features a young Sid Haig channeling Hank Wordern and the star, Lon Chaney, Jr., singing, for lack of a better word, the opening theme song.) Coming soon from Dark Sky: the 1973 Ricco the Mean Machine, described by Giddins as "a Mafia revenge film in which Christopher Mitchum sets out to destroy a mob with his pageboy flip and a few awkward karate chops." An as yet undiscovered influence on Javier Bardem's haircut in No Country for Old Men? Duty compels me to check it out.

(Belated) Take Five: Stephen King

Peter Smith — Mon, 26 Nov 2007 21:00:00 GMT

So, have you heard of this Stephen King fellow? Apparently he’s pretty widely read. Hs popularity as a novelist is matched only by his profligacy — he’s written over thirty novels and hundreds of short stories on his way to becoming one of the best-selling authors of all time. This level of popularity is like heroin to Hollywood producers, and adaptations of his books and stories — as well as original screenplays by King himself, an inveterate movie nerd — have led to an astonishing 100+ films and television shows. Like their source material, though, they’re a decidedly mixed bag: for every Shawshank Redemption, there’s a Children of the Corn 666: Isaac’s Return. And just as King enjoys a decidedly muddled critical reception, films made from his works, while occasionally made by talented filmmakers who find in the material the bones of something great, tend towards third-rate exploitation horror. Still, with The Mist having opened last week, it’s good to remember that a number of genuinely worthwhile projects have made the translation from the mind of King to the big screen. Here are five of the best.

CARRIE (1976)

The first hint that Stephen King’s novels might be the stuff of memorable movies came in 1976, when Brian DePalma got hold of his tale of a shy, stunted teenage girl who happened to have vast telekinetic powers. As the rest of this list will make clear, it’s no secret that King’s books tended to make good films only in the hands of a competent director, but DePalma in particular blew the doors off of this one, picking out the meaty insides and discarding the extraneous baggage. Ratcheting up the tension of King’s patented adolescent-angst narrative and turning the end into something beyond gore and well into Grand Guignol territory, DePalma also delivers one of the best jump-out-of-your-seat shocks in horror movie history near the end of Carrie.

SALEM'S LOT (1979)

The story of a small town infested by vampires was one of King’s first big successes as a novelist, and this TV movie adaptation — helmed by horror maven and Texas Chainsaw Massacre director Tobe Hooper — does a terrific job conveying its sense of paranoia and night terror without resorting to gore or cheap thrills. Indeed, working within the restrictions of television seemed to suit Hooper and screenwriter Paul Monash, who paced and teased the moments of shock out quite effectively. They’re also aided greatly by a cast crammed full of top-shelf character actors, including Elisha Cook Jr., Fred Willard, James Mason, Ed Flanders and George Dzundza.

THE SHINING (1980)

Not a lot of genuinely great directors have taken on the works of Stephen King, but Stanley Kubrick was unquestionably the greatest. Made only three years after the publication of the novel, The Shining is a work of genuine genius, containing one of Jack Nicholson’s greatest screen performances, some absolutely tremendous camerawork, and a sense of creeping horror that’s absent in many of the plodding, obvious shock films made from King's work. (Amazingly, the best-ever movie adaptation of a Stephen King novel was one of King’s least favorites; he later helped a far-inferior TV movie reworking into existence.)

CREEPSHOW (1982)

In a perfectly wonderful and appropriate twist of fate, one of Stephen King’s best friends is zombie auteur George Romero, and while Creepshow, their only true collaboration (King wrote the screenplay and Romero directed) isn’t the best movie based on the horror writer’s works, it’s easily the most enjoyable. The two sought to recreate the goofy, gory tone of the EC horror comics they had both enjoyed in their youth, and they succeeded to an admirable degree — and if the overall feel of the movie, as well as a hysterically nutty performance by King himself, are any indication, they had a hell of a time doing it.

THE DEAD ZONE (1983)

The story of a man who can see the future, and whether or not he has the chance to alter it, is a pretty whoozy old trope in science fiction, and to be honest, it doesn’t fare all that much better even in the hands of a man who, like Stephen King, can lend a patina of respectability to even the hoariest stock plots. David Cronenberg does what he can with the material he has, but it’s not the script or the direction that makes The Dead Zone worth watching: it’s the lead performances, most especially Christopher Walken (sublimely nutty as usual) in the role of the seer and Martin Sheen (hamming it up like nobody’s business) as a politician he suspects may someday trigger a nuclear war.

— Leonard Pierce

Morning Deal Report: Boogity-Boo!

Peter Smith — Thu, 11 Oct 2007 15:00:00 GMT

Tobe Hooper's adapting Stephen King's novel From a Buick 8, apparently King's second or third work about an evil car. Sounds spooktacular!

Meanwhile, Graham King (no relation) will adapt the novel School for Fear. No wait — it's not a novel, it's a pitch for a novel.

Will Smith will play an entertainment mogul in Michael Mann's next film, Empire.

— Peter Smith