Showing posts with label BRIAN YUZNA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BRIAN YUZNA. Show all posts

Friday, November 4, 2016

Dolls


Dolls (1987)
Dir. Stuart Gordon
Written by Ed Naha
Starring Carrie Lorraine, Guy Rolfe, Stephen Lee, Ian Patrick Williams, Carolyn Purdy

Normally I always choose a theatrical poster if I can, but I think the recent Shout! Factory Blu is the first media of any type to accurately capture the tone of the movie in an image.

This is a movie called DOLLS, and it’s about some people who get stuck in an old gothic manor with a bunch of killer dolls. My God, there’s something heartening about that kind of honesty. I mean, I guess it could be called KILLER DOLLS or something if they really wanted to just put it all out there. But come on bud, DOLLS ain’t in the business of foolin’ nobody. DOLLS is what it is. And it’s exactly what you think it is. Nobody rented this movie thinking it was a prequel to GUYS AND DOLLS, or an academic survey of aboriginal doll types from around the world. If you rented DOLLS, you did so because you wanted to see dolls kills a bunch of B-movie actors. DOLLS will provide that service. DOLLS is a generous lover.


What you might not expect -- particularly when I mention that this is a Charles Band production (DOLLMAN VS DEMONIC TOYS, GINGERDEAD MAN 2: PASSION OF THE CRUST, though at least it was from his years with Empire Pictures, when it was still possible to conceive of “A Charles Band Production” as something that could be nonlethally viewed by human eyes) -- is that DOLLS is actually not merely a vehicle to clumsily dump a few colorful deaths into our laps, like a cat cheerfully depositing a mangled squirrel carcass in your bed. It’s actually pretty good! I mean, it’s obvious a B-movie about killer dolls and it was produced by Charles Band, so there was always a ceiling on how good it was possible for it to be. But I’d say that by and large, it comfortably reaches that ceiling and maintains itself there pretty much the entire runtime. It comes perilously close to being a real movie in many ways. If that’s a backhanded compliment, it’s also a sincere one.

The backbone of DOLLS is that is gets the tone right. Director Stuart Gordon, who absolutely nailed the irresponsible, gleefully misanthropic comedy of RE-ANIMATOR and the slimy, twitchy mania of FROM BEYOND a few years earlier, here sets his sights on something sort of surprising: cultivating the feeling of a dark fairy tale, a kid’s movie set in a reality which is ever-so-slightly magical and timeless. Now, it’s also not a kid’s movie, because they talk about child molestation and punk rock and several people will have their eyeballs graphically removed. But there’s an unmistakable, prodding sense that this is a children’s story; it takes place mostly from a child’s perspective (a child who is inevitably right and consequently seldom believed by any adults) which celebrates the imagination and generosity of childhood and condemns the banality and selfishness of adulthood. And there’s also no mistaking the trappings of a classic fairy tale: a shadowy gothic manor house which seems to exist out of time, a magical old craftsman with a twinkle in his eye, a pair of openly wicked step-parents, a stern sense of brutal moralizing, and a marked reverence for classical images and tropes (particularly the iconic Punch puppet who serves as our primary dispenser of punishment, and the old-fashioned ornate porcelain dolls and hand-painted soldier toys who back him up). This is not by accident. Let's dispel once and for all with this fiction that DOLLS doesn't know what it's doing. It knows exactly what it’s doing. DOLLS wants to be a kid’s movie for grownups, and preferably grownups who grew up a little twisted, probably from a high dose of exactly this sort of story in their youth. And that’s exactly what it succeeds in doing.



I would definitely fit that bill, so I pretty much loved it. Your mileage may vary. But suffice to say, the story concerns likeable tyke Judy (Carrie Lorraine, in the last of her four screen roles, the first being an extra in POLTERGEIST 2), who gets stuck in the rain on a country road with her indifferent father (Ian Patrick Williams, an actor who has had a busy 40-year career spanning from Archie Bunker’s Place to SUPERHERO MOVIE apparently without ever having a single good role) and miserable bitch of a stepmother (Carolyn Purdy, wife of director Gordon, who seems to delight in casting her as irredeemable bitches, but hey, ain’t marriage a funny thing?), forcing them to seek shelter at the always-nearby gothic manor of Gabriel Hardwicke (Guy Rolfe, a career which ranged from KING OF KINGS to PUPPETMASTER) and his wife Hilary (Hilary Mason, the blind psychic from DON’T LOOK NOW). (Side note: I swear, this trope is in so many movies that every time I get stuck in the rain I just instinctively walk in any direction, certain I’ll find a mysterious gothic manor willing to put me up for the night). The Hardwickes are dollmakers, and the kindly old patriarch offers a particularly grotesque Punch doll to the youth as compensation for her beloved bear, tossed into the rainy woods by the cruel stepmother on their way up to the house.

About that bear: when he gets tossed away, the first thing we see is his immediate return as a gigantic, flesh-ripping stuffed monster who zestily bites into the unpleasant woman who has just rejected his presence. It turns out to be a fantasy, of course, but that lets you know right away that you’re A) in good hands and B) in the kind of movie which knows and approves of a child having a fantasy about her stuffed bear brutally butchering her stepmother as a means of violent revenge. That pretty much sets the tone for everything that follows.



Anyway, the stepparents are insufferable monsters, so you know they’ll get theirs. But that’s not enough victims to sustain a whole movie, so suddenly two trashy punk chicks (Bunty Bailey, the gal from Ah-Ha’s Take On Me video, and Cassie Stuart, who was in AMADEUS apparently) show up, with a dorky midwesterner named Ralph (Stephen Lee, ROBOCOP 2, “Registered Voter” in a 2004 episode of The West Wing) in tow. The punk rockers, as was customary in the 80’s, are violent thieves who are bound to be punished for their antisocial musical choices by way of killer dolls. But Ralph, Ralph is something special. Ralph is the biggest, dorkiest, most perfectly midwestern Midwesterner I have ever seen on the silver screen. This is the kind of Real America you seldom get from these smarmy Hollywood types, and as soon as I noticed his Cubs hat in the final scene of the film, I knew for a fact that the only way he could be this perfect is if director Gordon was born and raised in Chicago, which a quick IMDB check confirms, not that I needed any confirmation. His complete uncoolness is Ralph’s salvation, though; it’s his innocence and his inherent nice-guy can’t-catch-a-break schlubbiness that allows him to believe, against all real adult logic, that young Judy might just be onto something as she points out that people seem to be mysteriously disappearing around them. This is the point in the review where traditionally I’d say something like, “might it have something to do with dolls, possibly killer dolls of some variety?” But of course there’s no sense in being coy at this point; of course it’s killer dolls, you know that, the movie knows you know that, and it never pretends anything else, making Ralph’s grudging credulence a sign of his fundamental childlike goodness rather than a signal that he’s an irresponsible nincompoop (though his reluctance suggests he’s well aware that the latter is the more likely possibility, but can’t quite bring himself to ignore his gut on this one).


The cast is fairly perfect in their broad, semi-comic B-movie sort of way, and Lee in particular is a delight as the perpetually unlucky Cubs fan stuck, absurdly, in a dangerous fairy tale which he can’t believe but also can’t ignore. And the script, by Ed Neha (TROLL, and also what the fuck, he wrote HONEY I SHRUNK THE KIDS along with Gordon and co-producer Brian Yuzna) gamely sows plenty of knowing comedy beats --both good natured and malicious-- into the fabric of the story, ensuring that you know we’re all here to have a good time. But you didn’t come here to read about that. You want to know about these dolls, do they got the goods or what?

Well of course they do. Special effects guy John Carl Buechler (who we just encountered as the director of CELLAR DWELLER, though he’s known for his special effects work on FROM BEYOND and a generous sampling of FRIDAY THE 13th, NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET, and HALLOWEEN sequels) manages the difficult feat of instilling dolls with a malevolent life on-screen, using what looks to be a mix of techniques, from stop-motion to green-screening to traditional puppetry. The dolls are splendidly designed to look threatening and eerie without ever looking like they were intended to frighten, and there are a bounty of great scenes with them as the movie goes on (though admittedly it takes a while to get there), most notably a brutal knock-down-drag-out fight between one of the punk chicks and a small army of assailants, and a wonderfully surreal and uncharacteristically restrained sequence where Ralph and Judy stumble into the wrong room and find themselves facing hundreds of the little bastards, all staring accusingly at them. And if there’s one thing I actually ought not to ruin, it’s the final plan the dolls have in store for their victims. But be assured it’s as perfectly ironic and merrily nightmarish as you could want from this concept.  

The Dolls are on point, but despite its generous helping of gorey setpieces, what makes DOLLS special aren’t really its genre goods so much as its general ambiance. There’s something which will be either immediately intoxicating or immediately alienating about its odd mix of kid’s movie, dark fable, classic horror, and schlocky 80’s gimmick killer movie. I think perhaps even more than he really intended to, Gordon managed to find a look and a tone which feel distinctly old-fashioned in their sensibilities, without really being meaningfully old-fashioned in execution. A key part of that is probably the score by multi-instrumentalist and occasional composer Fuzzbee Morse (I’ll pause for a minute while you savor how wonderful that name is; he also did GHOULIES II), which just drips with a sense of knowing magical mischief, and another part is the cinematography by Mac Ahlberg (RE-ANIMATOR, PRISON, STRIKING DISTANCE), which captures the gothic grandeur of the excellent manor set with a unassumingly vivid casualness that smacks of a child’s focus and point-of-view.


But DOLLS isn’t really a movie which is defined by its technical qualities; like any good fairy tale, if it reaches you, it’s because of some essential essence that flickers through the conscious mind and takes up somewhere deep beneath the surface. Or, it doesn’t; Ebert, at the time, praised the film’s setting and execution, but bemoaned that “dolls… look too inconsequential to scare us,” and that compared to RE-ANIMATOR and the weekend’s other major horror release, EVIL DEAD 2, DOLLS is” more elegant, civilized, artistic and clever than the first two movies, but less fun.” I think he might have missed that the intent here is to be fun, but by playing with a different set of rules than the anarchic, button-pushing RE-ANIMATOR or EVIL DEAD. But maybe he got it and it just didn’t work for him. I suspect you must have, as the movie does, some fundamental and stubborn love of old things, of dusty old children’s books and corny old puppets from the distant past which seem stodgy until you dig in and realize how depraved they really are. If that’s not your bag, DOLLS still gamely offers plenty of superficial genre delights, and makes each kill a memorable and imaginative meal -- but for me, anyway, that’s just the icing on the cake. There are a million movies which offer that. What makes DOLLS special is its unique desire to compliment its 80’s horror trappings with something darker, older, and --in an odd way-- more innocent. It’s a funny, silly film in a lot of ways, but it’s quite serious about that impulse, and it makes the experience a singularly satisfying one with no real obvious peer among films of its era.   


CHAINSAWNUKAH 2016 CHECKLIST!
Good Kill Hunting

TAGLINE
They Walk. They Talk. They Kill.
TITLE ACCURACY
Yup, Dolls confirmed.
LITERARY ADAPTATION?
No
SEQUEL?
None; apparently there was some appetite for it from Gordon, but it never happened.
REMAKE?
None, although there is a 2002 Japanese film of the same name by Takashi Kitano, which improbably stars CREEPY’s Hidetoshi Nishijima.
COUNTRY OF ORIGIN
USA
HORROR SUB-GENRE
Killer Toys / Gimmick Killers
SLUMMING A-LISTER?
None
BELOVED HORROR ICON?
Stuart Gordon, Brian Yuzna… Charles Band?
NUDITY?
None
SEXUAL ASSAULT?
No
WHEN ANIMALS ATTACK!
No, unless you want to count the stuffed bear incident.
GHOST/ ZOMBIE / HAUNTED BUILDING?
No
POSSESSION?
Something along these lines, sort of.
CREEPY DOLLS?
Oh. Hell yeah. Enough to justify this category all by itself, even though it hasn’t seen a lot of play these last two years.
EVIL CULT?
No
MADNESS?
No
TRANSMOGRIFICATION?
Yes
VOYEURISM?
No
MORAL OF THE STORY
You neglect the magical innocence of childhood at your fuckin’ peril, bub.


Thursday, October 31, 2013

Society



Society (1989)
Dir. BrianYunza
Written by Woody Keith, Rick Fry
Starring Billy Warlock, Devin DeVasquez, Ben Slack




So there’s this kid, Billy Whitney (actual actor’s name: Billy Warlock) who feels like an outsider. He feels like a misfit, like his parents don’t understand him, like there is something hidden from him that makes him feel vaguely uneasy. Understandable, it was the late 80s at the time and if you didn’t feel like something was seriously wrong then chances are you were an irredeemable sociopath. And, after all, we’ve been through plenty of misfits and outcasts this Chainsawnukah season, I don’t see why this one is any different, let’s take a look at his car, probably some beat up old toyota or something to show that he is not amongst the chosen and hence we can relate to…




Oh, huh. Well, I’m sure when we see him he’ll be some kind of rugged, self-sufficient individual who needs a giant jacked-up jeep to perform tasks of manly…




Oh, well, maybe not.


Obviously, by the end of the 80’s outcasts were becoming an endangered species, hiding in the shadows and refusing to allow themselves to appear on camera for fear of being hunted down by a mob of pastel polo shirts and forcibly indoctrinated into their ranks. So instead of getting your usual misunderstood outcast, in this case we get a misfit who instead of being a misfit is actually super awesome, he’s a star basketball player, drives that super fly jeep, lives in a giant mansion in a warm climate with palm trees, possibly California, has a blonde cheerleader girlfriend, and is successfully running for class president. Not exactly Napoleon Dynamite, or even that shiny vampire fellah the kids seem to love today, you know how they are. The guy from COSMOPOLIS.


But although he has literally everything anyone could possibly want, something is still bothering him: the fact that there are still higher echelons of society into which even he, with his magnificent ride and perky blonde girlfriend and stylish basketball hot pants and absolutely excessive haircut, is not privy to. This is the society of the title, and it seems that this is a small but influential contingent of people who are not just ridiculously wealthy, but absolutely obscenely wealthy. And they carefully control this tight-knit clique in such a way that it commands awe among the outsiders. Even Billy --who just in case you forgot deliberately bought that jeep-- can plainly see that these guys are honkie assholes of the absolute highest caliber, but to his parents and his girlfriend, getting accepted by these these wonderbread cucumber sandwiches seems of absolute paramount importance. The closer he gets to them, however, the more it seems like something truly seriously fucked up is going on behind the closed doors of “society.”

Day 9: The four fugitives from the Flock of Seagulls video shoot remain at large.


Here’s the weird thing about this movie. Despite all the patently hilarious 80’s trappings and the overwhelming abundance of rich-ass cracker preppie douchebags (on both sides of the conflict), this is actually a real good movie. I was chuckling at the beginning, as they try to get us to take seriously that this guy who lives in a mansion and is the captain of the basketball team is somehow oppressed, but as the movie goes on it somehow, against all odds, starts to find tendrils of genuine paranoia creeping into the expensive plastic facade. Nothing out-and-out inexplicable happens for quite a long time, maybe even for the majority of the runtime, but little odd incidents start to pile up. Insinuations of something really twisted and depraved brewing just below the surface, where the normal people can’t see it. Only Billy, with his golden ticket to high society, can get close enough to these cloistered bastards to see that something is definitely off. And the more certain he becomes that he’s onto them, the more strange things seem to get.


And this is a kind of strange that I didn’t expect from Yunza, who I always regarded as kind of a second-tier Stuart Gordon (though he did do an OK segment of that anthology I watched last year, H.P. LOVECRAFT'S NECRONOMICON). Yunza’s films usually seem to be slapdash affairs which try to distract you from their general shoddiness with chintzy stylization and goopy special effects. I never expected that he’d try for (and pull off) something like this restrained, slowly escalating paranoid thriller. But man, if you can look past the goofy haircuts this is one is a real nightmare, a guy stuck in a noose that he can’t quite see but is obviously growing tighter with every moment he struggles against it. Something is clearly going on here, and Yunza delicately but deliberately keeps hinting that whatever it is, it’s something really bad. This isn’t gonna be a cover for a drug smuggling ring or something. This society is up to something that your mind is probably not ready to deal with.

I'm trying to not spoil this for you, so this is all you get.


And when the other shoe drops, holy shit, does it deliver. The film’s discipline pays off in spades and the finale suddenly lets loose a floodgate of twisted genius that should definitely, definitely never be watched by someone on hallucinogens. I can’t spoil it for you, in fact I won’t even include any images from it, because you need to experience this for yourself. But suffice to say that the film’s finale may have you questioning your own sanity. After the last couple films I saw disappointed me with their failure of imagination, this is one which will almost certainly take you somewhere you can’t possibly see coming. It’s a fever dream of twisted images and perversely hilarious transgression which is almost certainly not like anything you’ve seen before.


I guess it’s no surprise, then, that although the film did well in Europe, in the US it was shelved for years and never managed to catch on. The depraved creativity on display here, melded with a pretty brutal social criticism of the wealthy elite, just wasn’t where people’s heads were at in the late 80s and early 90’s. Just like PEOPLE UNDER THE STAIRS, this one has some not-so-subtle dark humor about just how the people on top stay on top, and possibly an even more fatalistic vision for what might happen to anyone who attempts to oppose them. Neither of those films really seemed to reach people with that message at the time, maybe because the middle class still wasn’t hurting too much and the people who were really getting fucked over (like Fool from PEOPLE UNDER THE STAIRS) had gotten so marginalized that they barely even had a voice to describe their problems. The middle class was still doing alright enough that they could afford to ignore the poor, and the poor, being ignored, had finally acknowledged their utter powerlessness to fight for their own preservation. I guess that’s the point of making Billy a fellow rich guy, at least a tangential part of their world. The movie also has a lower-class character named Blanchard (Tim Bartell), who actually is the first one to realize just how deeply off something is here. But he also has no access, no in with these people and no power to protect himself against them (interestingly, Blanchard is explicitly revealed to be Jewish, another sign that he’s a genuine “outsider”). By the end of the 80’s, the idea of the poor fighting for themselves seemed naive, even suicidal; we had to have a character with at least some of the same pull as the malevolent, greedy forces which were then (and still are) sucking the life out of this world and the unlucky people in it.


Well, that was then. But maybe now they’ve gone a little too far. It’s not just the marginalized outsiders who have been left out in the cold; it’s nearly everyone. That sense of isolation and hopelessness shared by the characters in the social critiques of this era may now be dissipating, as we realize we’re all in the same boat, with the same rich fucks forcing us to row them wherever they want to go. Maybe it’s time America had another look at SOCIETY. And even if not, you should still watch it cuz it’s a pretty damn great little horror movie and the special effects were done by a guy who is only credited as “Screaming Mad George.”* Can you resist a movie by a guy with a name that good? No you cannot.

*Also the director of THE GUYVER, where he turned Mark Hamill into a half-man/half cockroach like the true American hero that he is.


CHAINSAWNUKAH 2013 CHECKLIST!



  • LITERARY ADAPTATION: No
  • SEQUEL: No, although they were talking about doing one for awhile.
  • REMAKE: Not yet. Seems inevitable.
  • HAMMER STUDIOS: No
  • SPAGHETTI NOCTURNE: No
  • MORE (PETER) CUSHING FOR THE PUSHING? No
  • SLUMMING A-LISTER: None
  • BOOBIES: Oh yeah, in a sex scene that even wikipedia describes as "acrobatic"
  • DECAPITATIONS OR DE-LIMBING: Not as such, no.
  • ENTRAILS? Borderline, gotta say no, though.
  • CULTISTS: No
  • ZOMBIES: No
  • VAMPIRES: No
  • SLASHERS: No
  • CURSES: No
  • (UNCANNY) VALLEY OF THE DOLLS? There is a blowup doll that is used for, I guess, jokes? And then later, weird disfigured dolls that someone leaves in his jeep. It turns out (SPOILER) they are all a weird practical joke, though. Still, a creepy doll is a creepy doll.
  • OBSCURITY LEVEL: Mid. Well known in the right circles, completely unknown elsewhere.
  • ALEX MADE IT THROUGH AWAKE: N/A


Tuesday, October 2, 2012

H.P. Lovecraft’s Necronomicon

H.P. Lovecraft’s Necronomicon (1993) aka Necronomicon: Book of the Dead aka Necronomicon: To Hell and Back
Dir. Christopher Gans, Brian Yuzna, Shusuke Kaneko
Written by Kazunori Ito (GHOST IN THE SHELL), Brian Yunza, Christopher Gans, Brent T. Friedman
Starring Bruce Payne, Richard Lynch, David Warner, Jeffrey Combs


This is another one of those obscure horror movies that the studios renamed and re-postered about a hundred times in an fruitless effort to get some sales, but this is the video box art I remember from my Video Den days, so I'm sticking with it.

This is a scrappy little out-of-print horror anthology based (sometimes loosely) on the writings of H.P. Lovecraft, who we learn from the wrap-around story got many of his ideas by secretly copying stories out of the Necronomicon (which it turns out is kept closely guarded by a sect of austere monks, who knew? I guess after that whole EVIL DEAD incident they were taking no chances). The wrap-around is not strictly necessary or important, but it does have the welcomed effect of adding that equally unnecessary story-within-a-story thing that Lovecraft’s writing is so full of. The first segment, for instance, finds Jeffrey-Combs-as-Lovecraft reading a story about a realtor telling the story of a guy reading the story of another guy, which may be far enough down the rabbit hole to technically qualify as being in the matrix in the final statistics.

I was actually more interested in this because of Christopher Gans than I was because of Lovecraft. We all know by now that no one is ever going to make a good Lovecraft adaptation, so no point in getting excited about that aspect. Like fans of Philip Dick, Lovecraft fans have had to just come to terms with the idea that the best they’re going to get is Stuart Gordon, who does well-intentioned and watchable betrayals of Lovecraft’s work instead of the cynical and unconscionable ones we usually get. Gans, on the other hand, did the unique and mostly excellent BROTHERHOOD OF THE WOLF and SILENT HILL, so I thought that this -- his first feature-- would be worth tracking down.

Alas, his is the first of the three stories here, and while it does build to a suitably wild Elder-Godsy climax, it’s a long, convoluted slog to get there. Richard (GOD TOLD ME TO) Lynch is searching for his uncle’s Necronomicon, which he believes he can use to revive his adorable dead family. You can imagine about how well that works out for him. I actually sort of enjoy the way Lovecraft’s stories often utilize a framing device of a-story-told-to-the-author, because it can give them a kind of folkloric --even religious-- feel of antiquity and timelessness. But here on film, crammed into a scant 20 minutes of story, it just weighs things down unnecessarily and keeps the story from building much momentum until the very end. Oh well, it’s imaginatively perverse ending, at least, gets Lovecraft’s delicate mix of epic monsters and emotional horror pretty right. 


This is in there somewhere.

Surprisingly, though, the film gets better from there. Japanese director Shusuke Kaneko, --whose biggest career success so far seems to have been directing the first three GAMERA reboots*-- manages what I think may be the best segment, in which a young woman moves into a building with a mysterious reclusive upstairs neighbor who keeps his A/C running overtime. It helps that the always charmingly villainous David Warner (TIME BANDITS, WAXWORKS, and holy shit, I guess he was Kate Winslet’s asshole fiance’s asshole bodyguard in TITANIC) plays the frosty neighbor, but the whole thing works surprisingly well. For a fellah who made his living filming big guys in rubber suits stomping meticulously detailed miniatures of Tokyo,** Kaneko has a surprisingly subtle grasp on an example of perfect Lovecraftian horror which doesn’t focus on big rubbery monsters. The horror here comes from a very human fear of isolation, loneliness, and the betrayal of the body just as much as it comes from the profoundly icky scenario, and Kaneko pulls it off with a grace that really makes it work (he also manages to make much better use of yet another story-within-a-story setup than Gans does).

Finally, we get Brian Yuzna doing what Brian Yuzna does best: making enthusiastic, slightly unfocused, but ultimately enjoyable 90s horror crap. I think his story is about a cop who runs afoul of a serial killer who is working in collaboration with brain-snatching aliens who resemble those pesky power-cable chewing mynocks from EMPIRE STRIKES BACK. But I’m not sure, because I think we can agree that it A) doesn’t make a lick of sense and B) I was fairly drunk by this point. It’s colorful and weird and surreal, and even though it’s a pretty far cry from the Lovecraft story it takes some dubious origin in, it fits nicely as a capstone to this anthology which gradually gets weirder and trashier.

Obviously, this isn’t genre-redefining triumph of Lovecraftian insanity that no one expected it to be ever, but it is a pretty solid, honest effort at an anthology film which is by equal measures pulpy fun and classy horror. The film looks great, the special effects are cool and it's all especially impressive considering the whole film only cost 4 mil if wikipedia is to be believed. It’s funny that Gans would go on to bigger and better things while his two co-directors here would gradually decline into obscurity, but I guess that’s the kind of crazy convoluted logic you would expect the Necronomicon to deliver. Here, though, all three of these transcontinental maniacs turn in respectable work which honors, if not exactly matches, the awesome insanity of Lovecraft’s unique imagination. That alone is enough to thank Cthulu for. 

P.S. As this Octhorrorfest continues, check out Dan P's alternate take on the same material!

*Starring noted Steven Seagal daughter and avant-garde novelist Ayako Fujitani.

**That’s not a hurtful stereotype, by the way, that literally describes GAMERA: GUARDIAN OF THE UNIVERSE. 


CHAINSAWNUKAH 2012 CHECKLIST!

LOVECRAFT ADAPTATION: Three, of varying faithfulness.
BOOBIES: I think there might be some in the second part, but if so pretty minor.
> or = HERSCHELL GORDON LEWIS LEVEL GORE: Some nice de-limbings and meltings.
SEQUEL: No.
OBSCURITY LEVEL: High. Ignored at the time, now out-of-print.
MONSTERS: As the day is long. A couple memorably Lovecrafty ones, too.
SATANISTS: Nah, just Elder Gods.
ZOMBIES: Not sure if David Warner is a Zombie or what, I guess not though.
VAMPIRES: Its way too weird for that.
SLASHERS: No.
CURSES: No.
ALEX MADE IT THROUGH AWAKE: I believe she did.