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Whew! Made it through another fright-filled October. I'm taking a day or two to catch my breath. Then I'll come back with some "regular" movies.

The Cabin in the Woods

The Host

Directed by Joon-ho Bong.

2007. Rated R, 119 minutes.

Cast:

Kang-ho Song

Hie-bong Byeon

Hae-il Park

Doona Bae

Ah-sung Ko

Dal-su Oh

Jae-eung Lee

After being ordered to do so by his American supervisor, a young doctor pours numerous bottles of toxic chemicals down the drain which come out on the other end in the Han River. As a result, a rather large creature is formed that likes to spend its time eating and/or collecting human beings. As you may have heard, this movie has a bit of an Anti-American agenda but its easily enough ignored if you like your creatures sans politics. The special fx are solid as the creature looks believable. There is plenty of depth here. However, it can be enjoyed by skimming along the surface as the movie periodically throws things at you trying to get a reaction. So it's a fairly fun monster flick that doesn't mind trying to make a statement but forgets that just because its monster is grotesque doesn't automatically mean its scary.

MY SCORE: 7/10

Cat People (1982)

Directed by Paul Schrader.

1982. Rated R, 119 minutes.

Cast:

Nastassja Kinski

Malcolm McDowell

John Heard

Annette O’Toole

Ruby Dee

Ed Begley Jr.

Frankie Faison

John Larroquette

Scott Paulin

Tessa Richarde

As a teenage boy I loved this movie. Even then, I watched as many flicks as I could get my eyeballs on. Summer trips from my native Queens to visit my grandparents in North Carolina meant an escape from the confines of VHF and UHF viewing (google it, young’uns) and a couple months with the infant known as cable television. This included HBO. During the hottest months of either 1983 and/or ’84, I forget which, they ran Cat People at least three late nights a week. I watched it as often as possible. It’s lack of explosions, somber mood and exotic looking leading lady made it seem artsy, to me. Watching it made me feel sophisticated as if this were somehow too snooty for my friends. Still, it has heavy doses of what budding bags of he-hormones crave: blood and boobs. I thought I discovered truly high caliber cinema.

Thirty years later, I realize I have no idea what I was watching, yet I love it just the same. I must say that today my reasoning is much different. What I took for bold artistic choices are simply misguided filmmaking decisions. The storytelling is strongly of the “maybe no one will notice this plot hole” variety. Malcolm McDowell gives a typically unhinged performance while John Heard resides at the wooden end of the spectrum. Leading lady Natassja Kinski is still an exotic beauty, but her acting is more in line with Heard’s than McDowell’s. Superman’s mom and girlfriend (figure that one out) Annette O’Toole is somewhere in the middle but is more than reason enough to watch if you’re into redheads and maybe even if you’re not. The great Ruby Dee gets her Miss Cleo on while my boy Dan from Night Court (John Larroquette) has a small role. And I haven’t even mentioned how bizarre it all is. Unintentional humor, WTF moments and some surprisingly still effective special fx abound.

If you don’t believe that this is one strange trip, let me fill you in on our plot. It seems that some tribal people in the most backwards part of some third world country have sacrificed so many of their own children to the local black leopards over the centuries that the cats have evolved into a human/feline hybrid. They’re usually in human form. However, when they become sexually aroused they transform into black leopards. The only way they can turn back human is to kill. Nice. There’s a kicker. Paul (McDowell) has been living with this curse for quite a while. His sister Irena (Kinski) doesn’t yet know either of them have this affliction. She’s has just flown out to New Orleans to stay with her brother whom she hasn’t seen since she was four. Paul knows something else Irena doesn’t: the only way to get your groove on and not turn into a big black cat is by doing the oochie-coochie with a sibling. Ewww. Imagine Irena’s dismay and disgust when her big bro starts puttin’ the moves on her. I don’t mean the smooth player moves, either. I mean the overly forward desperate, sweaty, wide-eyed, screaming ‘I really need to get in your pants right now’ type of moves. Double ewww. Since sis won’t give him any, Paul continues dining on the local population of loose women. Meanwhile, Irena slowly comes to the realization of what she is and simultaneously falls for Oliver (Heard), the zoo curator. Yup.

By the way, this is a remake of a 1942 movie which I haven’t worked up the courage to watch. Somehow, I’m doubting the 1942 version is quite this bonkers. There were codes and restrictions and whatnot. This newer version dispenses with any notion of restraint and just goes for the full-on ridiculous. It’s saving grace, if it wants to be taken seriously are the special fx. Cat People isn’t loaded with them, but they’re effective. In particular, Nastassja Kinski’s transformation scene is among the best I’ve ever seen considering the era in which it was made. It even blows away stuff I’ve only seen recently. Unfortunately, nothing else here is nearly on that level. If you’ve seen this movie, you’re probably nodding your head in agreement right now. If not, you must understand the big lesson the movie teaches us. Suffice it to say, it shuns incest by extolling the virtues of bondage and bestiality. For that, it’s so bad it’s awesome!

MY SCORE: -10/10

Dr. Giggles

Directed by Manny Coto.

1992. Rated R, 95 minutes.
Cast:
Larry Drake
Holly Marie Combs
Cliff De Young
Glenn Quinn
Keith Diamond
Richard Bradford
Michelle Johnson
Doug E. Doug
Deborah Tucker

Evan Rendell, Jr. (Drake) doesn’t just escape from the mental institution, he leaves a pile of dead and mutilated bodies in his wake. He fancies himself a physician and the nuthouse has been keeping him from the patients he so desperately wants to see. They don’t want to see him, but that’s beside the point. After so many years away, the doctor is in.

‘In’ means he’s made it back to his hometown of Moorehigh to settle the score with the good citizens who joined forces and killed his dad, naturally named Evan Sr., who was actually a real doctor. Unfortunately, dad snapped when his wife came down with severe heart problems. To find her a new one, he started taking the hearts out of patients who not only weren’t donors, they weren’t even dead yet. Judging by the town folks’ reaction, this practice was highly frowned upon. Junior trying to kill everyone in Moorehigh ensues.

Not only is the story typical slasher fare, it absolutely rips off both Halloween and A Nightmare on Elm Street (this includes having the local children sing a disturbing song about the doc). Dr. Giggles simply combines the plots of those movies and repurposes them to fit its villain. This was particularly problematic in 1992 since both movies were fresh in our collective mind as the brilliant originals of still-going franchises. Dr. Giggles neatly sidesteps this short-coming with a heaping dollop of morbid humor.

To call it a twisted comedy doesn’t quite do it justice. In fact, Dr. Giggles uses it’s jaded funny bone to do the impossible. It takes a string of doctor-speak clichés, uses them as blatantly corny one-liners and it’s somehow hilarious. For instance, take the scene in which he bludgeons someone to death. After they go flying across the room, he quips “Average reflexes.” Reading it here, you’re probably rolling your eyes at how bad that is. When you see it, you’ll be cracking up. The killer is (ha, I’m punny) Larry Drake delivers each line with a perfectly straight face, not even a hint of knowing how silly the words are coming from his mouth. At other times, his warped giggle causes our own uneasy chuckles. He’s simultaneously menacing and ridiculous, no easy feat.

Dr. Giggles is an underappreciated gem of a slasher flick that anyone not a fan of the genre might immediately dismiss. The rest of us won’t be able to contain our laughter even as bodies are sliced open. Speaking of bodies being sliced open, I haven’t even mentioned the morgue scene. That alone makes this worthy of a portion of the time you’ve allotted for watching DTMs (dead teenager movies), if you’re into that sort of thing.

Mr. Brooks

Directed by Bruce A. Evans.

2007. Rated R, 120 minutes.

Kevin Costner 

Demi Moore

William Hurt

Rene Russo 

Danielle Panabaker

Dane Cook

Marg Helgenberger

Ruben Santiago-Hudson

Aisha Hinds

Serial killer Earl Brooks (Costner) gets the urge to kill again after two years of inactivity. He follows the urge, tries to maintain his successful business and his family but things aren't quite working the way he wants.

In a welcome change, this movie foregoes any notion of it being a 'whodunit' right away. Its not interested in discovering who the killer is, that's established fairly early. It's more interested in how Mr. Brooks copes with all that's going on in his life. Often, it involves talking things over with Marshall, the walking talking persona of his conscioence played by William Hurt. Admittedly, its a gimmick but these two actors make it work extremely well showing off a mutual morbid sense of humor. As the police officer trying to capture "The Thumbprint Killer," Demi Moore goes into tough-chick mode and delivers as well. The writers did well to give her three story-lines of her own that all work even if they're a bit over the top. Even Dane Cook is adequate in his role.

Story-wise, twists in the plot are presented more as complications Brooks has to deal with and you become interested in how he's going to take care of the various problems that arise. Between he and Marshall they come up with some pretty good stuff. Though there are a good number of tense and even a few gory moments, this is more of a psychological thriller than a true horror film, but one that takes the odd approach of presenting the killer not as a raving lunatic but as a normal guy with an unusual addiction.

With the number of story-lines going on, at least six off the top of my head, some things just fall by the wayside. Namely, how Mr. Brooks came to be a serial killer is ignored. Though, the suggestion is there that homicidal urges are hereditary. Also Brooks' wife (Russo) is also ignored. She's pretty much there just for reaction shots. She could've been developed a lot more. Through her action scenes we discover that Demi Moore's character is a superhero or at least related to John McLane from the Die Hard series. This character made her G.I. Jane look like her character from Ghost.

Mr. Brooks is for fans of movies like Silence of the Lambs and Seven. It's not quite in their league but I think it is terribly underrated. Far better with far less hype than 2007's other big thriller, Perfect Stranger. It was fun to see Costner playing way against type and like I said earlier it was fun watching the back and forth between he and William Hurt. Stay away if you think there have to be likeable characters in a movie. I honestly don't think there are any.

MY SCORE: 8/10