Wild Child of Evil! Shiver review!

When a story becomes too fantastic and passing the point of belief when it’s suppose to feel true, doesn’t speak very highly of the story’s quality.  The draining feeling of being sucked into such can only leave a bad taste in a viewer’s mouth.  Why does this happen, you ask?  The story starts to stretch, reaching a highly unobtainable goal to which we’re suppose to believe that can happen when we know for a fact that there is about a zero to null chance of that event from ever occurring in real time.  If a fantastic story done correctly, your brain doesn’t have to stretch beyond it’s belief and accept the novel nature of the story’s reason or direction.  Isidro Ortiz’s Shiver, not to be confused with David Cronenberg’s Shivers, is exactly the correct method in suspending our disbelief below our threshold of reason.

Santi is a tormented high school kid with an over protective mother.  His severe physical allergic reaction to sunlight and his teeth deformity has labeled him forever a vampire boy by the school bullies.  When the doctor suggests moving Santi to a dimmer part of the country, he and his mother waste no time settling into a small village nestled deep with in the crevice of mountains.  Peace and quiet is far from achieved as local murders have been pinned to Santi who quickly believes he is the next victim of a monstrous forest killer.

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Dig the Evil out of your Ears! Scream of the Banshee review!

Lauren Holly.  Oh, sweet Lauren Holly.  My, my how have you tripped and stooped to such films that are way under your more gifted talents (or assets for that matter).  From your Turbulence flight of terror to your sweet, Angel Boris lookalike sweet piece of round booty in Dumb and Dumber to your short-lived stint of empowering women roles in NCIS and, now, you’ve dropped to so called “originals” presented by the After Dark collection.  Whats next, Lauren Holly?  Will we see you next on Soap Operas and Nickelodeon shows?  Scream of the Banshee, part of After Dark collection, should be considered as a Nickelodeon TV show!

A university professor and her understudies are sent a mysterious package with no return address.  The contents of the box are that of a gauntlet, a suited metal armor that covers the forearm and hand.  A note with the gauntlet directs them to Section 3 where a box has been hidden behind a deteriorating wall.  The professor uses the gauntlet to open the box releasing a ear-piercing, blood thirsty terror that will haunt them and kill them if they so much as scream!

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Darabont’s TV Evil! Buried Alive review!

Being a nostalgia fiend has some advantages.  I’m not just rehashing old material you’ve probably seen or read a billion times before, spewing the muck and bile that’s been regurgitated and swallowed down again only to be regurgitated once more.  Hardly do you see another, run-of-the-mill review about Scream, Friday the 13 VIII: Jason Takes Manhatten or Bride of Chucky.  Most horror fans are familiar with the bodies of these works; my realm of interest scratches at the indie circuit and those lesser known films that, perhaps, folks are aware of but never seen, or have witnessed them in the past and their minds can’t piece together what that film was in the present.  The latter happened to me with an old Frank Darabont TV movie Buried Alive.  You know Darabont, right?  He only did some of the most prolific work of the last decade and half adapting works from Stephen King and kicking off the hit AMC TV show The Walking Dead!

Clint Goodman lives a humble town with his high maintenance wife Joanna.  Her love for Clint has been long gone ever since he constructed, what he thought, was their two story dream home in his home town.  Joanna strings along an affair with a city doctor; they plot to kill Clint with a fish secretion that causes a fatal heart attack.  When Joanna pulls off the caper, she collects what she thinks is her dues:  sells the house, sells the business and is ready to leave town to start her new life.  However, Clint awakens.  Trapped inside his own coffin, he manages dig himself out, discover Joanna’s dastardly doings and plans his own revenge against his wife and her lover.

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Werewolf evil? More like Puppy Love! Face of the Screaming Werewolf review!

My mindset on vintage horror flicks goes a little something like this – they’re without a shadow of a doubt all classics.  There will be always be films that are more popular and stand out more than other black and white labeled pioneers of earlier film-hood, but the question begs, have you’ve ever seen a horrible horror movie from the Lon Chaney Jr. or Boris Karloff days?  Before tonight, I can honestly say no.  Then, I had to go and watch Cheezy Flicks version of Face of the Screaming Werewolf starring Lon Chaney Jr. and was directed by three directors.  Remember what I’ve always said about having multiple directors – the shit never works!

Dr. Redding and his team use hypnosis on a Cali girl named Ann Taylor in discovering ancient forms of life in the Yucatan pyramids.  When him and his team go exploring through the deep dark tunnels of the ruins, a living-ish breathing-ish mummy attacks them, but falls when the team fights back.  They also discover a more modern individual also mummified for unknown reasons.  Dr. Redding takes both mummified subjects back to America, but is soon killed and the modern mummy is stolen when Redding attempts to showcase his finds.  When the modern man is revived by a bolt of lightning (Frankenstein reference anyone?), his uncanny secret of being a werewolf is revealed when the full moon just happens to be out at the same time as his revival.  The werewolf and the mummy are both reanimated and walk the city, stalking and killing innocent folk.  Who will stop them?  Hell if I know.

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Is Your Home this Evil? House (Hausu) review!

Japanese horror isn’t something I pride myself on having a lot of knowledge of or contain much material about, but I do find enjoyment in what I come across even if the resemblance to an anime style becomes apparent in the storytelling.  I’ll be straight forward with you right here and now, I’m not a fan of Japanese anime.  No, sir.  Can’t say that I am.  However, my latest venture into the J-horror sends me back in time to the groovy year of 1977.  The film is called House and no, not the Steve Miner feature from ’86.  Also known by it’s Japanese name Hausu, House is a simple ghost tale with ambitious and groundbreaking special effects that dared much of the decade to catch up with the times.

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