Jobriath A.D. tells the story of singer and would-be glam rock star Jobriath’s career and personal life. It focuses on the period when he was professionally active between 1968 and his death in 1983. His story is told nearly entirely from interviews with people who were involved in his life and career at the time or people who were influenced professionally by his work. There is some narration (by Henry Rollins, no less) to tie parts of the interviews together, and a series of animations provide visual interest and make up for the fact that there exists very little actual footage of Jobriath.
Even talking about Zombieworld seems silly to me. Dread Central recently released a “movie” anthology of zombie shorts. That seems interesting at first, but when you notice that the shorts are have been around for a few years and are simply strung together with no wraparound, you realize this was just a sloppy and lazy way to make a quick buck.
As any regular reader of this site knows, especially if you follow Brad Henderson’s reviews, ’80s throwback horror and action films are a hot commodity right now. Sometimes they work; sometimes they don’t. The ones that do have two things in common: enthusiasm and commitment. Even when these films aren’t total successes, there are usually enough enjoyable elements to make them well worth watching. Which brings me to Wolfcop.
One of my favorite movies is a film from 1968 called Symbiopsychotaxiplasm. It is the cinematic definition of “meta.” A film crew is making a film in Central Park. They are being filmed by another film crew. Somewhere across town, a film class is critiquing the film as it plays out. Meanwhile, a flamboyant group of Central Park weirdos interrupts the filming of the original film. If it sounds like madness, it’s not. Sure, it’s experimental as Dr. Jekyll, but it’s an utterly fascinating watch.
Well, I just watched Blood Car. I freaking loved Blood Car.
Blood Car was apparently made in 2007 and is just now getting a physical media release in 2015. Criminal. Going into it I wasn’t expecting much because it seemed from the plot and cover art it was going to be an overly gory schlock fest. Well, it was an overly gory schlock fest but a damn fine one that had me tearing up I was laughing so hard. That’s something to be said because I’m not really a “LOL-er” or whatever the hell you call it. I laugh, but it’s mostly inside. Soulless is another name for it, so I’ve been told.
You know that moment when you first start getting a hangnail? You know you should get the clippers and cut it off before it becomes a real hassle, but instead, you play with it. You twist it around, push it back into the already ruptured skin, or pull on it. Sometimes, you can make it bleed. It hurts. You know you should stop. You don’t even understand why you’re putting yourself through that pain. But you keep doing it because part of you, a dark nameless section of your psyche, enjoys it. It loves the pain. It needs the humiliation.
If you’re a fan of that level of masochism, you’ll have a great time with The Scared Stiff Collection, Vol. 1. Low-budget horror can be a wonderful thing. Even some zero-budget stuff can be all right. But there are some movies that are not watched as much as they are gawked at, where wretched ineptitude is the real star of the show and it hurts.
By Less Lee Moore
From the lurid Frank Frazetta-style cover art to its evocative title, The Witch Who Came From The Sea seems like it might be a female-fronted version of The Beastmaster. As intriguing as that possibility sounds, the film is something altogether different and much more profound. Directed by Matt Cimber (Butterfly, Hundra) in 1971, The Witch Who Came From The Sea wasn’t released until 1976, and even then, ran afoul of the MPAA for what they considered gratuitous violence, nudity, and rather dark subject matter.
One of the fascinating things about Christianity is you can do anything and call it a ministry. Hand puppets. Being a clown. Fixing cars. Shaving. Do it in the name of Jesus Christ, and it is a fully sanctioned activity done for the benefit of the Church Universal.
It makes sense, therefore, that there could be a professional wrestling ministry. The documentary Wrestling with Satan spotlights a six-year period in the history of the Christian Wrestling Federation (CWF). Led by the charismatic Rob Vaughn, who performs under the name “Jesus Freak,” the CWF is an actual independent wrestling company. His stable of wrestlers is highly trained and works well in the ring. Wrestling fans will appreciate the fact that the only special feature on the disc is comprised of seven bonus matches.
Watching filmmakers and writers grow is a beautiful thing. Through the past couple of years I’ve kept my eye on a few filmmakers like Adam Wingard, Ti West, Adrián Garcia Bogliano, Eric England, and many more. As far as more recent filmmakers, I’ve been following Jeremy Berg and John Portanova. A little while ago I reviewed their directorial feature debut, The Invoking. I was highly impressed with the direction they took with The Invoking and it falls into my category of “story horror” which I’ve described in detail in the past. So when I got word of them doing another horror film, and one involving aliens, I was down.
Remember PC games in the ‘90s that were very story based with a ton of cinematics and limited gameplay? For the most part, the cut scenes were actual actors and not animation and they were poorly acted. I was always a big FPS fan and I disliked the type of games that included just a lot of walking around, pushing buttons, and someone who popped up in your HUD and told you what you were doing wrong or right. I’m guessing this is why I disliked Day Of The Mummy.