Why wouldn’t you want to watch a film called Big-Ass Spider?
I really wouldn’t even consider this a review; I consider this a plea for people to watch a recently released documentary called The Act Of Killing. It’s been on many Top 10 lists this year and when I first heard the buzz about it, I was expecting to see something else. I’m not sure what that was, but in my mind I was expecting something not so gut-wrenching.
What would be your definition of an experimental film? I honestly think all definitions are B.S. I say this because of the actual definition of experiment: a scientific procedure undertaken to make a discovery, test a hypothesis, or demonstrate a known fact. I don’t think any of these apply to film.
One of my favorite things in film is the home invasion subgenre. I think it’s one of the scariest real-life events that can take place. Because there have been many great home invasion films, when I saw the trailer for Mischief Night I got a little pumped. I actually turned off the trailer halfway through so it could be a surprise.
Mischief Night has the elements of a great film and does many things right in order to create a suspenseful film. The beginning of the film is a little silly and that’s because they put Charlie O’Connell in it and tried to make him a badass. I’m not sure what they were going for but Charlie doesn’t cut it. Once that dissolves, we are presented with Em, who suffers from psychosomatic blindness and her night alone during a Halloween tradition called Mischief Night.
By Julie Finley
Let me start off by saying it has been very hard for me to enjoy anything lately. This year has sucked the life out of me due to being in constant pain. When you are in pain, it is hard to focus on anything but agony itself. That agony becomes mental anguish on top of the physical distress, thus making everything worse. In order to break through the grip of throbbing torment long enough to take notice of anything else, it has to be of either A) exceptional excellence, or B) something that sucks worse than your current state. In the case of Foetus’s Soak, it is of exceptional excellence!
The opening scene of The Visitor is exactly the kind of scene I love in late ’70s sci fi and horror films. John Huston encounters a faceless hooded figure in a desert, where the orange and grey sky indicates that it may be on another planet or in an alternate dimension. There are explosions, then a snowstorm. The figure is revealed to be a creepy young girl who looks decayed and then disappears. Unfortunately, The Visitor goes downhill from here, unless you like watching bad movies ironically.
It’s that time of year when you’re sick to death of Christmas music. The forced cheer, the same five or six songs over and over . . . you know the routine. Thankfully, the fine folks at Cleopatra Records have recently released Psych-Out Christmas, which is exactly that.
No doubt there are many who’ve heard of Terri Dooley, music lover, DJ, record shop owner, and tireless champion of the unheard music, but for those of us who haven’t, Good Vibrations is a giddy delight. Based on the real life (mis)adventures of the Belfast native, the film should win the hearts of all movie and music lovers, even those who’ve determined themselves too jaded to care.
There’s no question that Ain’t Them Bodies Saints is a visually stunning movie. Though set in Texas during the 1970s, it was filmed in Shreveport, Louisiana. Cinematographer Bradford Young takes full advantage of the natural landscape and his exceptional ability to capture light in a shot is impressive. The performances from the entire cast—Rooney Mara, Casey Affleck, Ben Foster, and Keith Carradine—are outstanding. Writer and director David Lowery certainly has a way with creating a mood. Unfortunately, all of the characters are such slippery fish, that it’s sometimes hard to connect with any of them.
Unless you’re a hardcore Melvins fan, you probably didn’t realize that not only have they been around since the ’80s, they’re also one of the more insanely prolific bands of the last few decades, with dozens of albums (including live albums), EPs, and singles, not to mention their many appearances on various compilation and tribute albums, plus near-constant touring. They not only put to bed that tired old chestnut about bands from the ’80s being terrible, they proceed to stay up all night afterwards, getting shit done.
Tres Cabrones, which loosely translates to “Three Fuckers,” is their latest album, but a cohesive long-player it is not. It’s an assemblage of songs previously released on vinyl singles and EPs, a couple of new tracks, and covers of traditional folk songs (yes). If that sounds like a bit of a mess to you, you’d be right, but it’s still quite good. The album does have one unifying thread that also pushes it into “must hear” territory. All the songs include King Buzzo, Dale Crover, and original drummer Mike Dillard (with Crover on bass).