Film Review - Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory

By Dr. Johnny Fever

Also, for those who prefer written reviews - 

Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory: The Oompa-Loompas probably had to go to the doctor cause their kneecaps...A+

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Film Review - Edward Scissorhands

By Dr. Johnny Fever

Also, for those who prefer written reviews -

Edward Scissorhands: I'd give it an A, but he must'a had his Mommy and Daddy wipe his butt...

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Punch Drunk Love Poster (Poster Series #1)

Alright so I'm going to be doing a series of film posters for The Seafarers Film Blog. Not much else to say as images speak for themselves, that's why they're images. Contact for information about obtaining prints. Enjoy!

-The Hatbox Ghost

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The Lesser Knowns: Lost in the Fog

By: Henry Melville

 

    A limpid fog … exists … outside your car windows. Up ahead you make out a fork in the road. On the right you see a glow of light that reads “vacancy.” Above that reads Bates Motel. You turn left. A sign reads “Welcome to Whitewood,” you pass a church and stumble upon The Raven’s Inn. And as luck has it, there is one more vacancy left just for you. Preparing for bed, you open the bedside drawer and discover an impaled crow. You hear music, chanting, coming from under the floorboards. Today is Candlemas Eve. The holiday of the witches.

    What makes Psycho a near perfect movie is the craft, skill, and intelligence that went into making the film. It's Hitchcock, but it isn't a classic horror. What Horror Hotel lacked in symbolism, Psycho lacked in atmosphere. Satan’s on earth and he lives in Whitewood, the only evil in Bates Motel is Norman. Black shrouds, gothic architecture, graveyards, Christopher Lee, crypts. Horror cliché’s stem from this hardly known nightmare.

So next time you turn around an old lady on a chair, don’t expect Mother. It might just be the burnt corpse of a hundred year old witch looking for her next sacrifice. As for me, I’ll be expecting Vera Miles.

    Psycho came out August 25th 1960. Audiences everywhere were shocked when their heroine was slaughtered in the first thirty minutes. What next? Where was Hitchcock taking them? The reaction to Psycho, like a tidal wave, crashed on the shores and destroyed beach houses. Less than one month later, September 12th 1960, Horror Hotel does not shock or horrify when the heroine is brutally sacrificed in the first thirty minutes of the film. What next? “Who cares, I’ve already seen this in Psycho, let’s just leave this rip-off movie.” Oh, but if they had stayed! Burning witches, satanic rituals, ghosts, animal sacrifices. All done in a pitch-perfect horror film style. And what rip-off could this film be? Production on Horror Hotel started before Psycho. How the two films can have such eerily similar elements and even shot for shot, identical scenes is beyond me. Perhaps, beyond this world.

    Censorship! Psycho came under controversy for its showing of an unmarried man and woman sharing a bed, dressed and for showing blood. Let me remind you that witches are burnt, engulfed in flames alive, in Horror Hotel. If that was not shot down by the conservative 1960s “man,” what could be? Three lines. The censors cut three lines. Language? Not exactly. "I have made my pact with thee O Lucifer! Hear Me, Hear Me! I will do thy bidding for all eternity. For all eternity shall I practice the ritual of Black Mass. For all eternity shall I sacrifice unto thee. I give thee my soul, take me into thy service." A witch screams this as she is being burned alive, flames overtaking the scene. 1960 was not ready for this, but they were ready for Psycho.

    Psycho can be found on any “Top 100” list related to films. Psycho was given a blu-ray release on it’s 50th anniversary. Horror Hotel can be found at your local Walmart cheap DVD bin, or the whole movie can be seen on Youtube.

Subconscious Film - [Rec] (2007)

These essays are specifically for reading after ones personal viewing

        I loathe when people see a photograph, or some kind of art piece where objects have been shifted to fit a metaphor, and criticize it because they argue, they could've pieced it together or taken that photograph. That's not a criticism; it's a selfish examination on the artistic redundancy of pride. I'm not making an excuse for art pieces who are an example of pretentiousness without any thought to define emotion or societal opinion (obviously not the only two things); deflated-paper mache-basketball with spilt toothpaste on top. These are the same people who point their fingers at works of such kind, but widen their eyes for any painting simply because they cannot paint; "Well, this person just shoved a bunch of stuff on sand then took a photograph of it. I could've done that."

        I've heard the same about film. Some plots being easier to explain than others, gives people the idea that it's not hard to make a film, or because the plot is easy to explain, it holds no kind of artistic depth or integrity. A kind of snobbish hindsight. It's true that some of these people could carry the wit and intelligence to maybe think of a simple plot, but they don't carry the integrity to create. 

        [Rec] has a cleverly fantastic plot that pieces together perfectly into a well paced story. The pacing is due to the fact that people who cannot leave a controlled area are quickly becoming infected, which then incorporates it's tension that lingers throughout the duration of the film filled with yelling of bizarre-possessed animal noises...and people. 

        Swaying malnourishment with an antenna'd hammer to dine. The infection is its feast and we are left wavering, confused of the reason; the, why this is happening. Wanting to know; fixated on its past, pondering its future. Is this an ending that finishes directly with the credits and does not carry on it's story in our mind, like David Fincher's Fight Club adaptation? Closed eyes to the green of invisible light. Crawling towards the hope of life and we're left, not stopped, when the black takes hold. 

--- The Spandex Bandit

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'Do you wanna see some blood?' Things Review

by Yojimbo

I’m going to begin this particular review by stating that very few of the following words will hardly be appropriate to articulate why director Andrew Jordan’s first film Things not only exists, but why it works.  Shot on the beautiful lo-fi super-8 (R.I.P.) in 1989 by possibly brilliant, perhaps deranged, absolutely under appreciated beer-swilling Canucks, this movie got buried and lost into obscurity until Intervision Picture Corp. and Mondo Video gave it a proper modern release on VHS!  

On any given day, 83 minutes is a pleasant, brisk span of time to power through a low budget Canadian horror film.  Not on the day you decide to feed this thing (ha!) into your VCR.  The most awe-inspiring aspect of Things is that, more than Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, Star Wars or even Night of the Living Dead, this film absorbs you into its world.  This isn’t a voluntary assimilation, but a forceful, malignant and stupefying transportation into a completely alien version of the real world.  Think of the chalkboard explanation in Back to the Future II or the end of Evil Dead 2/ beginning of Army of Darkness.  You’re there, and you’re screwed.  Deal with it. 

There are few horror movies that nail tone so perfectly.  Some may dismiss Things’ poor (read: horrific) ADR and cheap, knockoff Suspiria lighting techniques and nearly plotless story and practically indecipherable dialogue and fuzzy, off-focus cinematography as poor filmmaking and/or budgetary constraints. Screw the naysayers says I!  There is absolutely no way that all of these things, that every aspect of the filmmaking process, was unintentionally skewed.  These were madmen seeking to slyly make others nutty via home video in a clamshell case.

But let’s pause, get grounded, and discuss the story.  I guess it’s about a woman who had some unseen malpractice that makes her give birth to giantspiderant creatures in some cabin for some reason, and a couple of guys drink beer, argue and try to deal with the situation... or something. 

None (not one) of the explicit horror tropes succeed.  The blood doesn’t even look like food-colored corn syrup or even ketchup, but more like watery Aunt Jemima.  The creatures are not bad looking; their appearance being somewhere between purposefully manufactured for the film and oddity toy store fare.  Obviously whatever budget existed was for beer and thing effects.  That being said, they hardly make one even bat an eye.  Oh, and of course there is full-frontal nudity from a woman wearing a plastic Satan mask, which is odd, but not a contributing factor to the subversive punch to the gut that this film delivers. 

This film really has to be seen to be believed. Scratch that.  You need to watch it, but you still won’t believe it. Pardon my French, but it's going to fuck you up. Bad.

Some may say that this film is not for everyone, or some may not enjoy it, or that it’s only for deranged, tasteless, obese cinephiles, but I say this flick is for the whole family.  Pain is gain.  Invite your girlfriend/boyfriend over, I guarantee your relationship will grow because of the experience, and what could be better than mutual bonding through the art of cinema?  Nothing, that’s what.

Subconscious Film - Criterion Collection - Videodrome (1983)

These essays are specifically for reading after ones personal viewing.

       

        I've seen Videodrome before, but watching it again, I feel like I haven't been giving myself enough reason to like it. Although I can extract the surface content and love the practical effects, I wasn't digging myself in it personally. I feel like I should be able to protect the things I like; I thought of that while watching for a second time.


        The climbing acceptance of immorality and desensitization of people based around a box of sadomasochism in a metaphor form of addiction; the surface theme. Not hard to see, nor feel with the lash of a whip. I knew it was saying it in a "cool" way, but didn't feel like that was enough for me to like it to the extent I did; or, enough reason to protect the aspect of me liking it against those who would appose it's greatness. I kept my eyes on the skin of change.


        Emotional connectivity is found through the acceptance of death, or the contemplation there of. There is a slight silence by those who could feel Max's confidence in his "belief." His faith in the "new flesh." I wanted this confidence, and most importantly, I liked it. Is the new flesh an evolution in the body, or is it the progression of abstract thought, leading to death? Are those the same thing? When does Max's body coincide with his mind, and which does this evolution take course through; mind or body? Is Nicki God, or just the projection of Max's subconscious; or, a projection of what Videodrome wants Max to view as his subconscious?


         What is justice, in this world Cronenberg has placed us in? Max's killing is justified because of the sympathy you feel towards his character, his charm (because of our suspension of disbelief and the little we know of his character background) supersedes morality. The world Max lives in, or more the atmosphere Cronenberg has created, represents confinement; much like Terry Gilliam's Brazil which were both made in the 80's, two years apart from one another. Even the outside shots make me feel enclosed in a space that stretches lips and hands into whispers of masochism. A television. I don't know if I can analyze this movie. Are five question marks in a review good for a critique? Six. Questions are necessary for progression, so do people like and understand the use of questions in a critical analyzation. I didn't question mark that. I think if we learned anything from Terrence Malick, they most certainly are. So when I ask these questions, do I and the people I'm writing to learn around me, or is this just subconscious scat?


        When I was constantly questioning myself during Videodrome and caught the, acceptance of death, I was excited; proud even. I found something I could attach myself to. I then realized the answer of my fondness towards the film; I was connecting myself without the conscious knowledge of why, which is the purpose. I had found purpose and could then transform my purpose to intellect; which I know, must transform even further, and find the deeper meanings that cannot be accepted nor understood by my current mind. Death to Videodrome. Long live the new flesh...

Always,

--- The Seafairy

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