Showing posts with label the craft. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the craft. Show all posts

Monday, September 2, 2013

The Craftettes


As a female who was 14 in 1996, I consider virtually every day of the year the right time to watch The Craft. Imagine my glee then to discover that way back when Fairuza Balk was pulling her hair and Robin Tunney was rocking a strawberry blond wig, a small studio financed a quickie Catholic schoolgirls-turn-to-Satan movie starring Clea DuVall and Jennifer Rubin as a nun in a fanny pack.


A NUN IN A FANNY PACK!


Quick Plot: After a black mass-y prologue, we’re sent to the present (or really 1990s version of it) where a girls' Catholic school is about to relax for Easter break. A gaggle of students stay behind due to the typically Harry Potter-esque reasons of being orphans, having rich parents that don’t want them around, or trying to avoid abusive dads that have birthed a very dangerous habit of masturbating during confessional.


Said girl with the habit of touching herself during Lord's Prayers is Jamie, played with full panache by an often naked Sheeri Rappaport. As you might guess, it’s Jamie, the girl who performs a topless striptease in front of her window to an audience of uniformly attractive construction workers who ends up falling hardest for Lucifer’s charms. If you’d like, we can henceforth refer to this character as Fairuza Two.


Rooming with Fairuza Two is a goody two-shoes Stanford hopeful named Faith (or Robin Tunney Two Point Oh, if you’d prefer) who has the handy skill of reading fluent Latin and the inconvenient drawback of being a fairly terrible actress, at least during the apparent two-week shoot time of Little Witches. Like me, actress Mimi Rose speaks too loudly, which, as you might expect, IS QUITE ANNOYING (now I know how everyone I converse with feels; sorry guys). She’s also taxed with the dullest role and paired with a hunky (at first) virginal (see?) love interest whose delivery of dialogue rivals Siri on Valium. 


Once Fairuza Two and the remaining students discover a book of spells in a hidden lair, the girls spend some montages preparing to summon Satan or gain knowledge or do something that involves naughtiness. The details are fuzzy, but you can count on a few naked teenagers, some deep demon voiceovers, and a not-that-epic-at-all showdown between the screechy Faith and funtime Jamie.


Directed by Jane Simpson, Little Witches is not a particularly good movie, but if IMDB's 2-week product claim is correct, then it certainly could have been worse. There’s plenty of muted sleaze to keep things somewhat interesting, plus bonus supporting turns by a few genre gems. It doesn’t have a toilet bowl full of snakes on the OTHER witchy thriller of 1996, but it’s nice to know there’s another one.


High Points
Rappaport really does do her damnest to keep her scenes alive. When she’s paired with capable costars (including an always welcome Clea DuVall), Little Witches can appear to be a decent movie. When she’s paired with, well, Mimi Rose, at least she keeps things interesting


Low Points
The presence of the late, great Zelda Rubinstein is always welcome. The waste of her time is not.

Lessons Learned
The trick to fishing is to say three Hail Marys before throwing the line in the water


The trick to not being killed by a demon is to enact stricter supervision over troubled teenagers

The trick to surviving a Good Friday black mass is to shove a Eucharist down the chanters’ throats with all the fervor of Kristy Swanson at the finale of Flowers In the Attic


Rent/Bury/Buy

Hey, for a 90 minute instant watch, Little Witches offers some goofy 90s charm. It doesn’t quite have the nerve to revel in its sleaziness, but there’s still enough to go around, especially if you put it next to the far less fun 5ive Girls. Those who enjoy this decade’s horror output will chuckle at some of the nostalgia, although looking at Little Witches now, it’s hard not to think of it as a pre-Asylum adaptation of the funner, more expensive The Craft. Then again, a cheap quickie version of The Craft costarring Clea DuVall and, in case I haven’t mentioned it, Jennifer Rubin as a nun with a fanny pack is kind of something special, wouldn’t you say?

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Ron Perlman Saves Your Soul


If there’s one thing I’ve learned from both Days of Our Lives and Children of the Corn(s), it’s that no filmmaker should ever, ever never ever, and did I mention never? expect that the computer generated deep demon voice is effective at doing anything other than making an audience giggle like schoolgirls.

Catholic schoolgirls, in fact...
Quick Plot: A pious and pretty nun-watched student sketches cartoons based on Revelations, only to then be sucked up by a demon as priest Ron Perlman (!!!) looks on helplessly. 

I don’t know about you, but you can bet your SAMCRO leather jacket that I’m not putting my faith in a church headed by Hellboy.
Flash forward some years to the present day, where a batch of bad girl teens with fabulous hair are sent to the now empty boarding school. What kind of parents would send their children to an academy with a sordid history of lost students and, more importantly, two faculty members and FOUR OTHER STUDENTS is its own question, but eh, here we are so let’s make the best of it.

Amongst the ‘delinquents’ are Alex, a telekinetic blond, Mara, a sassy lesbian who keeps doing cute things like pretending she might rape you, Cecilia, a blind anarchist with a nose ring, Lea, an overly nice girl who sleeps in ugly pajamas, and Connie, an airhead Wiccan. After a few rounds of pseudo-threatening behavior, the girls discover they all have unique supernatural powers (healing, ESP, shiny hair) which should come in handy as the abandoned school is clearly harnessing some angsty mojo leftover by Father Hellboy’s favorite disappeared student.

5ive Girls is an odd little movie, one that could play to an older or younger audience if it knew itself better. With a primarily teenage cast and a hearty dose of CW-ready music, the film could easily have been marketed a to teenage girls a la The Craft. On the other side, a few more strokes of maturity (you already have attractive young lesbians in schoolgirl uniforms) and you have a sleazy something for adult viewers. But for whatever reason, 5ive Girls doesn’t play either hand with any commitment. 

Tamest sapphic smooch since Britney & Madonna
In a similar vein to Lucky McKee’s okay, not great The Woods, 5ive Girls just sort of moseys along with moments of interest and more moments of eye rolls. The young cast does its best, but none really elevate any of the material to anything Gossip Girl couldn’t do better. Worst of all is the total waste of Ron Perlman in the role of a conflicted? maybe? sort of? or just not? priest. The story itself is simple but fine (something about possession, sacrifice, witchcraft, and deep-voiced demons) but sadly music video director Warren P. Sonoda never seems fully aware of who’s watching.

High Points
I won’t spoil anything, but the ending was far darker than I expected to find in what could almost have been a lightweight PG13 rated horror film
Low Points
Hopefully, the world will one day look back upon the early twentieth century and say “Whatever was our ancestors thinking to believe titling films with numbers that kind of look like letters made any sense?” Seriously, if this trend of ScreFourem and Fiveive Girls catches on, I may need to seek solace on Mars
Lessons Learned
There’s a huge difference between a witch, bitch, head mistress and anarchist

A great way to distract a priest is to ask him about Latin verb conjugation
Bitches always keep their mothers’ maiden names
Credits Curiosity
The opening credits feature Ron Perlman reading scripture in an odd rhythm as a techno beat mixes it up as to sound like a rap. I don’t know what they were going for, but let’s call it awesome


Rent/Bury/Buy
5ive Girls isn’t awful, but its audiences aren’t me...mostly because they’re either 13 year old girls looking for something to program at a slumber party or older gents who get a kick out of girls in knee socks and collared shirts. Sadly for both demographics, the film doesn’t really care to fully please either audience, but there’s still some odd fun to be found in watching Ron Perlman explain Latin grammar or the continuously not good actress from Diary of the Dead summoning Legion himself to possess a bunch of cute twentysomethings playing fifteen year old girls. It’s a mediocre Instant Watch, and one that’s fitting when you’re in the mood for a female-centered boarding school movie that’s a little less good than The Woods.


Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Get Out of My Bad Dreams and Into My Cult




Perhaps it's my own age, but I always find something truly special about non-slasher horror films made in the 1980s. Once you hack your way through the cookie cutter patterned Friday the 13ths and their knockoffs, there is a seemingly endless supply of decent little thrillers rich in gore, compelling storylines, and character actors that instantly keep viewers young by challenging them to identify what other 1980s horror or 1990s sitcom they made brief appearances in.


For these reasons and more, I was excited to finally view 1988's Bad Dreams, a Nightmare on Elm Street-ish inspired flick that had the terrible luck of premiering around the same time as Freddy’s most beloved outing against the Patricia Arquette-led Dream Warriors. Well-cast and directed by a young (very young) Andrew Fleming (he who would go on to make a personal 8th grade favorite, The Craft), Bad Dreams is not what you would call a classic, but certainly worth its weight in dead mental patients and 80s era scoring.


Quick Plot: We open on an icily blond Richard Lynch leading his Waco-esque (pre-Waco times) cult into a fiery mass suicide. One young woman, Cynthia (Nightmare 3’s mohawk donning Jennifer Rubin), survives alone, falling into a 13 year coma which wakes her up conveniently enough in the 1980s, just in time to ride the nightmare horror craze and act beside a Summer School era Dean Cameron in a powerful supporting role. Since Cynthia has no memory of the fire and has even less resources in the outside world, she’s committed to a mental asylum headed by ReAnimator’s Bruce Abbott and Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s Henry Yulin*. Cynthia struggles to fit into the kooky borderline personality support group, quite a challenge when she’s continually haunted by the eerie image of a post-burning Lynch and the slightly uncomfortable fact that everyone she seems to talk commits suicide in an elaborate manner.




This is not your fluffy dumb and dead teenager movie, despite its reputation as Freddy's illegitimate child tucked away in a VHS love nest. While Bad Dreams was clearly influenced by the more famous films of its time, it holds its own and holds up well 20 years later. Sure, we've seen our share of pretty young women with ghostly visions and questionable sanity, but middle aged horndogs being splattered by violent air conditioning and salty mouthed Weekly World News reporters add new and welcomed touches to an age old sub-genre. The film is not without its faults--a clumsy climax and not quite fully realized villain revelation bog down its second half--but Bad Dreams ultimately succeeds on its own terms in creating a new story with memorable characters and a few moments of actual fear.


High Points
From Jennifer Rubin’s sympathetic amnesiac to the quirky but resonant mental patients and always enigmatic Richard Lynch, the entire cast turns in solid performances to make you genuinely care about each character




If you read my disappointed review of The Believers, you may know that I have a fascination of sorts with cults. While I still would have preferred a little more exploration into Unity Field, the presentation of this Jonestown-ish group is haunting and realistic


The gore is not nearly as explicit as in the Nightmare series, but Bad Dreams does boast a few memorably twisted and creative death scenes, plus a truly disturbing and impressively directed baptism by fire that may indeed induce your own bad dreams


Low Points
Somewhere along the line, the film switches viewpoints from Rubin’s patient to Abbott’s psychologist and while this does produce one of the film’s wackiest and most entertaining sequences, it also loses our character investment




This moment actually made me happy, but not in a good way: note the final expression and blase shrug of the police investigator at the film’s resolution. Should major characters really express such a blatant lack of interest after a dramatic and deadly showdown between the protagonists and villain?


Lessons Learned
If you want to be totally 80s, get two divorces and a yeast infection. If all you can handle is Cleveland, stick to the 70s.


Having secret sex in a turbine fan room carries risks far greater than herpes


The record for longest tenure in a coma is 37 years


Comas will do wonders for your hair and complexion




Rent/Bury/Buy
Fans of 80s studio horror should enjoy Bad Dreams as an interesting, if not amazing remnant of a time when horror had something of a heyday. While it doesn’t pack the lasting visual innovation of its ultimate rival, Dream Warriors, it is a well-acted and sometimes haunting film that refreshingly does not involve zombies, big men with machetes, or boobs (sorry boys; the ladies can enjoy the sexiness of Bruce Abbott’s Mr. Rogers’ sweater). The DVD includes a few older featurettes, along with a friendly commentary by writer-director Fleming. An alternate ending packs a creepy and appropriate punch before finishing with a dime store Halloween decoration image that belongs in no film made for more than thirty seven dollars and eighty two cents. Bad Dreams is definitely worth a viewing and could have enough rewatchability potential to merit a purchase.


*You might be wondering why I seem to have this need to credit each actor with another performance. Truly, it’s just too hard not to when nearly every cast member has some notable horror or cult film on his or her resume. Plus, I've been playing the movie-actor-movie connection game for nearly two days, so I'll personally take any chance to boost my personal database of useless film knowledge.