Showing posts with label joey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label joey. Show all posts

Monday, February 24, 2025

Making Contact With Joey

 


In my 43 years on this planet, there are a few images that have stuck in my brain in the worst of ways. 

One of them was Joey.


I was probably all of 7 when I caught a glance of this cover art on the shelf at my local sanctuary that was Long Island's largest independent video store. It was my mission to rent everything possible in the horror section, but for probably a good year or two, I circled that box like Pee-Wee side-eying the snake tank.


See, like any reasonable human being, I despise ventriloquist dummies.

I don't have strong memories of actually WATCHING Joey, but the image of that dummy on a dusty VHS cover has never left my brain. 16 years into February's Shortening, I'm simply running out of killer doll movies and hence, once again, I find myself circling that snake tank, knowing the time has come.

Quick Plot: Young Joey is mourning the death of his beloved father. As he longingly speaks to him through a photograph, Joey's pure '80s toy-filled room begins to come alive. Battery-operated cars start driving, balls are rolling, and records spinning. There is no safety to be found under the covers, even if they are part of a Return of the Jedi sheet set.


When Joey's toy phone begins ringing from the closet, things stop being so scary. It's Dad! 

You might not want to tell that to your bullies.

Back at school, other students mock Joey for, you know, talking to his dead dad on the phone. But Joey is undeterred. His toys lead him down a cobweb covered basement inhabited by something I speak of in hushed tones.

(whispers) Fletcher.


LOOK AT THIS THING.

It grunts, and a pile of soft stuffed animals do his bidding. They SMOTHER Joey's favorite, a blinky robot named Scooter who might otherwise protect the poor kid. All he has to do is turn his head, blink those marble eyes, and drop his crank jaw to let out a deep "BLAHHHHHHHHH" noise and lightning strikes. 


I hate dummies.


It's no better when the thing starts talking. He tells Joey his life's story, sitting on the knee of a master of the dark arts named Jonathon Fletcher who found a way to bridge realities. According to the dummy, it's Fletcher who's on the other side of that toy phone, not Joey's dear dead dad. The late magician has been trying to cross back over using both the dummy and Joey's innocence. When the dummy nearly kills Joey's mom, the kid does the only reasonable thing in this situation: tosses it in a hole and buries him. 


Things don't end there, especially since Joey also has to deal with some toy-killing bullies. Thankfully, we're working in a post-Carrie world where a dead dad and evil ventriloquist dummy ALSO include telekinetic powers for our titular hero. 


Before you know it, Making Contact goes full-out Poltergeist by way of E.T., with actual Darth Vader masks and lightsabers thrown in for good effect. How this movie would have ever managed to escape lawsuits is quite the mystery. I haven't even mentioned the Donald Duck that flies through Joey's hallway. 



Directed by Roland Emmerich--yes, that Roland Emmerich--Making Contact is joyfully pandering to an audience looking for blockbuster '80s breadcrumbs. It's also a pretty big, albeit short mess. From a narrative point of view, nothing really adds up. It's never really clear what Fletcher or his dummy is after, or which is actually the villain. You can't think too hard about a movie that was clearly assembled mathematically.



High Points
Yes, the bullies are straight out of Spielberg, but it's kind of nice to have them acknowledge the fact that the boy they've tormented proved himself to be far braver than they ever would be when facing a murderous 1920s era magical dummy

Low Points
You know, the whole "this movie is patched together from references to far better material" thing


Lessons Learned
German children dubbed by Americans singing My Country Tis of Thee will still be out of tune

Fear comes in many forms, including 3' tall hamburgers

Every '80s lonely boy needs a blond sidekick

Rent/Bury/Buy
Making Contact is not what anyone would call a good movie. It was so clearly crafted to pull whatever bits of blockbusters it could and somehow hit a 90 minute mark without getting sued. That being said, anyone with a closeness to these kinds of movies will probably be highly amused by just how hard it was able to go. And if, like me, you find ventriloquist dummies to be pure nightmare fuel, you won't sleep easy. Find it on Tubi before Disney does. 

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Doll Face Meme!

So I'm a woman of a few talents (surviving bad cinema, badminton, Boggle) but like any mere mortal, certain skills elude me. Organization. Social planning. Planning. Planning socialism, you get the idea.


For instance, I announced a contest several months back which still excites me, and yet I've yet to select a winner. What this means is 1) I will do so this weekend and 2) Said winner will receive a special "I'm sorry I'm a procrastinating poophead prize," fear not, not comprised of poop. This also means I will start reviewing the recommended films with intros from the lovely and daring souls who entered.

Also, it's social blogging season and like most times of year, I rarely seem to be 'wid it.' I've had half a Billy Loves Stu  inspired meme sitting in my draft box for a month, 9 entries into my Horror Digest  honored Willies, and terribly lax thank yous for Versatile Blogging. 

But finally, I found a trend I can easily hop onto! No, not Bandz or street dancing (well, kind of street dancing...hint hint bonus episode of the GleeKast coming at you in 3D!) but the Screen Grab Meme Spectacular bestowed upon me by none other than the baton-twirling BJ-C of Day of the Woman .  Bloggers are ordered to grab a few images with one unifying theme. Now I combed through my globby brain for days trying to figure out what would be appropriate before finally bashing my own noggin with a frying pan for overlooking the obvious.

Starting with The Godfather of Dollinema...



whose name need not be said


Baby Oopsy Daisy, Demonic Toys


Dolly Dearest, Chucky's first true love


Cowboy Curtis (I'm guessing), from Stuart Gordon's Dolls





My Cheat (not screen grab of cinema)

Billy Baloney, Pee-Wee Herman's naughty friend. True story: despite my doll phobia, this thing lived in my house all through my childhood. As recently as three years ago, my mother kept it on top of the refrigerator and would occasionally bring it to the dinner table with the prime aim of making me uncomfortable.


Dream Warriors Got No Strings!


One of the eeriest (if memory serves) PG-Rated films of all time, Roland Emmerich's (yes, that Roland Emmerich) Joey, aka Making Contact


Further proof that all dummies are evil: Anthony Hopkins and Fats, Magic 



May and Suzy


The soon-to-be-Criterioned Night of the Hunter


It takes a bad man to combine clowns with dolls. 
Steven Spielberg, I see your true soul.


Blade, the respectable leader of the Puppet Master series


Mannequins = Dolls all grown up.
Mannequins=me crying in the corner


An underrated anthology classic, Tales From the Hood


And we conclude with the question that's plagued mankind throughout the ages:
How'd it get buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurned?

I was supposed to use this space to tag fellow bloggers to make them work, but how can I focus on choosing who to assign Googling to when the best YouTube compilation of all time is screaming at me?