The Boy Next Door

Allow me a hipster moment, if you will:

I liked her first.

Yes, I'm referring to Academy Award winner/box office champ/soundbite extraordinaire Jennifer Lawrence, whose talents I've been praising since a little indie called Winter's Bone got thrown into the discussion of films that should be, but never would be, nominated for an Oscar. Now everyone and their grandmother has something positive to say about the girl who would be Katniss Everdeen, allowing me a certain warranted measure of I Told You So henceforth.

Anyhoo, House At the End of the Street:

That's its roof. At the end of the street.

Quick Plot: After about 10 minutes of animated logos from different studios, we're introduced to a prologue wherein a young girl named Carrie-Anne slaughters her parents. Four years later, a very blond mother/daughter pair move in to a house at the other end of the street on which said murder took place, forever driving the property value down and making a lot of white suburbanites angry.

Elyssa (Lawrence) is a rocker teen with an attraction to project boys. With her long necklaces and raccoon eye shadow, Lawrence is like the strangely displaced niece of her 2012 best actress competition Jessica Chastain in Mama. Where the latter had to deal with two flaxen-haired feral children with an unhealthy attachment to a mysterious mother figure, Lawrence's Elyssa gets saddled with a single dreamy flaxen-haired loner harboring an unhealthy attachment to a mysterious sister figure.

Coincidence, or SOMETHING MORE?

Eh, probably the first one, especially since House At the End of the Street is way more fun to pair up with Sleepaway Camp than Mama. I'm not quite spoiling anything here, but trust me: director Mark Tonderai might have spent a few summers at Camp Arawak before finishing his film.

House At the End of the Street was ravaged by critics and horror fans when it debuted in the dreaded wasteland of January releases. Look, I'm not saying it's good--because seriously, it's not--but for whatever reason, I ended up having way more fun than I expected with it. Maybe it was the way Oscar winner Lawrence coyly delivered the line "I'll be right back" (yup, that happens) or how Elisabeth Shue rotates between cool mom, overprotective mom, and hot mess wino mom all within one awkward dinner party scene. By the time Gil Bellows sauntered into a dangerous situation with a foreshadowingly damaged flashlight, I simply couldn't be angry.

Theatrical horror is a constant source of controversy among the dedicated fanbase. Passionate moviegoers like to hurl guilt-loaded insults at people who pay money for dreck and bypass what they perceive to be quality. In theory, I understand this, but when this situation usually turns into "People paid to see Paranormal Activity 3 but didn't support Hatchet II. THEY'RE NOT REAL FANS!", I take offense.

Personally, I kind of hated Hatchet II, and definitely hated being told that I wasn't a true horror fan for not heading down to my AMC theater to show that I wanted more Unrated horror in the world. As I've said before, (in audio form even!), the horror genre will always exist in its true glory in the realm of home media. From the VHS days of the '80s to VOD of today, the modern cinematic audience does not need bucket seats stained with popcorn oil to appreciate or support a film. Let the teenagers spend their allowance on House At the End of the Street. Their decision does not mean I won't get the pleasure of cozying up with my cats to watch The House Of the Devil from the comfort of my own couch.

That was a minor tangent, but probably more thought-out than the plot of House At the End of the Street. 

High Points

I think the oddly timed reveal of the film's first big 'twist' was part of the attacks lodged at this movie, but I kind of liked how House At the End of the Street showed its hand earlier than expected. It threw me off, whether intended or unintended, and in the world of lazy theatrical PG-13 horror, any surprise is a good one

Low Points

During the big finale, there's a genuine shock in terms of a lead character being fatally injured. Then the movie remembers it's aimed at a mass market and 'fatally injured' turns into 'mild flesh wound'

Lessons Learned

Just cause someone's a wasted slut in high school doesn't mean her daughter will be too

Double murders are somewhat of a drag on the real estate market

There are probably easier ways to keep an older boy from dating your daughter than to invite said older boy over for what's supposed to be a pleasant dinner party then suck down an entire bottle of red wine and slobber into an awkward fight with your teen. Easier, but none as entertaining...

Look! It's...

Ally MacBeal's lost love/Goblin's earnest dad Gil Bellows in the role of the Dumbest Policeman Since Those Germans In The Human Centipede

Pet Peeve of the Week

As a test, I spent about 5 minutes this morning removing a knife from its holder to see if it was humanly (or Emily) possible to achieve that oh-so-iconic "SLICE!" sound. Guess what? KNIVES DON'T MAKE NOISE WHEN REMOVED FROM HOLDERS. If you could tell that to EVERY FILMMAKER EVER, I'd be very grateful

Rent/Bury/Buy

Well, I streamed House At the End of the Street on my way to and from work one day, and dangit, I couldn't help but be amused. This is NOT good. Really. It's PG-13 horror with a few sprinkles of 'What the F-Word Used Non-Sexually Since We're PG-13?" It reveals its twist before it even built doubt as to where it was going. And yet, I found myself far less angry than I was watching the more ambitious (in theory) Silent House and to an extent, the constantly shooting-itself-in-its-CGI-foot Mama. Don't watch it expecting anything of quality. But for a mindless 'really?' kind of viewing, one could do worse.

De-Filed!

April 16th is a day most celebrated by CPAs relieved to end the hellish tax season, but for those off-the-books employees, it's just another 24 hours of cash payments without government interference. Of course, under the table occupations come with their own drawbacks in addition to the benefits--not legal, of course--that one should always consider before biting a thumb at Uncle Sam.

But gee, how can I possibly know which unofficial careers are hazardous? Considering this is a column devoted to horror movies, do you really have to ask?

Graverobbing

As Seen In: I Sell the Dead, Repo! The Genetic Opera

Perks: Depending on the climate, the joy of working outdoors; coworkers won’t annoy you with personal calls or gum snapping

Cons: The smell of rotting flesh; the occasional zombie uprising; vicious wars with Irish street gangs; likely STDs contracted from client Paris Hilton

Babysitting

As Seen In: Halloween, House of the Devil, When a Stranger Calls, The Pit

Perks: Free reign on a stranger’s kitchen; access to cable TV; that feeling of power you can relish in dangling early bedtime over weaker beings

Cons: Becoming the target of a super efficient slasher, dealing with bratty, occasionally dirty-minded rugrats with Svengali-esque teddy bears

Handyman

As Seen In: The Beyond, The Bad Seed, The Hand That Rocks the Cradle

Perks: There’s always a new task to tackle

Cons: Dealing with shoddy non-OSHA certified ladders can easily cause fatal falls over the gates of hell; Competition with other househelp can lead to legal woes; Disagreements with employers’ children never ends in your favor

Artist

As Seen In: Spiral, Fear of Clowns, The Driller Killer, The Collector (1965)

Perks: Get beautiful women to stare at you seductively in progressively less clothing each week; Host gallery openings where you can meet wealthy single men

Cons: Being stalked by topless clowns; Being kidnapped by creepy Terrence Stamp; Feeling mooched off of by your bisexual girlfriend

Prostitution

As Seen In: Peeping Tom, American Psycho, Saw II/IV,

Perks: Great for those that prefer nighttime hours; Occasional wealthy clients can yield a decent payday

Cons: The whole having-sex-with-maniacs thing doesn't always prove worth the stitches and chainsaw-caused concussions; Being locked inside dank real estate filled with poisonous gas and six other ex-cons

Thievery

As Seen In: The People Under the Stairs, Psycho

Perks: Enjoying money and pretty things that aren’t yours

Cons: Guard dogs; Twitchiness; Karma

Camp Chef

As Seen In: Sleepaway Camp

Perks: All the oatmeal you can sneak; In a world pre-Megan’s Law, it seems possible to get hired despite a clear sense of ill intentions towards kids

Cons: Nobody misses you (or your cooking) when you end up boiling in your own pot

Slavery

As Seen In: Candyman, Underworld, Broken

Perks: Zero stress wondering what to do with your time

Cons: Angry mobs; Chains can chafe 

I don't know about the rest of you, but I think I'll stick with clocking in my hours. Sure, even the most straight-laced employers can be agents of the devil, but at least they'll lead a paper trail into hell where, if you're lucky, a union rep just might bail you out. 

Hot Child In the Cinema

Sure, we know that Angela Baker and Jason Voorhees are eternally guarding the sleepaway camp gates, but what about all the other joys of summer? Here’s a roundup of other treats to be enjoyed between June and September, which the Farmer’s Almanac constantly rates as the peak time of year to slaughter young people in cinematic ways. 

Tanning

I’m the kind of pasty white woman who spends an extra $1.50 to raise my SPF to 50, so the very idea of laying encased in an electrified tomb simply to get a little brown is horrifying in itself. Hence, I'll always appreciate the most ingenious death scene of Final Destination 3, in which two sweetly bubblegum airheads meet their end via a poorly designed tanning salon. Plus, it incorporates another staple of July, Slurpee-ish drinks! Double death, double points. 

Carnivals

There’s something incredibly joyful about riding a temporary feris wheel operated by a toothless nomad trying desperately to flirt with underage locals.  Of course, it’s even more fun when such an evening involves homicide. Tobe Hooper’s 1981 The Funhouse is an excellent little slasher that utilizes its carnival setting to kill a few disrespectful teens. That’s right kids: no matter how tempting it may be, spending a night inside a temporary amusement park will run you the risk of being hanged, raped, or mocked by an animatronic fat lady. 

Lazy Days

In between camp and softball practice, my childhood summer was generally spent in a pool, in front of a VCR, or on a bike pretending to sniff out an exciting adventure that often involved Ewoks. Maybe that’s because I grew up in a kinder, simpler time where kids could be kids...as opposed to the sadistic era of poodle skirts, jukeboxes, and Jack Ketchum’s novel turned film, The Girl Next Door. Instead of playing stickball or hiking across town to view a corpse like normal kids, these young Americans of prefer kinky tag, drinking cheap beer with mom, and sexually violating the new girl in town. Sure, they occasionally celebrate hot weather with an ice pop or betting on red vs. black ant wars, but this is one neighborhood that needs to hall its delinquents to the teenage wasteland of  Sleepaway Camp III.

School’s Out

As Tiny Tim once said, the true meaning of summer is not having to go to school. Sadly this thrill wears away when you join the typical workforce, but thankfully, we’ll always have horror films that cast well-past-graduation aged actors as horny teenagers without a care in the world come June. The soon-to-finally-be-released-and-seen-by-every-American-horror-fan-complaining-about-the-lack-of-good-original-movies All the Boys Love Mandy Lane captures this hedonistic innocence by driving a group of pretty high school juniors to a sprawling ranch for a start-of-summer party. Once there, the boys plot to woo the titular beauty while the girls judge each others’ appearances and ...well, I’ll say no more for fear of spoilage. But lots of stuff happens, none of which involves friendship circles or marshmallows.

Ring Ring

What’s that sound? A mobile merry-go-round? A really loud music box? \nGoodness no! It’s the Good Humor Man! Or the creepy, inexplicably living creature with a head that somehow stays solid under the summer sun, Mr. Softee! Or--wait. This guy looks different. A little short. A tad ratty. Familiar in a character actor sort of way. \n\nBecause, of course, it’s none other than Clint Howard playing the world’s most evil purveyor of dairy delights. Sure, Masters of Horror’s We All Scream For Ice Cream gave this summer staple a nice follow up, but it’s the lesser Howard Brother’s star turn that truly made ice cream trucks vehicles to fear. Or find mildly revolting and extremely hilarious. Either way, this is the film that clinched Howard’s MTV Lifetime Achievement Award, so you know it has to be brilliant. And it is.

I’m skipping the beach because a) I burn easily and b) I simply refuse to mention the most mentioned summer horror classic in this column. Oh fine: Jaws IV: The Revenge is by far the best film to ever unit sand, sharks, and Mario Von Peebles. Happy now?

Potato Sack Slaughter

I’m not a spiritual person, but if there’s one thing I firmly believe, it’s that every holiday--whether it be national, religious, historical, or commercial--deserves its own horror film. Nary an Xmas has passed in my life without a hot chocolaty viewing of Jack Frost or any of the Silent Night Deadly Night films (part 2 is my favorite, since it’s really two-for-the-price-of-one in flashbacks PLUS Garbage Day, my favorite non-holiday holiday). While I’m still waiting for a Severance-like take on Secretary Appreciation Day, it does bring me patriotic pleasure to report back from the Larry Cohen penned, William Lustig directed 1997 Uncle Sam.


In case the holographic cover art didn’t give it away, this is no Saving Private Ryan. If anything, Uncle Sam is like the grouchy old guy at the family reunion who sits in the corner and complains about kids today. Then he shoves garden shears into their eye sockets.


Quick Plot: When the news of Sergeant Sam Harper’s Desert Storm death reaches his sunny hometown, most of his family and those that knew the violent soldier with a mean sadistic streak are relieved. The exception is his America, Fuck Yeah nephew Jodi, a young boy seemingly poised to follow in Sam’s army booted footprints.


Of course, Sam isn’t quite dead (although that doesn’t stop the military from leaving his coffin in the widow’s living room, blocking the television and probably making dinner parties a tad awkward). All it takes is one gang of teens and their darned flag-burning ways to raise his rotting corpse from the dead. Before you can say George Washington, our undead soldier has commandeered a red, white, and blue Sam-suit from a peeping tom to bring back patriotism and slaughter those who stand in its way.

Draft dodgers, corrupt politicians, and even recreational drug users, be warned. This is not the kindly Uncle Sam that made you feel special by pointing in your face and demanding you die for the United States. Like some sort of distant relative to Angela Baker, this Uncle Sam wants to dispose of any and every citizen unworthy of celebrating July 4th with illegal fireworks or the apparently very complicated Star Spangled Banner. What Sleepaway Camp did for summer, Uncle Sam does for Independence Day.


Which basically means makes a fairly unscary, occasionally funny 88 minute movie that’s generally forgettable save for one major conceit (SC’s shocking WTF finale and the very presence of a homicidal undead Uncle Sam).


High Points
Sure, most of the deaths are predictable, but I’m not complaining when a flagpole is utilized in not one but two fairly deserved kills

A brief conversation about the human Sam’s brutal nature hints at a darker and almost intriguing aspect to the rather one-dimensional villain


Low Points
As direct-to-DVD (or video, as this was probably one of the last VHS stalwarts) horror goes, Uncle Sam is well made enough, but that doesn’t hold up when a name like Larry Cohen is attached. While there may be some underlying themes about U.S. military violence, the deeper intelligence of films like It’s Alive and The Stuff is nowhere to be found


The supporting cast is well-stocked with names like P.J. Soles, Isaac Hayes, and Robert Forster, but no one gets much of anything to do that’s worthy of their thespian or personality skills. The exception? Timothy Bottoms, the former Bush of That’s My Bush!, with an, in hindsight, ironic role as a former hippie-turned-unpopular schoolteacher

Lessons Learned
Playing with fireworks will blind, scar, and cripple you; other side effects include inspiring your mother to dress like Miss Piggy attending a 1950s tea party

Nobody can sing the national anthem without making a mistake


When mapping out the route for a potato sack race, locating the final bend around a steep cliff is probably not the best idea


Rent/Bury/Buy
Though it features a fallen soldier, Uncle Sam ain’t Martyrs. This is a breezily goofy B-horror that flies by without offensiveness. It doesn’t have the super creative charm of, say, Killer Klowns From Outer Space, but from its behind the scenes pedigree to the finished product, it’s more watchable than other fare like Rumplestiltskin or your average backyard filmed zombie flick. The DVD includes not one but two commentaries, with discussions by Hayes, Lustig, and the always entertaining Cohen. If you enjoy cheesily slick, nowhere near scary horror, then Uncle Sam is worth a guilt-free rental but it will most likely leave a less lasting impression than a temporary tattoo forced onto you by a five-year-old at a family barbeque or the hangover you woke up with July 5th.

Kumbay-Killer, Retro Style

Return To Sleepaway Camp is made for one audience and one audience only: nostalgic and forgiving fans of the 1983 original. Like that odd little horror and its cheerfully bad sequels, this 2008 entry has no real scares or intentionally witty humor. This is a cheap and affectionate homage to an infamous--if not especially good--low budget semi-classic of yore.


Quick Plot: Welcome to Camp Manadake, a summer getaway for incredibly obnoxious teenagers and run by mostly child-hating counselors. Our (cough cough) protagonist is husky frog-friending Alan, an understandably outcasted camper who is basically the boy that wouldn’t take a shower from Wet Hot American Summer, all awkwardly grown up. Poor Alan huffs his way through seemingly unsupervised days of croquet as slowly---verrrrrrrry slowly---some of his tormentors are killed through Saw-lite methods of murder. Camp director Vincent Pastore (his acting improving only an appetizer’s portion of antipasto since Black Roses) and junior partner Paul DeAngelo (whose thespian powers have been frozen in the 80s) fret about lost camp tuition and the possible return of Angela Baker, the transgendered murderess who wields a mean curling iron and even meaner guitar.

This is a movie that brewed in production purgatory for some time, and while it’s nice to have a genuine throwback horror, Return To Sleepaway Camp is also a reminder as to why some films die quick deaths (unlike the cast members, who suffer prolonged and elaborate torture that take too long to get to and even longer to end). From the nasty characters to the juvenile jokes, there’s simply too much to dislike in RtSC to really enjoy it. The spirit is admirable; the experience is not.


High Points
The nods to earlier films are gleefully deliberate (The Return of Ronnie’s Short Shorts!) and perhaps serendipitously accidental, like the police chief’s prosthetic nose and its resemblence to Part 1’s magic marker mustache

Because you don’t like one single character, rooting for all their deaths is quite easy


Low Points
Because you don’t like one single character, sitting through their dialogue is painful

Yes, it’s cute to have Isaac Hayes play a chef named Chef, but is that the end of the joke?


With few exceptions, every death takes about six times as long as it should. There’s no reason for this film to be 100+ minutes. But it is. And it feels like eternity.

Lessons Learned
Organized paintball has the potential to be amazinglly awesome. Can I watch that movie instead?


Rats chew fast


It’s really hard to get kicked out of camp nowadays

Rent/Bury/Buy
If you haven’t seen or never cared for the Sleepaway Camp franchise, avoid this film like a campfire sing-a-long. It’s simply not good. Loyal fans of Angela’s zany adventures will definitely want to check out the newest generation and many may find it to be fun. It’s goofy and stupid--just like Parts I-III. Enter at your own risk.


Despite my valiant efforts (okay, two rounds of Googling) I failed to find an adequate picture of DeAngelo's gams or 1983's artificial mustache. However, since Amityville II's review birthed quite the 'stache admiration society, I figured I'd include a nod to my personal favorite finely crafted whiskers of the 80s:

Keith almost makes me want to embrace a caterpillar. Almost.