kensirhan-86198

Yet another in rare company of persons, characters, books or films that scrape my nerves from the gate so bad that either must needs bail from any proximity thereto and/or Never To Return. In the case of this wannabe thriller, it has *2* such characters that put me in That I Could Not Stand (anymore)! Mode, which "one may presume" (Who Is Killing The Great Chefs Of Europe (1978), 1 of only 2 movies (A Simple Plan (1998) I have found whose filmed versions did their source material the greatest favor) were picked for their roles as being The Perfect Choice(s), which they delivered the "bads" so effectively that barely ½ an hour elapsed before I went into Lolobrickida mode (as above) & left those 2 intolerable performances wheels up in the ditch. 1st off the plate is the antagonist brat boy who wore out his welcome with me faster than with the unwitting couple moved into his grandpa's house, & the other being the male of the couple, whose short supply of spine ("other parts" could apply as well), which his non-Angel Soft waffling dismissal of his lady's concerns is what finally drove me to change the channel. But that gritted teeth overacting guy playing the baby psycho - who can only wish he had the exterior deceptive looks of (way too) many real monstrosities - already had me 7/8ths over my line of tolerance before then; has this been a real circumstance I was facing, his overbearing intrusiveness would've been stomped flatter than an original Hardee's horseburger Real Quick! There wasn't, to the point where like in that horrid book A Simple Plan I literally hurled in the trash after barely a hundred pages, a single redeeming personality other than the lady tenant to even remotely latch onto to root for. Everybody else was variously annoying, irritating & infuriating - especially that brat boy who, the director's fault as with G. Lou Kiss & that wretched Barf Wars trilogy ('99-'05), projected about as much real menace (!) as a bowl of dry cereal. Maybe things manage to take a turn for the intended "worse" after the point where I kicked it past the curb, but that loud screeching sniveling whiner with a role in Superboy ('15) on his résumé - ooh the chills I got just reading that make a space heater jealous! - has a LONG way to go to achieve that kind of convincing depth. Perhaps someday - though not "soon" as Janet Jackson once crooned it - I might just go back to pick it back up from its deserved place in that nice swampy ditch I left it in, for curiosity sake as to how it ends. I sure do hope it's as I'd like! But clearly I'm going to need some stronger Liquid Refreshment than "diet beer" (as in l-i-t-e spells that) to attend it; if that boy doesn't manage to conjure up some real Frighty Night scares to offset his exaggerated grimacing & shrieking that to that point convey nothing of the sort, I'll have some invective for him that will do lots better! Yet another in rare company of persons, characters, books or films that scrape my nerves from the gate so bad that either must needs bail from any proximity thereto and/or Never To Return. In the case of this wannabe thriller, it has *2* such characters that put me in That I Could Not Stand (anymore)! Mode, which "one may presume" (Who Is Killing The Great Chefs Of Europe (1978), 1 of only 2 movies (A Simple Plan (1998) I have found whose filmed versions did their source material the greatest favor) were picked for their roles as being The Perfect Choice(s), which they delivered the "bads" so effectively that barely ½ an hour elapsed before I went into Lolobrickida mode (as above) & left those 2 intolerable performances wheels up in the ditch. 1st off the plate is the antagonist brat boy who wore out his welcome with me faster than with the unwitting couple moved into his grandpa's house, & the other being the male of the couple, whose short supply of spine ("other parts" could apply as well), which his non-Angel Soft waffling dismissal of his lady's concerns is what finally drove me to change the channel. But that gritted teeth overacting guy playing the baby psycho - who can only wish he had the exterior deceptive looks of (way too) many real monstrosities - already had me 7/8ths over my line of tolerance before then; has this been a real circumstance I was facing, his overbearing intrusiveness would've been stomped flatter than an original Hardee's horseburger Real Quick! There wasn't, to the point where like in that horrid book A Simple Plan I literally hurled in the trash after barely a hundred pages, a single redeeming personality other than the lady tenant to even remotely latch onto to root for. Everybody else was variously annoying, irritating & infuriating - especially that brat boy who, the director's fault as with G. Lou Kiss & that wretched Barf Wars trilogy ('99-'05), projected about as much real menace (!) as a bowl of dry cereal. Maybe things manage to take a turn for the intended "worse" after the point where I kicked it past the curb, but that loud screeching sniveling whiner with a role in Superboy ('15) on his résumé - ooh the chills I got just reading that make a space heater jealous! - has a LONG way to go to achieve that kind of convincing depth. Perhaps someday - though not "soon" as Janet Jackson once crooned it - I might just go back to pick it back up from its deserved place in that nice swampy ditch I left it in, for curiosity sake as to how it ends. I sure do hope it's as I'd like! But clearly I'm going to need some stronger Liquid Refreshment than "diet beer" (as in l-i-t-e spells that) to attend it; if that boy doesn't manage to conjure up some real Frighty Night scares to offset his exaggerated grimacing & shrieking that to that point convey nothing of the sort, I'll have some invective for him that will do lots better!

This originally was a sleepless middle of the night accidental discovery, which knowing before of Luke Perry but not Miss Ashley, I decided to give it a spin. I had to See It Again on a subsequent cable airing because My First Sight (Mr. Spock, of Dr. McCoy) of Luke was an instant drop into Pepe le Pew territory, & my Tasmanian Devilish eyepopped jawdropped panting & whooping did not permit a more absorbed study of the proceedings! This situation though was markedly dampened by Miss Ashley, who impressed me as ill-fitting the role; her screechy "plasticine" superficial performance - the result of too many takes? - clashed sharply with that of Luke, who along with his "seasoned" looks past The Hills Of Beverly days (that stache & his furrowed forehead over top of his expressive eyes had me in Tongue Hanging Out A Foot! Mode) was of a more "convincing" stance; only his inescapable interactions with the lady & her wince-inducing presentation diminished that literally "twisting the night away" response. The alleged Love Scenes had less depth than a cracked kiddie pool, the 2 of them evincing as much chemistry as oil & water. Let's hear it for the dog, though of aggravatingly small appearance. With other sources having praised her here as "her best performance to date," this impression comes off as being of somewhat desperate tone to find at least something to thumbs up about her. But having seen none of whatever she had performed in hitherto, or afterwards, if that is the case, then she's clearly skated by on whatever "looks" she possesses, because to me she didn't have as much of the unfortunate "strained" quality poor Chris Farley brought in his sadly failed attempts to duplicate Belushi (their horrendous "twin" deaths don't count), but it was not until approaching the end of their line that Miss Ashley quit scene ripping, yelling & thrashing about in a vain effort to convey the "dislocation" of her character's miserable drugged out existence (having witnessed literally across the street from me years ago the spiral of 2 brothers from promising, despite their "rockhound" ways which I tried to help them escape, to dug-in superglued slavitude that landed them both behind bars, in the short space of 3 years, I know whereof that unfortunately goes), & to me really got some meat on her bones of projecting what that was supposed to be. Too little too late in that regard, though I was moved to misty-eyed sadness at the concluding Terrible Waste of their lives, both acted & in actuality. Still, despite its drawbacks it is even 3 decades later an effective object lesson for those can both use & heed it - since that will be something that will ever be a problem as long as Terran humanoids inhabit they are likewise wasting.

I was preparing to drop a bombshell Goofs entry on this retelling of that nightmarish Knoxville horror show & its unjust aftermath (1 result though was inaccurately misrepresented) when the teeny little bit of Small But Rather Valuable information (re: the 2nd victim of these Devil's septic tank savages) that had hitherto gone unmentioned did pop up. I happened to have on at random a stream-a-thon of this unknown show while conducting file maintenance, & having been left quaking with queasy disgust & vengeance-soaked heartache by a previously aired ... some other program, the name of this individual crossed my notice & sat me upright with renewing fury. The results being only half the running time of the original terrifying installment that seared my senses months ago - which itself is an injustice - certain relevant information was disappointingly left out. Even so, what was presented did well enough, of notice being the aforetime high-pitched Hortense "shrink" who scraped my nerves plenty of times on the old Maurypovich show - a "Dr. Jeff" something or other - was here of greatly appreciated less so, even "muted" As It Might Be, appropriately so given the widely disparate topic under discussion here. The other interviewees were also thankfully not given to orgiastic demonstrations of Runaway Train body language or strained/forced vocals so common in crime recountings (some "(loud)mouthed" jerk called "phelps" very irritatingly featured in several other series just Runneth Over with more than enough such crap to do for dozens). Also such location shots as are provided, though not exactly "bountiful," still lend a level of care & authenticity to the proceedings that may not be universally anticipated. I bailed out before the 2nd segment, needing a fortifying pit stop after this 1, & will consider anymore of them later since there's 131 episodes by this information & plenty of unfamiliar monikers therein. It's no Fred Flintstone style Delight To The Eye, but certainly gives the idea of imparting details on littler-known cases.

As well as a heartfelt M. T. R. E. I. P. to this young couple who were suddenly hurled into a retention pond sized vat of unspeakable violence & cruelty, with hopes for their families' healing, "a word of caution" to all who've viewed either version (or both) of this sickening scenario: *please* keep your eyes, ears & noses on as much alert as possible, & comprehensive camera coverage no farther than #3 on the list. Whatever *these* objects were, though the majority escaped without an appointment avec the king's axeman, we & the people left behind in brokenhearted anguish should take some comfort in the knowledge that there's 10 warmly hot places (5 apiece for each victim) waiting to receive the rotten lot of em - just not fast enough.