House (Not the show. DEAR GOD, NOT THE SHOW)

This is not a writeup about the show House, where a snarky doctor pops Vicodin and solves medical mysteries. If that’s what you’re looking for, turn back now. This has nothing to do with that show, and never will. There are no similarities, except for maybe that some of the actors are male.

There are lots of movies out there about haunted houses and people getting trapped in them. Or people spending the night in one and then getting trapped in them. Or people going to a house because they’re lost/car’s broken/think it’s a nice hotel and then get trapped in it. It’s a familiar story, and it can be said that it’s a little played out. But then, you could really say that about every movie out there, couldn’t you? All stories have already been told, it’s the way in which they’re done that we should be looking at.

And by god.

I think I originally began to watch this because I thought it would be crap, and maybe it would help me fall asleep. Michael Madsen was obviously another pull. He’s okay in my book. But it’s very likely that I didn’t really have much hope, though I swear to you now that I recall no such thoughts happening.

Mostly because this movie just blew all such thoughts right out of my pretty little brain. Then said brain was splattered against the wall.

This is, apparently, also a book. Which I’m going to have to seek out. Because wow. If this is what I get from the movie, I can only imagine what I’ll get from the book (*knock wood* please, don’t jinx me, please don’t let me be wrong, please don’t let it be horrible since I opened my damned fool mouth).

This doesn’t just get you through plain old every day fear, either. This really fucks with you all over the place. It’s like it had a party in your brain with Motley Crew and Guns ‘N’ Roses and didn’t tell you. It also didn’t tell you that it invited some heroin junkies and gave you some acid in your sandwich. Every single angle, this thing is coming at you. I loved it.

I think that more horror should be all encompassing, instead of just focusing on the physical horror or the psychological horror. Combining it can make some very beautiful music. Haunting, melodic music carrying a chainsaw. Oh, I know it can go the other way, too. I’ve seen it happen. I’m not an idiot. But more should at least try. If we do not try, we do not learn.

We can take notes from this movie, and spread them all over the place, and hope that little baby movies with this much intensity are born. Or something.

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German Serial Killers – Antibodies

I wonder, really wonder, why there aren’t more movies like this accessible to hands like mine. Really, really wonder. I’m a girl who really enjoys things like horror, murder, serial killers, psychological rapings. Yet, somehow, the films made my Germans which encompass said themes aren’t just… added into my Netflix queue by magic. This is actually the first one that has even been in the “You Might Like This Because…” area.

Holy shit, what an excellent mindfuck. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. They didn’t pull back on anything. Anything. If they did, I’m actually a little stunned. If there are cut scenes more graphic and brutal than the scenes that actually made it into this film? I’m sure they’ve been set on fire. And if they weren’t set on fire, I hope to god they’re on the dvd, because I’m buying it as soon as I can.

Two things I should note:

1. Hearing Mass said in German is pretty fucking hilarious. It sounds so musical in Latin, and yet so harsh and abraiding in German. It was like being scolded the entire time.

2. You cannot say something is starring Norman Reedus if Norman Reedus dies in the first 10 minutes.

L.A. Confidential

How in the sake of fuck did this book get translated into a movie? No no, don’t get me wrong. I adored the book. I like all of his writing. But what rocket scientist did they find to make this into a movie script? It’s just so … freaking… I don’t even know. It’s so complicated and involved.

However it happened, I’ve got the movie on my Netflix queue. I think I’ll move it to the top to ease my curiosity. Plus, apparently it’s got Kevin Spacey in it, and I adore him.

The back of the book has the best way to describe the style of this book: Noir written in shorthand.

I’ve been trying to explain to people how it reads by using the words “razor blades” “quick” and “jagged”. Nobody quite gets what I’m saying though, so I think I’ll resort to the reviewer’s explanation.

By the way, no matter how smart you think you are, the ending will fuck you up.

Transitions

When you’ve finished reading one thing, a lot of people don’t even think before picking up the next book and beginning it. I think this might be why some obviously intelligent people detest some obviously amazing work.

It’s because there are some authors you can jump between with no issue, and there are some that shouldn’t even be attempted. The authors I will use in my examples are Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Charlaine Harris, James Ellroy, Bret Easton Ellis, and Chuck Palahniuk (here we get the most dramatic effect)

Going from Koontz to King is an easy jump. Back is also not an issue. But Koontz to Harris is not a good one to try, and Harris to King will fuck your brain sideways. Harris to Palahniuk would go smoothly, but I don’t think I’d try to reverse that, ever. Palahniuk followed by Ellis would be a smooth transition, as would Ellis into Ellroy. They’ve got that kind of disjointed, raw thinking style, and while Palahniuk doesn’t do that, he’s gritty and raw enough in other ares to keep up. Your head might explode if you went Ellroy to Harris, and especially if you went Ellis to Harris, however, and I can’t think of a good reason to do that sort of thing.

I have just discovered, through actions taken by me in life, that finishing a novel by King and immediately picking one up by Ellroy is not the smartest thing in the world to do. Muscle relaxers and pain killers did not help this in any way, but I don’t think it would have been an easy transition to make even without the help of narcotics.

Moving from a novel of fluid and heavy handed explanation that paints a picture even a blind person could imagine, to a novel of abrupt ends and a serrated edge was like a slap in the face with a block of ice.

I can’t really think of anything that would have made it easier other than just waiting until morning to start the new book. Give my brain some time to digest King’s work and then slowly consuming Ellroy’s.

Slipstream – Again

In my last post I wrote out the words “I can’t believe I’m not even on cold medicine yet.” The key word there being yet. When it kicked in, I had to stop this movie, because… well. Many reasons. You don’t really need to be high in any way to feel like Anthony Hopkins is fucking with your head, and it also became slightly confusing to my eyes, so many flashing scenes, it was hard for my eyes to focus.

There are three main pieces of advice I feel the need to give out here before I continue.

1. If you don’t like surrealism, you have no business watching this movie. If you do watch it, being not a fan of the surrealist movement, and discover yourself angered or otherwise unhappy with your viewing time, it’s your own goddamned fault. If you do not like/adamantly hate a particular genre, don’t watch said genre, because you’re not going to enjoy yourself. It’s pretty simple.

2. Do not take cold medicine to watch this movie.

3. Watch it all at once. The experience will be much more fulfilling for you.

I, myself, am a very large fan of surrealism. Of course, I had no idea that’s what I was getting into when I clicked on the play button in Netflix. I mainly did it because I saw the words “Written and directed by Anthony Hopkins”. I’m a very very big fan of his, so I couldn’t really pass it up.

The problem I’m finding with Netflix is that the descriptions don’t really fit or tell you what’s truly going to happen in the movie you’re about to watch. I discovered this huge flaw for the first time (the first time rather glaringly, I should say) when I watched Decent. You know, that one with Rosario Dawson and rape? That was not fully explained in the description. It didn’t even hint at what the ending was going to be like, and I sort of feel like it should have.
In this case, nobody saw fit to mention that there would be heavy surrealism going on. Not that I feel the need to be forewarned about that every time, but it’d be nice to know I should wait to take my cold medication until I’m done with the movie.

I find myself making comparisons to the movie Stay now that I’ve watched all of Slipstream. There are some very clear similarities, though things are done in a different way. Two different stories using similar keys in them.
I really liked Stay, a lot. A lot a lot. I don’t have a good enough vocabulary to fully expound on how much I adore Stay. Naturally I’m having similar feelings to this movie.

I love things that make me think. Really love them. I love things that are fucked up. I love surrealism. I love Anthony Hopkins. There really wasn’t a single part of this movie I didn’t love. Everything was done so beautifully.

Anthony Hopkins has a wonderfully visual mind. You get the impression that he’s extremely intelligent just from any brief TMZ encounter with him, you know that he’s a good actor. But you don’t really get a good look inside of his head. With this movie, I feel like he opens himself up and shows you a glimpse of what he’s capable of. Really capable of. Just a tiny little look that leaves the impression that if he were given the reins of the world, nothing would ever be the same.

One further thing I feel I have to make note of, not that it really has to do with the movie itself or Anthony Hopkins, is the fact that for the past few days, every movie I have decided to watch has had Michael Clark Duncan in it. I’m unsure if this is a Universe Note or what, but it’s been pretty strange.

This movie is definitely not for everyone. I’m not going to tell everyone to rush out and find it as soon as possible as I do with other films. But I am going to say that I enjoyed it 100%, and I would like Anthony Hopkins to do more of this kind of thing.

Please.

Pretty please.

Pretty please with fava beans on top.