Showing posts with label Graham Skipper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Graham Skipper. Show all posts
Sunday, February 2, 2020
BLISS (2019) Blu-ray Review
Bliss (2019) d. Joe Begos (USA) (80 min)
Unable to finish her newest commissioned work, struggling visual artist, Dezzy (Dora Madison) looks to reignite her creative juices by boozing, swearing, and snorting her way through every house party and metal bar she can find. After a few nights in the company of her friends (and sometimes lovers) Courtney (Tru Collins) and Ronnie (Rhys Wakefield), Dezzy is finally painting again, but she also finds herself hooked on a new blend of sniffable narcotics and developing a strange desire for… blood.
Thursday, October 31, 2019
THE MIND'S EYE (2015) Blu-ray Review
Scare-A-Thon Totals to Date:
Total Movies Watched: 29
Total First Time Views: 15
Amount raised for AMAZON WATCH: $2,400.04
The Mind’s Eye (2015) d. Joe Begos (USA) (87 min) (1st viewing)
It’s easy to dismiss and/or diminish writer/director Begos’ second feature merely as “a Scanners rip-off,” but it’s worth remembering that David Cronenberg did not invent the notion of a telekinetic monster (Carrie), nor the idea of an evil organization weaponizing such paranormal abilities nor even the spectacle of exploding body parts onscreen (The Fury did both three years earlier). As such, it seems a bit unfair not to at least acknowledge that Begos is doing quite a lot with a little (as was the case with his debut, Almost Human) and that his film does exactly what it sets out to do, which is to pay homage to what has gone before and tell his own version of the story. I don’t have a problem with that, and I’m a little surprised how many armchair critics have taken the film to task for its “lack of originality” when the horror genre is built upon endlessly recycled ideas and concepts.
Sunday, June 30, 2019
CINEPOCALYPSE 2019 RECAP!!! (Part 2 of 4)
This summer in Chicago has been exceedingly damp, with thunderstorms nearly every single day. Saturday proved to be no exception and while the forecast stated that morning skies would be clear, I was not five minutes into my 15-minute bike ride to the Music Box Theatre before the clouds opened up and dumped about 9,000 gallons of water onto your humble narrator. While it was a soggy and chilly (the air conditioning was turned way up, although they managed to make things slightly less meat locker-ish for the remainder of the festival) day of viewing, spirits were high and the programming was tight.
Thursday, December 13, 2018
ALL THE CREATURES WERE STIRRING (2018) DVD review
All the Creatures Were Stirring (2018) d. David Ian McKendry / Rebekah McKendry (USA)
While several horror anthologies have incorporated a single Christmastime story (1945’s Dead of Night, 1972’s Tales from the Crypt, to mention some of the classics) into the mix, there are precious few compendiums whose energies are directed exclusively toward celebrating the Santa season. (In fact, until 2015’s A Christmas Horror Story, there were exactly zero.) But the husband-and-wife team of David Ian and Rebekah McKendry (the latter being a longtime Fangoria alum, horror journalist, and Shock Waves podcaster) have arrived just in time to fill the shocking stockings and change the stats STAT with their quintet of deadly and droll hors d’ouevres, all present-ed within a snappy wrapping, er, wraparound.
Friday, October 20, 2017
BEYOND THE GATES (2016) Blu-ray review
Beyond the Gates (2016) d. Stewart, Jackson (USA) (1st viewing) 82 min
When their video store-owning father goes missing, two brothers (Graham Skipper, Chase Williamson) are tasked with handling his affairs. Amidst the clutter, they come across a strange relic from the 1980s in the form of an old board game that uses a VHS tape to provide cues and moves. Upon popping it into the ancient player, a strange onscreen hostess (Barbara Crampton) begins to dictate commands that feel a little too organic to be pre-recorded. Soon they, along with the elder brother’s girlfriend (Brea Grant), are sucked into another dimension where the line between reality and nightmare becomes as blurry and fuzzy as the old-school 1/2" magnetic tape itself.
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