The Last House on the Left (1972)

To avoid fainting, keep repeating "It's only a movie...It's only a movie..."

It seems to be 70s time these days - Rabid was from 1977, Shock Waves from 1977 as well, and The Last House on the Left is from 1972.

The first things I noticed was the soundtrack. It's very ...70s like. Jazzy. Snazzy. You can just feel the summers of love, and can smell the weed (well, that might just be me) pervading the air. Girls are not wearing a bra, Daddy remarks upon his little girl's nipples, gives her a little gift (see below, maybe to enhance the nipples)... and one o those girls, namely one of our initial protagonist, is going to a concert to visit a gig by a band that dismembers live chickens on stage. Want to see them live.




She and another female friend of hers have no intention to go to that concert, though - they are sitting outside together, exploring the wild, drinking whisky, laughing, having fun. On their way in their car to... somewhere else... they hear of a group of escapees of violent rapists and murderers.




Cut to the violent rapists and murderers - a quite nice group of young men and one woman, whose habits include drinking, smoking, possibly listening to wild music and misbehaving.




The paths of our two parties cross when the two girls meet the youngest of the bunch, as they approach him for weed... and he takes them with him, to get some Columbian Gold. However, things don't go as they are planned.

I find this scene strangely erotic.

Meanwhile, we learn that tomorrow, one of the girls would have her birthday, and the parents are busy preparing the gifts and cake for Mari (their daughter).





Who is, in the meantime, watching helplessly as her friend gets raped.

Next day - Mari's birthday - we can see her being carried out of the flat in which she and her friend found themselves, thrown into the trunk of a car ("right on top of your friend!"), whilst the gang of misfits drives somewhere else - with their car breaking down in front of Mari's place. They take her out of the trunk, down into the dense woods. The police decides to not see the car (could cause problems, you know)... good old law enforcement. You can always rely on them.




It's suspenseful to watch the girls trying to escape from the group of violent fugitives - engaging. Something that this movie has in abundance and which new movies from the US lack is suspense. You never quite know what will happen next, the plot isn't so watered down that you could as well have none, and the plot we do have is simple, straightforward and believable. There's nothing fancy about this movie. And I mean that quite literal. Besides for the beginning, with Mari an her friend drinking and enjoying themselves, every minute of this movie is bleak and mercilessly realistic. Me like.




There's also a constant comical element contained within the movie in the form of the incompetent policemen.

Things start to turn weir when the brutes, who killed Phyllis as well as Mari, show up at the house of Mari's parents. They behave a little bit suspiciously. Junior, the youngest member of the gang and a heroin addict, has nightmares in his withdrawal symptoms about letting the gang shoot Phyllis and kill Mari. Whilst throwing up, Mari's mother hears him, comes to help him to his bed... and notices that the gift her husband gave to Mari looks the same as the chain that Junior/Willow is wearing around his neck. Suspicious, she opens one of the bags of the gang... and finds the bloodied clothes of her daughter. A plan begins to form.




One hell of a bloody plan.


All in all, a pretty enjoyable movie with a satisfying plot, satisfying violence, realistic behaviour, and it looks pretty good for 1972.


7.85/10 things that aren't too little, just afraid *grins*

Jaws (1975)

A group of hippies is hanging out on the beach, gathered around a bonfire, having a good time. Two of them run off to go swimming in the ocean - actually, a girl runs off to do so, and a guy tries to follow her. But man, is he stoned, and he decides to lie down on the beach during this lovely nightfall. The sun is nearly down, and he falls asleep, whilst the young lady is swimming in the fresh, wonderful water.

Silence...

...but something deadly is coming, closing in from under the water.

And the silence is broken by screams.

Jaws starts out promising. Shame on me, for I have never watched the movie in my whole life. But it already fills me with a sense of nostalgia for those good old times - back then when there were still hippies, when smoking was okay in a movie and didn't automatically make you the main-villain, when people could have a drink. Good old times - with that wonderful 70s hair-do.

No, that's not what I meant by "70s hair-do".

The new Chief (from New York), Martin Brody (played by Roy Scheider) suspects a shark attack after the mangled body of the girl I mentioned above are found and wants to close the beach; but this idea is met with resistance from the town's mayor, Larry Vaughn (Murray Hamilton), as Amity Island is dependent on the summer tourist season - and reports of shark attacks would devastate this much needed income.




After a boy of about 8 is eaten by the shark, Vaughn is convinced, and the beach is closed.

The mourning parents.

The dead child's mother places a bounty on the beast, which suddenly makes shark-hunting a very popular pastime for a lot of brave, courageous men - from all over the States. One of them is Quint (Robert Shaw) - a hardened and seasoned veteran of shark-hunting - with his boat, the Orca.




Meanwile, the marine biologist Matt Hooper arrives in Amity. After having a look at the remains of the victims, he is convinced that the shark responsible for the attacks is a Great White - and, judging from the bite marks, it's a GIANT.

It's a shark!

A big one, even!

...but it's not the shark that attacked and killed the victims - the bite marks are different.


After cutting open the shark that has been caught (and of course, everyone thinks that it's the shark responsible for the attacks, for Raptor Jesus knows that there is only one shark in the ocean), they find out that the animal's intestines hold fish and garbage, but no human remains.

Rummaging around in the gastro-intestinal tract.

A Great White (Carcharodon carcharias) is responsible for the kills - and still, Vaughn intends to open the beaches on July 4th, as he is sure that there is no problem whatsoever left - now that "the shark" has been caught and killed. This is a disaster waiting to happen... for there still lurks the perfect killing machine.

This is what a shark can do to you when he's test-biting you to see if you're tasty.

And this topic also makes for great dinner conversations!

Gods. I've always loved sharks. They are wonderful, fascinatingly beautiful animals. I stand in awe before them - they are evolutionary perfect. Praise the sharks. Underwater-creatures generally make me happy (although I admit to being partial to deep-sea monsters - they are pretty, awesome, nifty and just adorably cute, with those big eyes and big teeth... *wants to cuddle them all*), and sharks are something that makes me more happy than your average fish. They are just... perfect. I admit it, I stand in awe before the Selachimorpha, the most successful predators from the Ordovician on. *happy sigh*...

What a wonderful day to be out at sea...

Closing in...

After a prank goes terribly wrong, resulting in the death of one more person by shark (nearly killing Brody's oldest son in the process), the Chief of Police manages to convince the mayor to hire Quint, the professional shark-hunter - because something needs to be done. And so, Brody and the marine biologist with city hands (I'm talking about Hooper here) join the weathered hunter on his boat, the Orca - setting out to kill the man-eater*.

Dead meat.

There's no way around it: Jaws is a superb movie. Usually, I'm not that big a fan of animal flicks, as I've always felt them to be a cheap shot at humanity's fear of creatures it doesn't understand - but Jaws is different. Everything fits - the camerawork comes natural and easy, showing us exactly what we need to see in order for the movie to work.




Steven Spielberg just knows what he is doing, and it clearly shows that this movie is not some horror flick produced and directed by someone with good intentions (or should that be 'bad intentions', considering the usual themes present in horror?) but not the technical abilities to pull it off, but instead a horror movie that has been created by one of the best directors the US of A have produced - and this is definitely one of his best movies.




Another thing I noticed is the timelessness of the movie. Yes, it's from 1975, and usually I am not the biggest fan of 70s movies, either (granted, there are exceptions, but speaking of decades, the 70s just don't make it to my "favourite decades in the world of horror"-list - might just be that I watched the wrong movies as of yet, though... I definitely plan on extending my experience with that time-period!) - but Jaws just ...works. You don't become distracted by what is, for me, a period long gone (I mean sheesh, I wasn't even alive back then) - the plot and the suspense just draw you in.

And the shark... oh Gods. He is beautiful. We never really see him until we're close to the end of the movie, and this technique of only showing us glimpses of the magnificent beast works out really well (better than in Alien in my opinion - which reminds me that I finally need to write that review *sighs*) - and when we get to see it, it truly is majestic. Estimated to be 25 feet long (~ 8 m) and to weigh in at 3 tons... I think I have fallen in love.

The score by John Williams also adds a lot to the experience that is Jaws. It is perfect (and I usually don't easily call a movie soundtrack 'perfect', unless I am absolutely sure and can detect no single instance of it not contributing to the feeling, ood and effect of the movie in question), and combined with the superb acting by all of the actors involved just adds that certain something that marks a hallmark of a movie.




Speaking of the acting... our three leads are flawless. My personal favourite is Richard Dreyfuss in his role as marine biologist Matt Hooper - a rich, well thought-out character that we care for and understand (well, at least I understood the whole "scientists really love their work with something not just bordering on but surpassing obsession"-thing...).
Roy Scheider (as the main character Police Chief Martin Brody) also does a more than good job - his performance is not over the top, but instead has all the marks of a really good, experienced actor. He is nigh perfect in his role.

On a related note - it made me very happy to see that the actor who played the first eaten child, Alex Kintner, has been played by one Jeffrey Voorhees. Yes, I know - it's easy to make me happy.

I guess what really makes this movie what it is is the fact that Spielberg manages to keep a constant tension in the movie. The water becomes something threatening, something we cannot trust any longer - even bright, happy and inconspicuous scenes of people hanging out at the sunlit beach, swimming in the water gain an underlying sense of dread - for we never know when the shark is going to strike again, dragging down his next hapless meal... errr, I meant "the next poor victim".

The water isn't really that appealing anymore...

Subtle dread.

I fully approve of this movie - in fact, I consider it to be Spielberg's best as of now.




And if you're interested in learning more about sharks... Wikipedia is your friend:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shark
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Physical_characteristics_of_sharks
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_great_white_shark


9/10 magnificent apex predators...




*I swear it - I didn't copy Wikipedia. I only noticed the eerie similarity after looking up the details on how much money this blockbuster made back in the days.

The Mist (2007)

The people of a small American town (my guess would be somewhere in Maine) have been beset by a storm. The following day, most of them are in the local mall to stock up on stuff... and that's when it happens.

The Mist...

Spot the Dark Tower reference and the The Thing reference!

There's one problem I have with movies based on Stephen King novels, and that problem are the characters. The characters in the books and stories themselves. Always. The only exception to that rule of thumb are the Gunslinger, his posse (before book 5, that is, and I have to admit to not being particularly partial to Susannah), Randal Flagg... and I guess that's it. When it comes to movies, there are only the Shining TV miniseries and the Salem's Lot TV remake. I can't stand any other King movie I've seen thus far... and even the two I just mentioned have characters that annoy the hell out of me. Mostly children. And... other characters. But as far as Stephen King movies goes, they still are the ones I can endure most.*



However... The Mist is actually, you know... good. I hesitated to watch this one, although it has been on my list for quite a while now. Why? Simply because it's based on a Stephen King story. Granted, I haven't read the story (which is astounding, because I used to live off King's stories between ages 10 and 14... bought every book, read every single one in the two libraries I had access to. Yes, I've changed quite a bit in the years since then...), but the mere mention of Stephen King in the context of a movie is something that instinctively makes me flinch and hide. Because, in my world, "Based on a story by STEPHEN KING" (and variations thereof) does not make a movie good. Usually, it's exactly the opposite.

This, ladies and gentlemen, ghouls and ghosts, is the proverbial exception to the rule of thumb.

We're 12 minutes into the movie, and already, stuff happens.

There is something in the mist...

The Mist doesn't suffer from any of the usual faults I habitually associate with Stephen King movies. It's not slow, it's not drawn out and boring, it's not an abomination unto the eyes of man resp. woman, it isn't on the mental and intellectual level of a retarded 10-year-old.

The acting is really good throughout the movie - even the unlikeable character(s) are portrayed in a way that you forget for the duration of the movie that these are actors, paid to act the way they do. The entire cast, even the people you don't really get to know or who get only a tiny amount of screentime, does its best. And in this rare case, this actually means that it is freakin' awesome. These figures appear as real as any of the people you meet at work... at school... or in the mall. Thumbs up for the cast, definitely.

Which brings me to another point of the movie which I fully appreciate:

Continuing on from my initial paragraph: The Mist (yesh, I'm witty!) has come, and the people are trapped within a store. This situation creates, of course, interesting social tension (as my beloved Dawn of the Dead remake has already brilliantly exemplified). Or should I say social tensionS (plural form)? People in shock, people panicking... religious nutters... And the small-mindedness of common people. I apologise for sounding as if I had a problem with common people in small towns, or their small-mindedness. Or rather, I don't (apologise, that is), because I actually do have a problem with it. But that's neither here nor there.

Sound is used to a devastating effect. It's rare that I am kept on the edge of my seat with goosebumps on my arms and my back whilst watching a movie. It's even more rare that I still feel the same way whilst watching a movie for the second time in a week. Usually, the few scares that actually, you know, scare me in a movie are a one-time-incident. Only a few movies manage to make me feel creeped out when I watch a movie more than once. The Mist is one of them. And that, my faithful readers, is something I appreciate.

Also, the camerawork is solid. It's not art, it's not particularly beautiful, but it's solid and shows us what we need to see and what we expect to see. Although some of the shots are really good. A rope leading into thick mist has never felt threatening before...



And whilst I still stand by my assessment that the shots are nothing that I'd consider to be art, they do create tension. They do create atmosphere. A dark, gritty and - pardon the pun - misty atmosphere. Which is what makes this movie something special. Clean, solid shots alternate with haze-filled ones that convey a bizarre feeling of surreal threat. I fully approve.

The CGI isn't bad either. If you run the movie in a very low FPS rate, you can start criticising, but that's not common movie watching behaviour, so I'm not going to be picky about it. After all, The Mist wasn't created for people trying to get a decent screen of something particularly nasty, but for watching and enjoying it.

And, in order to reiterate myself: The human element. Oh, the human element. A film that features constant portrayals of the fathomless depths that are the conditio humana is just something that the world has needed.

All the small lies, the small, stupid minds, the idiotic thoughts, the distrust, the suspicions, the fear of failure, the pathetic behaviour, the pathetic attempts to cover up one's own mistakes by blaming others for them or claiming to be innocent of any faults... truly, this is humanity. On the other hand, we also get grand, lofty ideas and ideals (yes, there is a difference), simple humans acting better than their peers, true courage and bravery.

And the worst from the depths of the human mind: Religious insanity. The worst kind of losing it there is and was throughout the history of humanity. Pretty much every scholar of history can tell you that organised book-religions, whilst they can bring out the best in a few people, also motivated some of the absolutely worst massacres and atrocities throughout history.

The Mist features a crazy religious nutjob. Fundamentalist crazy religious nutjob. The kind that wants to crush the nonbelievers and starts "holy wars" and sacrifices children to satisfy the bloodlust of their LORD, which is only their own dark side, their own destructiveness searching for a way out - a socially sanctified way. Because, you know - killing people and starting wars and killing children is bad in the eyes of society. As soon as you have some sort of higher entity to refer to, one that is socially acceptable, it all becomes... acceptable. Necessary, even.

Sorry for rambling a bit. I try not to let this review become an outlet for my feelings about Abrahamic religions. If you, dear reader, should believe in YHVH/God/Allah - do as thou wilt shall be the whole of the law. I accept religious beliefs. What I do have a problem with is blind fanaticism.

Okay, ranting mode off.

Back to the mist. And damn, it looks good. I've always loved mist. Mist makes me happy. It covers, it hides. It makes the world more beautiful.

I also want to add that there are tentacles. Tentacles make the cyn happy.

I officially LOVE this mist.

Mist that offers tentacles which eat people is now officially on my top list of cool things that need to happen more often. And I'm not just talking TENTACLES. I am talking AWESOME TENTACLES. Then again, people who know me know that I am particularly fond of anything which is vaguely reminiscent of tentacles. So... tentacles FTW!



And man... the end. Oh my Gods, the end... I loved it. You will love it, too, if you're anything like me. It also includes a Dead Can Dance - song, and as I love this band deeply, I truly appreciated it. Their song makes the end of The Mist all the more... intense. Trust me.


8.75/10 interdimensional, Lovecraftian creatures hiding away in the mist... feeding on humanity...




* Honorable mentions go to The Green Mile for being completely non-Stephen King-like and actually good. But that movie ALSO has characters that annoy the shit out of me.

À l'intérieur / Inside (2007)

Two visits to France taught me something essential: The French suck. Especially French waiters, who despise me because I don't speak French (it's not that I haven't tried, and I still know that 'piscine' means 'swimming pool', but I just don't like the language, and if I don't like a language, I don't want to learn it, and... well, I just refuse to learn French. This is the main reason why you will never see me write a paper about Mari - all the publications are in French, and so I cunningly avoid anything that has to do with Mari... Mari is an old city, for those of you who don't know me well enough to know that as soon as I mention weird names, I'm talking about dead things from Mesopotamia and its surroundings). In turn, I despise them back.

No offense to any French readers. You are awesome.

But my dislike of the French is one of those preconceived notions that you know are wrong, but you hold them anyways - precious little prejudices. Same with my opinion that the US suck. Well, the US do indeed suck (no offense to any patriotic USAnian readers I might have), and whilst the USAnian president is outwitted by a dumb goldfish and lots of the people from there are... well, not exactly the most educated lot, not everyone from the US is stupid. Still, I like to pretend. Same with the French. I know they're not all stupid and despicable villains, but... I like to pretend.

This includes knowing for sure that nothing good can come out of France. Heck, they eat frogs and slugs. What kind of cuisine is that?! What kind of foul creatures do that?! Plus, I am still traumatised when it comes to the issue of baguettes (no, you don't want to know).

However, I have to admit that the French make awesome movies. The Hills Have Eyes as directed by Alexandre Aja already taught me that. Before that, Trouble Every Day (I'll write a review, promised) forced me to acknowledge that the French might have a talent for making movies... and now, Inside finished the transformation: I am now actively looking forward to any horror movie coming out of France. Damn, I am actively SEARCHING THEM OUT! The world will never be the same...

Ever since Inside came out, I read the stunningly positive reviews about it, but never bothered to watch it. After all, it's a French movie, and it's going to be tame. Pretty but tame. I mean... take this premise: It's Christmas, and a pregnant woman who is suppposed to give birth the following day is alone in her house, when another woman (only called "The Woman", brilliant. And I say that without sarcasm) manages to get into her house and makes her life hell.

Sarah is VERY pregnant.

I was expecting something like a psychological thriller, maybe some emotional terror. I was NOT expecting a slaughterhouse full of gore, suspense and truly thrilling moments. Truth be told, I didn't even want to watch it, but the friend whom I mention regularly on this blog wanted to see it, and so I agreed, preparing myself for 82 minutes of boredom.

Let me put it this way: The man who, in a discussion about horror movies, said that the last time he had goosebumps and felt scared during a horror flick was in 1979 now cannot claim that anymore. What happened? Inside happened.

Seriously. Michael, Freddy, Jason - go and stand in the corner and hang your heads in shame. Yes, you too, Pinhead, as much as it pains me to say so.

Inside is easily one of the goriest movies I've ever seen. It is brutally honest with what it shows us (this seems to be a French thing - I already noticed it with Alexandre Aja). The camera voyeuristically sticks to what is happening, devours every single moment with greedy eyes - and makes us accomplices in this violent act of voyeurism. Nothing happens offscreen - we see with merciless clarity. Unlike Insanitarium, this isn't a gorefest, though. We get quality, not quantity. And when I say "quality", I mean "quality of the highest order". Honestly. Viciously good.

Something that automatically makes me happy was that the blood is absolutely realistic. Dreadfully realistic. Don't watch it if you can't stomach the sight of blood. Consider this an official warning. You might also want to reconsider watching this movie with your girlfriend (unless your girlfriend is like me), and I strongly recommend not to watch it with pregnant women.

Ugh. Pregnant. What is it about bloated bellies that makes me squirm uncomfortably? I think it's the whole breeding thing (no offense to people who like pregnant women, pregnancy or the concept of breeding more humans)... there are already enough of us running around, no need to create more of those critters. At this point, I officially want to send my best wishes to Chrisu, who will be sterilised after the next weekend.

Back to the review.

The camerawork is stunning, and so is the use of colour. I swear, the pictures are pure art. The soundtrack also is... words fail me. Classical music, piercing industrial noise that thunders through your mind...

I'll put it simple: This movie is beautiful. Absolutely, stunningly beautiful. And violent... very, very violent. And it remains believable the entire time, from the very second that the merciless brutality starts. Sometimes, you want to look away, but you just can't because you are compelled to watch what unfolds on the screen.

Also, I was very pleased to see Béatrice Dalle in this work of art (calling it a simple horror movie would be severely underrating it). I already liked her in Trouble Every Day, and she has been brilliantly casted for the role of "The Woman".


Speaking of the acting... A+++

A brilliant, stunning movie that will leave you sitting in the dark in silence for a while. Whether you like it or not, it will move you. Take my word for it.

Beautiful.

10/10 creative uses of a pair of scissors

Hellraiser (1987)

"Take it... the box! It's yours! ... ...it always was..."

...and so we are introduced to the main "protagonist" of the first Hellraiser movie - the box.

This is by far the best movie in the franchise - its creativity and uncompromising ...honesty (an honesty of flesh and mind, reflected in the camerawork and the imagery used) mark the, in my opinion, absolute zenith of horror in the 80s - and, mind you, I still think it's one of the masterpieces the genre has produced. There are not a lot of movies, modern or otherwise, who are able to evoke the same feeling as Clive Barker's Hellraiser did and still does.

Speaking of the camerawork and the pictures - beautiful. This is a 1987 movie we are talking about, and the suspense and effects are far better than in most modern horror flicks I've watched (and trust me, it's a lot).

That goes for the gore as well. Hooks lodging themselves in weak, human flesh... chains dangling from the ceiling, pieces of flesh on them, eternally turning, clanging, turning... flesh dripping from those hooks and chains... fingers, tenderly searching through the pieces.

And Pinhead - carressing the puzzle box - using it, so that he and the other Cenobites can use the dead one forever, in order to teach...

Enter Julia and Larry.

Julia and Larry move into his (Larry's) old family's house... which happens to be the place where Frank, Larry's dead brother, opened a gate to hell by means of the puzzle box. What Larry doesn't know, although he suspects his brother (he doesn't know that he's ...somewhere else now) of being a bit of a perverted fucktard, is that his very own wife, Julia, had a heated affair with his own dear brother. And that she still loves the nasty boy that is... was... Frank.

The lighting in the movie is beautiful, as are the pictures and the editing (but I think I already mentioned the pictures... sorry, overwhelmed with joy).



We also get treated to softcore knife play... nice. And although I don't find the actors attractive, it is quite an erotic scene - all the little details, like the 9-inch-nail (a subtle foreshadowing of Pinhead's presence?), the knife, the using of Julia, her submissive behaviour and begging... those are the things that make it erotic. In a very special way, if you get my meaning.

Larry obviously is a wuss. He cuts himself on a nail... and AAAAWWWWWWWWW I AM BLEEDING!
...how terrible.

But the blood, in this instance, is not wasted... not at all. Instead, it is used to free someone - an accursed, damned denizen of the Cenobite's Hell... Frank.


And, as you can see above: The gore is fucking awesome. Remember, this is the 80s we're talking about, and Hellraiser is still one of the goriest movies I can name off the top of my hat. It is just beautiful beyond words. More movies need slime. And slimy things.

The sound effects also are a source of joy... whispering, hollow sounds that seem to speak and may speak but don't, heartbeats... and a soundtrack that just kills you.

And Julia sure is one good girl. A good, devout girl that follows her boyfriend's - (un)dead boyfriend's - every single command.

Like... feeding him with the blood of human victims.

"Will you do it?"

"Yes... I will."

"Good..."

Something that is really striking me is that the scenes depicting Julia more often than not only show her legs - her torso is left completely out of the picture. Is it a fetish thing? Is it some sort of symbolism that explains Julia's heartless nature to us? Is it supposed to show us that she's just an object - an object willingly subjected and devoted to Frank's lusts and desires? I personally favour a combination of the three, and I am sure that there are other interpretations than those that my brain spews forth.

We also get treated to highly surreal but extremely beautiful scenes.

Pretty, isn't it?

Julia on her way to seduce guys... for what reason, you may ask? After all, she is married AND has an (un?)dead lover up in the attic...

Plus, I am sorry to say it, but the whole business-woman look is sort of hot. No, I don't think that Julia, aka Clare Higgins is hot (she is old! She has a weird look! She is... old! She has 80s hair!), but the outfit... erm. Yes. I am going to stop now. Otherwise, this might not be a proper review anymore.

This, dear males, is why you should never trust women who just want to take you home:



Remember: Women can be cruel. Especially when we're in love... and even more so when we're in love with (un?)dead sadomasochistic creatures from hell.



At this point, I want to add that I probably already watched this movie about 20 times, and I still don't know whether to classify Frank as dead or as undead. Well, one consolation - he certainly isn't alive (...or is he?!), so I only have to choose between those two options.



The character I personally dub "Nyarlathotep the Younger"... for various reasons. If you're a fan of Lovecraft (as you SHOULD be), you'll probably understand why after watching the movie and... well, knowing about Nyarlathotep.



This, gentlemen, is a lady who wants to fuck a corpse (well, technically...) and is willing to do anything to reach that goal.



Behold... the puzzle box. And beware of the pleasures it holds...

...pain and pleasure combined into one - one terrifying and deadly, satisfying feeling of the mingling between life and death, pleasure and pain, love and hate... intense emotions.

Sheesh, I'm becoming all writer-y again. Working on a story and then writing a review seems to make my writing style seep over into the business of reviewing horror. Not that it's a real business, mind you, but... you know what I mean. At least I hope I managed to express myself without too many problems...

Actually, most of the movie consists of the same scenes over and over again. Julia killing/injuring people for Frank, Frank killing people to regain his flesh, Kirsty being all "something is WRONG!", Larry being an ignorant husband (as was established from the beginning)... but this doesn't take anything away from the suspense and utter beauty that is Hellraiser. In a way, this repetitiveness actually helps to establish the mood of the movie - hypnotic.

"It's me, Uncle Frank..."

"Some things have to be endured... and that's what makes the pleasure so SWEET..."



The flower... beautiful symbolism. A symbolism with so many layers that I can't even go into it without making this review into a thesis on how red flowers blooming mean lots of different things in this movie... how they describe a multi-layered reality and different meanings behind the movie and its script or even the original story by Clive Barker on which it (the movie and the script) was based on. Suffice it to say that the terms "life" and "death" only describe a minimum of the symbolism these particular scenes are infused with. I invite you to watch it and judge for yourself. Philosophy students are more than welcome to post their opinions ;)

And I also want to reiterate that the visuals of Hellraiser are some of the best and most enchanting I've ever seen.

Escaping Frank with the puzzle box, Kirsty collapses in panic. Dazed and confused, she wanders through the streets, holding on to it. When she finally breaks down, she is brought into a hospital, where she first doesn't believe that what she experienced was true - until the doctors hand her the box. And of course, as soon as she's alone with the puzzle box in the hospital, she starts playing with it. And we all know what that means: Hell is about to get raised (sorry, pun intended, although I know it's a bad one).

"The box. You opened it. We came."

Pinhead just RULEZ. If there's any entity in horror movies that is just so distanced and matter-of-fact like he is, I will have to start worshipping that one. Until such a time comes, Pinhead still is on top of my list of villains. His detached way of viewing the world of the living flesh is just... brilliant. Other horror movie villains hate, show passion and anger, or are demented. He, on the other hand, is just mildly interested. A tad curious, maybe, but that's it. And that's what makes him so awesome.


Yes. In case you didn't gather it yet, I'm a big Pinhead fan.


Ehm. On with the review at hand.

Kirsty strikes a deal with the Cenobites - she solved the box, and so she should accompany them to hell. However, she manages to convince them that if Frank - Frank, he who escaped from Hell against the Cenobites' wishes and desires - admits that he escaped, they will take him back instead of her.

Promptly, she runs back to her house, demanding to see her father... who, at that point isn't exactly her dad anymore. Frank has taken his skin. Literally. And the Cenobites want him back - they are a bit pissed off.



The beauty of this movie is that no one is innocent of guilt. Kirsty strikes a deal with demonic beings (well... demons to some, angels to others), her father is just dumb and ignorant, Frank is a veritable human monster, Julia is a soulless, murdering bitch, and Pinhead and the other Cenobites aren't exactly nice fluffy bunnies either. This is not Good vs. Evil - this is monstrosity and evil and guilt and desire and darkness on different levels.

Later on in the movie, we get to witness one truly suspenseful cat-and-mouse scene with two absolutely unique and unexpected jump scares.

Suffice it to say... the Cenobites get what they want: Dear old uncle Frank (as if there had been any doubt of that).

"Jesus wept..."

And... a truly unique ending that leaves us smiling.




Long story short: Awesome movie. Truly awesome movie. Everything just ...fits. There really isn't much more to say than that. If you haven't seen Hellraiser yet (shame on you), then go, leave the house now and get the uncut version for ultimate joy and a truly great movie.

10/10 chains with hooks lodging into flesh coming out of nowhere, controlled by Pinhead's will