Review: "The Lords of Salem"

I'm in the minority and actually like musician-turned-director Rob Zombie's 2003 debut film, House of 1000 Corpses. Conversely, I am among the majority in really liking it's brilliant 2005 sequel, The Devil's Rejects. And his fake trailer for Grindhouse (Werewolf Women of the SS*) is hilarious. I was dubious when I heard he was remaking John Carpenter's career-maker, Halloween but was pleasantly surprised that he actually did it some justice. Then came the remake's sequel, which proved disastrous. Still, I had hope for Zombie's latest film, The Lords of Salem. The trailer looked like another trippy, creepy 70's-referencing movie, much like his first two films but influenced this time by Hammer Studios. It won me over with it's weird and wild imagery:

The film's conceit is among the oldest of the genre's old chestnuts: "The Witch's Curse." What a great starting point. Screw history! Let's burn us some real witches in Salem. Naturally, the head witch curses the female descendants of the original colony and makes the descendant of the clergyman who condemned her bear the Devil's child. Trust me, this is not a spoiler and I'll tell you why. Despite hoping for an original and actually scary take on the trope, Zombie takes ideas from dozens of other (and much better) films about witches, the devil and the anti-Christ; throws them all up on the screen and hopes they stick. 1/3 of the way through the film's 101 increasingly absurd minutes, it starts to become apparent that they don't. Another 15 minutes in and the movie stops making any damned sense at all and it becomes an exercise in directorial indulgence for predictable, uninspired shocks; bizarre imagery and as many references to other works as he could fit in. 

There are some highly uneven performances from the cast of genre veterans, which includes Dee Wallace; Meg Foster; Bruce Davison; Patricia Quinn; Ken Foree and Maria Conchita Alonso with cameos from Michael Berryman and Sid Haig. An unrecognizable Foster comes off the worst as the curse-spewing witch, Margaret Morgan, out-hamming Al Pacino in Scarface and William Shatner in almost anything. Wallace, Quinn and character actress Judy Geeson seem to be at least having fun as crazy, elderly satanists while Davison and Alonso make an unlikely pairing work. Zombie's wife, (Sheri Moon Zombie) continues to be his muse and leading lady, though at almost 40, Moon Zombie's child-like performance is ridiculous (though only slightly less ridiculous than her awful dreadlocks and her eclectic, pop-art perfect apartment down the hall from Old Scratch). As for those amazing visuals in the trailer? Yes, they're in the movie. But so are dozens more that serve no purpose other than to perplex or disgust or cause some sort of reaction without any rhyme or reason. Note to Rob Zombie: No one wants to look at flabby, old naked ladies (not even flabby, old straight men); your wife still can't act and no matter how much you draw on imagery from Bosch; Fever Ray; Roman Polanski;  Ken Russell and David Cronenberg, The Devil should never look like a frog in a chicken suit as played by Chuy Bravo. My friend Michael and I (as well as the rest of the small crowd at the 8:10 show) laughed out loud at one too many things that were obviously not supposed to be funny, while often asking ourselves aloud: "What the...?"

I suppose it's good to know that Zombie knows his genre's history, but knowing the stories hardly makes him a story-teller. In the end, The Lords of Salem tries too hard to be too many things at the same time, hitting the audience over the head with heavy-handed imagery and totally uninspired references to far better works. While some critics are calling it 'daring' and 'ambitious,' I think The Lords of Salem is self-indulgent twaddle from someone who should know better. Bizarre for the sake of being bizarre is never interesting. Honestly, who actually decided to release this crap? I hope he or she gets fired for it. 0 Stars Out of Four.

Have a marathon at home, instead. Rent Rosemary's Baby; The Sentinel; The Devils; Lair of the White Worm; Naked Lunch; Altered States and The Fly and have an actual good time watching movies with the same themes and visuals, made by actually talented directors. What the hell happened to the guy who made *this?:

I'll never get the time back that I wasted on this POS, but Rob Zombie owes me $11.00, damnit! The Lords of Salem is rated 'R' for violence, nudity, male masturbation, gore and language. It should be rated 'P' for Pee-yew!

More, anon.
Prospero

Please Don't Shoot Myrna's Dog

John Daker

I have absolutely nothing bad to say about most religious people. I may think they are silly and misguided, though most of them are decent people with good intentions; inclusive and non-judgmental; loving and fervent in their beliefs. That's fine with me. As long as they don't try to impose their beliefs on me, that's just peachy.

Of course, they are also human, which means they have egos. Egos which lead them - despite their most devout intentions - down the path of derision, ridicule and just plain patheticity (Yes, I made up another word. Deal). These folks truly believe they are doing 'service' to their Lord with these performances, While I have no doubt about their sincerity, their obvious lack of musical talent far surpasses the messages they are trying to import.

A few years back, I stumbled upon the video below and shared it during the Holidays. I remember commenting that poor Myrna looked as if her dog was being held at gunpoint off-camera, which was a reference to former Little Rascals star Jackie Cooper (Superman), who claimed producers threatened to shoot his dog to make him cry on camera.

And I imagine that attorney Michael Clancy wishes this next video never found it's way to YouTube. I'm guessing this is late 80's to early 90's. Ladies and Germs; I give you young, white, untalented Christian rapper Michael Clancy and Nu Thang:

I'm lucky enough to be from a time before video cameras and when the most embarrassing photos are safe inside an album. Poor Mr. Clancy will have this follow him in Cyber Space well beyond his death.

And speaking of things from beyond the grave (rimshot, please), the latest of such performances to pass across my feeds is "My Name is John Daker." Mr. Daker, undoubtedly confident of his presentation before actually shooting, does his best to keep from looking terrified at forgetting nearly every word of both of the songs he was supposed to sing. The fact that neither song has anything  to do with the other makes it all the better (or worse - I'm not sure which).

Oh, dear. Of course, since then, I've discovered two rather genius takes on that clip. First this animated version from cr0uchingtiger:



But best, this 'Daker on Idol' mashup from Erik Hollander:

I really don't have much more to say. I think the clips speak for themselves. No, I'm not 'God.' Yes, I am judging you (well, your performances, anyway) and I find your lack of talent disturbing. Just promise you'll never record yourselves 'singing' again and we're cool. And Myrna - I hope your dog was okay.

More, anon.

Prospero

The Beyonce Concert or: You Made HOW Much?

Stevie Nicks Called. She Wants Her Song Back

Like many folks, I honestly couldn't care less about professional sports if you paid me. Personally I think it's criminal that professional athletes, musicians and movie actors make millions, while teachers; cops; cancer researchers; nurses; EMTs and any number of people working in fields which actually add to the quality of our lives often live paycheck-to-paycheck. Not that I would deny anyone the right to make money but it seems our values are rather screwed up when it comes to professional salaries.  Think about this - Adam Sandler makes $20M for every awful, unfunny movie he makes. A high school English teacher who has been working for 20 years; dealing with uninterested, bored and even drug-addled students; is lucky to make $50K a year. 

I don't even want to know what Beyonce Knowles was paid for her 13-minute half-time appearance* at tonight's Superbowl. 13 Minutes. Surgeons can spend hours on end saving lives and are paid a very small fraction of what Ms. Knowles made for singing and dancing  in a leather and lace bathing suit for 13 minutes during the break in a game.

"But Uncle P, you're an actor/director/designer/writer. Shouldn't you be paid for your work?" 

Of course. As should everyone, no matter what they do for a living. And as much as Sports and the Arts contribute to the quality of life, it just seems insane to me that people who play games, sing songs and pretend to be people they're not should make so much more money than someone who teaches children to read; removes a life-threatening tumor; comforts the dying or protects us from those who would do us harm. There's a strange disconnect here, don't you think? Why does a guy who can kick a football earn more than a person who can literally save your life? Why does a woman who can sing and dance earn more than a woman who can make us understand the squiggles and symbols that make up the written word? 

Don't get me wrong - I'm all for Capitalism and the right to earn as much money as one can. I just think that our value system is a little more than askew. Beyonce is indeed a talented woman who deserves to be paid for what she does. But ask yourselves this: Does she deserve to be paid more for singing and dancing for 13 minutes than the surgeon who spends six or more hours removing a complicated tumor from someone's brain or the cop who puts his/her life on line to protect you from criminals? I think not.

*Some are reporting that Knowles actually lost money by performing at Superbowl 47. I can only imagine that such an appearance just added to her future revenues.

And I'm so glad that so many Superbowl winners are going to Disney. Like they need more money...

More, anon.
Prospero

Sore Losers

Bad Spellers Untie!

Did I Actually Just see That?

Two years ago, as part of my "Secret Santa" at work, a co-worker who knows me all too well gave me a DVD of the movie Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter. As you can see from the picture (and the embedded clips below), I am not making this up. Needless to say, I did not watch it, but put it in my collection in the hopes that no one would notice it was there. Of course, like the undead, it wouldn't stay buried forever. So tonight, as part of My Dear D's birthday celebrations, we watched Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter and were thoroughly entertained by its total awfulness.

After an intro featuring the Rasputin-ish "Ivan Freud" standing in amidst what looks like a marijuana grove, the real 'movie' starts. I'll try and make sense of it's plot for you. Vampires have become impervious to sunlight (we later find out this is because of skin-grafts from a mad scientist/doctor/looney) and are now feeding on Ottawa's LGBT community. Well, mostly lesbians, just so the filmmakers could include shots of lesbian kissing. The vampires think this is the perfect group to target since "they are deviants and won't be missed." Of course, nothing pisses Jesus off more than vampires killing lesbians, so He returns in the form Canadian "actor" Phil Caracas. After his first encounter with the vampires at a lake (featuring a mohawked-priest who blesses the lake so Jesus can throw the vampires in it), He gets a shave, haircut and a #8-gauge ear piercing. Who wouldn't? Then there's a big musical number with the citizens of Ottawa, featuring go-go girls and a skateboard (my hand to God).

Not long after moving into an apartment above a church, Jesus meets Mary Magnum, a pleather-wearing vampire hunter who takes him to a second-hand store for less conspicuous looking clothes. Oh, yeah - first, Jesus stops at a local hardware store to buy firewood to carve into stakes (I only wish I was making this up). Of course, this is right after Jesus has an encounter with a group of atheists in the world's first Clown Car Jeep in one the most pathetically choreographed fight scenes, ever:

Apparently, the head atheist had a coconut in his belly!

It goes on in much the same way, filled with horrendously ridiculous "special effects" (we particularly liked the medical tubing "veins" and panty-hose "intestines"). Jesus takes a terrible beating by the vampires at Dr. Preatorious' clinic and is rescued by a hairy transvestite Good Samaritan who is never seen again. Eventually, Jesus hooks up with Mexican wrestling star Santos and the weirdly silent Gloria Oddbottom (a woman whose gigantic ass is groped at every opportunity - even by Jesus) to battle the vampires in a junkyard, while simultaneously fighting the lumpy Dr. Preatorious at his clinic. But Jesus, being merciful, heals the vampires and sends Santos back to Mexico with his new bi-sexual ex-vampire girlfriend. WTF?!!!

If you've never seen Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter, I wouldn't recommend that you do - unless you're really in the mood to laugh at some pathetic acting, ridiculous dialog ("You're all up in the Kool-Aid and you don't even know what flavor it is") and the worst special effects that $40k Canadian can buy (in 2001, that was about $6.57 U.S.). I know that director Lee Demarbre and writer Ian Driscoll (who also plays a vampire named "Johny Golgotha") were trying to make a comedy. Sadly, Jesus Christ Vampire Slayer is funny for all the wrong reasons. Could Demarbre be the Canadian Ed Wood?

The best part of the movie? Probably it's haunting theme song: "Everyone Gets Laid Tonight." That, and the fact not one character is surprised or intimidated by the fact that Jesus has returned to Earth. "Body of Christ," indeed.

More, anon.
Prospero