La Horripilante Bestia Humana

What do you get if you take a leukemia patient, a couple of female Mexican masked wrestlers, a police detective, an unscrupulous chief surgeon, and an ape that isn’t a guy in a gorilla suit, honest, and put them in a movie full of stock heart transplant footage and naked screamers?

A very, very long time ago I saw a 60s era Argentinian import with the improbable (and certainly not plot-relevant) title of Feast of Flesh. Long enough ago that it was the very first thing I reviewed here. The reason this is relevant is that the disc had a second movie on it, which leaves me to wonder if Netflix has a list of the discs that have been out the longest. (This one was a year and a half, apparently.)

In fact, yes, I have finally watched Night of the Bloody Apes, the movie that dares to ask the question, ‘What do you get if you take a leukemia patient, etc.?’ The answer, then? You get a surgeon whose son’s imminent death prompts him to first kidnap a gorilla from the zoo via the well-thought-out plan of entering the zoo, shooting it with a dart, and then leaving with it, and then transplant the gorilla’s blood into his son’s body to defeat the leukemia. This plan would have worked earlier, but now the son is too weak, so the heart must also be transplanted. This all, obviously, because the beast’s more powerful blood will be able to defeat the disease. You also get a masked wrestler chick who is ready to retire now that she’s accidentally dropped her coworker/friend out of the ring and into a coma, but who also has time to argue with her cop boyfriend about how he values his job more than dinners out with her.

Inevitably, though, the now-healed leukemia patient sporadically transforms partially into a gorilla-headed beast whose goal seems to be assaulting random women by ripping their shirts off and then killing them. Sometimes men get killed as well, but without the shirt-ripping and only because they’re in the way. Soon, all of these characters (including the coma girl) collide in a spectacular… amazing… semi-adequate? climax of blood, angst, and bad driving. Seriously, though? A little bit funny. I’d watch it again with other people, if I knew people who were reliably available and willing. (I actually know a few willing people. I really do.)

Minerva: Metastasis 2

To my substantial surprise, the Minerva project released another level. On the bright side, this means I got to play a little more Half-Life thingy, with the lovely headcrabs and all. On the less bright side, I’m reduced to recording fleeting thoughts on someone’s homebuilt game level. It’s like if I owned a Vespa. Sure, it’s well made and intriguing and all, but I still feel kind of ridiculous, you know?

It picks up right where the last level left off: exploring the unlikelily large underground Combine facility. Learning about the nasty headcrab soldier experimentation that’s been going on is plenty enough reason to annihilate the place, if only it was possible to discover a reactor or a spare nuclear device or something. Oh, well, maybe next level. (I had the impression that Metastasis as title implied ongoing title changes following a cancerous theme. The simple numbering instead has me split between maintaining this guess and expecting a very large game and revising the guess to expect that the title will ultimately be unsatisfying, just an authorial choice of cool word. It remains to be seen!)

16 Blocks

Obligatory action movie time! Except, 16 Blocks wasn’t quite as action-oriented as I thought, which was mostly good and slightly bad. Sure, there’s gunplay and chases and car crashes and whatnot, but with neither explosions nor fountains of blood. It’s mostly a talking movie, between Bruce Willis and his fellow cops, Willis and his somewhat crooked grand jury witness, Willis and his estranged family. Mostly, they talk about right and wrong and redemption, and about the line between any two of the three. It wasn’t especially trite, but it was definitely a retread. On the bright side, it had heart.

That said, I’m not sure about Willis’s career these days. ‘Cause, seriously, who can remember the last time he didn’t play a sad-eyed cop trying to protect a person or people from a corrupt system? (Okay, sure, that one time he was a sad-eyed psychiatrist instead.) I know for a fact that he was once funny. Can’t we have that guy, every now and then? This is an unreasonable complaint, though, because I am in no way dismissing his sad-eyed talent. That man can carry the weight of the world on his shoulders at the drop of a hat, and I believe it every time. I bet it’s because he has a kid named Rumor. That would wear on anyone.

The Swarm War

So, I got around to finishing that Dark Nest trilogy, wherein the spectre of a permanent galactic civil war is faced. This would be bad, because if everyone in the Star Wars galaxy died, a stable of some dozen or two authors would be out of jobs, and some of them are pretty good at this. Without meaning to make a spoiler out of it, let’s say that I’m going to presume that the presses have not been stopped as a result of the events in The Swarm War.

The good: the ongoing coolness of someone getting a pirated copy of Revenge of the Sith into Luke Skywalker’s hands, so he can finally get a handle on his roots, and pretty much anytime Chiss are both on the page and speaking rather than being battle fodder. Oh, and all the Jedi Council scenes, especially the characterization parts of them. I’m grooving on Jacen Solo, in ways I will elaborate below the cut. The bad: a lack of Luke using any force lightning like I was promised by the cover, and anything with insect hive mind stuff, because I’m just as unsatisfied with the consequences now as I was when the trilogy started. By and large, it reminds me of the Black Fleet trilogy from a long time ago. Bits and pieces of really cool stuff interspersed with generic uninteresting war. But this time, as I’ve hinted, the characters were a lot more interesting than then.

And, the spoilers:
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Final Destination 3

There’s no denying that it’s ridiculous on the face of it. You can’t very well have a third final destination, given certain definitions of the word final. But? Not caring, me. Halloween II was the day after Halloween, and few if any of the Friday the 13th movies will be heard to even mention the date. That’s just the way sequels work. And as this is a valid sequel to Final Destination, I’m satisfied.

Now, was it a good sequel? This relies on two postulates. One: that the original was good, and it was. Not only can anyone die at any time, but that’s actually the premise of the movie. You can’t adhere to the rules much more closely than that. And two: that this movie be exactly the same as the original good movie. This is a mistake that occurs all too often in horror. If the film was good, why confuse people by making the sequel be some different, unrecognizable movie? (In stark contrast to the rest of Hollywood, where we call making the exact same movie twice in a row by a more derogatory term than sequel, that being remake.) But it’s still not as good as Final Destination 2, the best possible kind of sequel to a horror movie: a continuation of the original.

The plot is simple enough. A person has a vision of impending doom, then sees the world start to conform to that vision, and so escapes the doom, accidentally or purposefully including a small group of people in that escape. Death’s plan now being out of whack, the seemingly lucky people start to die in grotesque and inexplicable ways soon thereafter to right the balance. (This is clearly not the friendly, compassionately goth Death envisioned by Neil Gaiman.) On the bright side, the world offers up clues to avoid these deaths, if only they can be perceived and acted upon. Thusly, in any given sequel the audience receives a reasonably spectacular catastrophe, followed by a series of grisly deaths that would fit right into the opening segment of a Six Feet Under episode. Except for naked chicks, that’s all I’ve ever asked of the genre. And this has those too.

Circus of the Damned

And then, another vampire hunter book. It’s not clear to me if I’m reading these spaced too closely together, although I’m leaving about as big gaps as the narrative leaves between stories, so I suppose it’s not as bad as all that. Still, I felt a little crowded with them, so maybe I’ll wait longer next time.

In any case, Anita Blake is at it again. This time, she’s trying to help the police solve a string of preternatural murders while avoiding her attraction toward the Master Vampire of the City (and incidentally that vampire himself) and trying to get a handle on her dating life. Wherein lies the flaw in the series. To all outward appearances, that’s the plot of all of them that I’ve read. Well, I’m taking some liberties, but it’s pretty close, at the least. The good news is, the actual mystery part of the book tied up as neatly as a bow by the end, despite me being 40 pages out and thinking it impossible. So it still works as mind candy, even with the roteness of it all that’s starting to build up. Oh, and unlike The Laughing Corpse, this title of Circus of the Damned both referred to a location integral to the plot and was relatable to themes and events in the book. Kudos.

Except for the weird part. I’ve heard tell that the series starts to get ever more poorly edited, even as it gets ever more monster-orgy-heavy. Although the latter hasn’t happened quite yet, the former grew alarming in this last book. Multiple easily noticeable typos despite years between editions, and in fact different publishing companies. It’s very hard for me to imagine not checking on things more thoroughly between the first edition and the second, much less like this. And that’s not even all! At one point in the story, the woman has a magical appearing car to replace her totaled one, and it vanishes again as soon as it’s no longer necessary. (Due to other hints, I’m quite sure it could have been neither taxi nor rental.) This kind of plot hole is completely unnecessary, and it makes me fear for the future of the series. …yes, the series of romance novels with vampires. Except, dammit, well-crafted mysteries. Honest!

Fables and Reflections

Typically, I’ll look over previous serial entries before hitting the next review in any given series, to give myself an idea of where I was at the earlier point in the series, and make a decent attempt at a coherent narrative in my own right to match the (let’s hope) coherent narrative that the author provided in the first place. Having finished the 6th Sandman book, Fables and Reflections, it was time to do that. Only, I apparently never got around to reviewing A Game of You. Oops. Clearly, it’s a little late to do a reasonable review now. So, um…. it was pretty good? I guess?

Okay, more seriously, like The Doll’s House, A Game of You was a self-contained storyline, whereas the new volume has turned back to the meat of the Endless mythos. I said before that in the 4th volume the seeds of the remaining storyline were all present. In this one, plants are clearly beginning to sprout. The personalities of the family members outside of Dream and Death are finally starting to be revealed in richer detail, and some family mysteries are solved while others are finally acknowledged.

I liked the construction of it, too. Multiple (at-first-glance-) unrelated tales are linked together by both the family dynamic above and by ongoing reference to months of the year in the stories and in their titles. It doesn’t sound like much here on paper, but the experience of it fun to discover as well as somewhat lyrical in execution. An odd point was the final story, Ramadan. Although it matched the month theme, the rest of the tale didn’t match the feel of the others, to the extent that I’m surprised it ended there, rather than being placed at the beginning. (It’s surprisingly relevant to present day for having been written some 15 years ago, though.)

Date Movie

Usually when I see a movie on opening day, it’s a sci-fi / fantasy thing, or a comic-y thing, or at least a horror thing. Very, very rarely is it a comedy or a chick flick, rarely enough that I can’t think of any to name. And yet, there I was yesterday, sitting down to a showing of Date Movie. Which, y’know… the act of being a parody movie tends to elevate above the lowest common denominator level filled by your Kangaroo Jacks and your White Chicks and your Big Momma’s House 2s. So there’s that?

Seriously, when it was on, it was pretty funny. I especially dug the Mr. and Mrs. Smith bits, although I’m sure that’s based in part on how much I dug the real thing. And it’s fair to say that there were a lot of pieces, like the Big Fat Greek Wedding allusions, that I maybe didn’t find funny because I’m not as versed in the date movie genre as I am in some other ones. Or that my continuously evolving tastes have made me enjoy this kind of thing less. But I think it’s more likely that I know plenty enough, and the parody flick just isn’t nearly as good as it used to be. And that if I stuck Top Secret! in the DVD player, I’d be laughing for the whole thing all over again.

On the bright side, Alyson Hannigan is every bit as palatable to watch as she ever has been, plus she’s still pretty funny in her own right. On the not as bright side, boy can she not sing. I mean, a lot. But I love her anyway, so that’s okay.

The Curse of Chalion

A couple-three years back, I devoured the Vorkosigan series by Lois McMaster Bujold, all in a row in a manner that I clearly no longer utilize. They were good, and I recommend them highly. That said, I was of course interested in the idea of her new book (which has since started to turn into a series of its own), and I eventually snagged a copy of The Curse of Chalion. Only, when I started to read it four months ago (maybe six?), I got about a page and a half in, felt like I was being betrayed into generic fantasy of the most boring stripe, and set it aside for a magical place I like to call the future.

The good news is this: the future has come, and it turned out to be a lot brighter than I would have guessed. I’m not even sure what was so objectionable about that first page; I guess it was just a matter of mood. Anyhow, it’s cool. Cazaril, our hero, is returning home to recapture the simple life he remembers as a castle page, after spending some time as a galley slave. Only, the thing about heroes is life never turns out quite as they hope, and he’s instead re-embroiled in the same politics that led to his original fate (but at a much higher, or perhaps deeper, level) faster than you can make up an appropriate metaphor.

Good stuff: politics, swordplay, treachery, chases, romance, a medieval wet t-shirt contest, demons, and the mysteries of the past and the present. Not only that, but her prose has gotten prettier than I remember it being; from time to time, I’d forget and think I was reading Kay. Finally, it rates well on a theological level. Her version of how gods and men interact with the world and each other is a reasonable approximation of how I imagine these things to work, too, at least. Also, I like that religiousity can be important, nay integral to the storyline without at the same time making the story look like a Chick tract. At some point, I will buy the first sequel and read it too, continuing my ongoing tradition of reviewing any given book months or years after the general public has forgotten it was ever published. Because that’s the kind of quality that I’ve always promised to provide to you, the reader.

When a Stranger Calls (2006)

I learned two things about Valentine’s Day when I went to catch the late showing of When a Stranger Calls (with, as you may recall, the side goal of finding another single out for a horror movie). The first was that only couples go to see movies on that day. Seriously. Fifteen, twenty couples, no larger groups, certainly none smaller except me. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt quite so conspicuous. Secondly, Valentine’s Day is the day for cleavage. So, that’s alright, then.

But, I also saw a movie. A remake of a movie that was not as old as I personally would have speculated, in fact, but which I nevertheless have not seen. On days like this, I feel bad about rolling my eyes at the factory of unoriginality that Hollywood has become lately. It’s not like I’m doing my part to support the originals instead here. So, I can’t compare it as I ought. I can say it was pretty darned good.

Babysitter Jill Johnson has two sick (and therefore sleeping) children to watch, free access to the fridge, the run of an enormous lakeside mansion, and prank callers. Trade out the prank calls for an amorous boyfriend, and it would probably be a pretty good night. Although the calls are nearly as persistent as the supposed boyfriend would have been. Are they coming from all her friends, away at a bonfire party while she’s stuck on the job? Wrong number? Mysterious stranger bent on her brutal murder? It’s anyone’s guess, but it’s certainly enough to leave girl and audience increasingly tense in the unfamiliar and dark house on what can only be described as a stormy night. The slow build and lack of cheap, tension-relieving scares set this one a cut above, in my book. The original is usually better than the remake of any given movie; I hear that’s not the case this time, but if it were? Wow.