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I do admit, I like me some cheesy, silly, stupid movies. But I will only admit to liking them in more than just blue hyperlinks if they have a hint of nerdiness, too.

Luckily, this movie, concluding what appears to be (in hindsight) my British long weekend of horror flicks, has a decent dose of it.




I really can't believe I've only just seen this. In two years, I'll probably finally see Avatar. A lot of my friends and family members still talk about this movie, and I have had to nod my head and laugh as if I've also watched it, but inside I felt like a pathetic liar. Because I was. Well, no more! I may have hyped it up, but I honestly did enjoy watching it, and it was a refreshing departure from the other movies I have been reviewing lately. Perhaps I'm just too much of a wuss for horror movies, because this is really more of a comedy, and was in fact, jokingly marketed as "a romantic comedy with zombies". As you do.


We open the movie with Shaun (Simon Pegg), showing us just how dreary and predictable his life is, starting with his morning routine: jam on toast, being yelled at by his uptight, workaholic housemate for leaving the door open, buying a strawberry Cornetto and Diet coke from the corner shop and getting smacked in the head with an idiot child's football. At work, he manages a group of pimply-faced, disinterested, SMS-addicted teenage (figurative) zombies, who laugh at him when he says he's not going to be there forever. He's 29, and even though his life is going nowhere, he seems to enjoy his routine, which always ends at the same pub - The Winchester.



This is where his girlfriend Liz (Kate Ashfield) decides to dump him, fearing she'll turn into one of the (figurative) zombies who keep coming there day in, day out. While Shaun has clearly come to love his routine, she is getting sick of it, leaving him to get cry and shit-faced with Ed (Nick Frost), his pot-dealing, slobbing couch potato housemate whose only contributions are binge-drinking debris and a rather piss-poor orang-utan impression.

Hungover (or possibly still drunk) the next morning, he suddenly decides that his breakup with Liz was a catharsis, and that he has to change to win her back. Unfortunately, this moment happens to coincide with a nascent zombie outbreak affecting the greater London area, which threatens to make things difficult.



The undead invasion isn't without its merits, though - it seems to have calmed down their uptight housemate, has shuffled some of Liz's priorities (slightly), brings Shaun closer to his stepdad (in a way), and encourages Shaun and Ed to finally sort out their vinyl record collection (while using them as weapons). In fact, a routine that both romantic leads seem to tire of ends up being the very thing that saves them. Well, most of them.



With humour slotted into all the right places (inbetween references to movies to which it's paying homage, and sickening violence), the pacing never lags, and the comic timing developed by Pegg during his Spaced years has not gone to waste. He manages to portray Shaun as both likable and pathetic, getting us to root for him rather than write him off as some fruitless, inconsiderate dosser. On that note, Frost is also convincing as an irritating but affable moron, and is almost definitely comparable to at least one of your mates. There are also some solid turns from the awesome Nick Moran and Lucy Davis as Liz's flatmates David and Diane, and two quite heartfelt and "typical British parent" performances from Bill Nighy and Penelope Wilton.



Glad I watched it in the end and even if the zombie metaphors (teenage shop workers, supermarket checkout operators, bus wankers) were a bit heavy-handed, they make up for it with some guffaw-inducing moments. Of note is the scene in which the group realise the street around the pub is crawling with zombies, and in order to get past them, Diane uses her skills as a failed actress to teach everyone how to act like one of the undead. But, as this movie is bound to contain a few deaths, some of the humour is quelled by some pretty serious moments, and I found the choice of deaths to be a bit fun-ruining. Other than that, it's definitely worth a watch.
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As my month of freaking myself out needlessly continues, I wonder how much of my list will reveal itself to have been bullied by a lot of recommendations and "best" lists...?



Having only vaguely heard of this by name, I thought it might be worth a look since it was part of the esteemed (ahem) Hammer back catalogue, and marked the studio's first attempt at a horror movie. It's more science-fiction than horror, but the story elements are so simple I'm not sure if it holds up well. Worse still, having been adapted from a longer-length serial, it's clear that the movie is just a heavily abridged version of this, and the events simply go from A to B to C to D to etc etc.

Set in England, the movie begins with a couple of randy teenagers frolicking, literally rolling in the hay, in the front garden of the girl's dad's farm (?!). Before they do something that will make her get pregnant, the guy overhears a weird noise, which turns out to be a space rocket crashing. Honestly, if they weren't going to kill off these little bortsal recruits and her surprisingly tolerant father, they didn't really need this scene - they could have just cut straight to the crash site, where the action starts happening.



It's already crawling with police, detectives, the press and a bunch of randoms, as well as Victor, single guy who survived the crash. He also happens the be the only one on board, and in complete shock, can only blankly say "Help" before being wheeled off...

...To a laboratory (not a hospital), which is run by the powerful, egocentric Professor Bernard Quatermass (Brian Donlevy), who designed the rocket, and his doctor assistant. A few spinning newspapers inform us that Quatermass had refused a police investigation, and later in the lab, he is hesitant to take the poor bastard to the hospital, because they have just discovered that Victor's fingerprints look a bit off, and no-one else but they know what's out there "in space...on the other side of the sky!"



Since Victor (played superbly by the now late Richard Wordsworth) is unnaturally silent, profusely sweaty, and keeps giving everyone really creepy stares, the professor and his doctor start to worry. It's just as well, because his pointy-breasted wife (played woodenly by the surprisingly then-veteran actress Margia Dean) isn't particularly bothered or affectionate. She does whine a bit, and gets to deliver some painfully obvious lines ("the world? What world? Your world? The world of Quatermass") and the horror staple banshee scream once Victor escapes. Unfortunately, she's not bumped off, though.

It soon transpires that Victor is mutating, and it's assumed it was caused by the effects of being in space. The men watch some of the video footage to try to determine what happened, but after a good 5 minutes of scary traffic-light-type music, nothing actually happens. I kept waiting for it, but...nothing. Not even by 1955 standards. It's a complete waste of a scene and doesn't tell us something we don't already know.



The rest of the film involves a cat-and-mouse game, with both a detective and the professor trying to hunt down poor Victor, who is trying to figure out what the hell is happening to him, and how to stop it. There's a particularly affecting scene in which he breaks into a pharmacy and frantically tries to concoct a respiratory poison with which to put himself out of his misery, and also tries to resist the urge to kill the pharmacist. Indeed, Victor's pain appears so real, that we honestly feel sorry for him. He spends the majority of the film looking utterly panicked and conflicted, and Wordsworth's portrayal is excellent. He has the perfect Willem DeFoe-esque presence for it - large, expressive bug-eyes, sharp, bony cheekbones and a skinny, lofty frame.



It's a shame then, that the movie just degenerates into a cheesy illustration of just how bad special effects were back then. It dates the movie terribly, which is why I'm loath to watch anything that seems to present any SFX-based entity as its piece-de-resistance. The actual fully-formed alien lifeform appears to resemble a giant, leathery, farting testicle, looking like the bastard child of Jabba The Hutt and a spider crab.

But never mind that. Despite the fact that the tv serial's original ending packed more emotional punch (this movie resorts to the saving power of pyrotechnics), there is an interesting method of character development at play for Professor Quatermass. Instead of using Donlevy's acting to traditionally display traits, his sense of character is built up by every other character's reaction to him. He seems to be able to design and build a rocket, oversee his astronaut's after-care, deny hospital admittance and refuse a police investigation. He seems to be above the law entirely, and most of the fear and cock-ups seem to be caused by a lack of doing things properly (i.e. hospitals, police, the army, Patrick Brogan) rather than any danger that could have been avoided. Through these events, and even at the end of the film, it's clear where the real horror lies.
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I have to admit, I never read the book, possibly because, when I was younger, I never felt I had to. Frankenstein's monster (NOT Frankenstein), is such an iconic character, that I grew up knowing exactly who he was and how he was created, so I felt like reading the book would just be somebody telling me something I already knew.

It's a shame I didn't, because, after doing a little research, it turns out that this retelling is the most faithful to the book of all its movie adaptations. Almost everything that occurs in the book is portrayed in the movie, and in the exact same sequence, as if Mary Shelley had written the screenplay herself.


Victor Frankenstein (the eminent Kenneth Branagh, who also directed), is a gifted scientist, and by modern standards would probably be a surgeon or a pathologist. His interest in the chemical processes of the decaying of organic tissue stir up a curiosity about using alchemy to cheat mortality. Bolstered by the recent death of his mother during childbirth, and that of his mentor Professor Waldman (John Cleese), he vows to take up the latter's abandoned research concerning...human reanimation. Which is pretty much what it sounds like.

He throws himself into his work, and refuses to stop even when a cholera outbreak drives several people out of town. When his comely stepsister Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter) begs him to leave with her so that they may be married (don't worry, it's not weird), he refuses, stating that his work "must come first", and will not even divulge to her the nature of his work. Rather than that be a lesson to her about his priorities (and sanity), she promises to stay and help in any way she can.



We get the great "It's alive!" payoff scene with all the ghoulish enthusiasm we could hope for, but Victor's eureka/euphoria moment is suddenly mashed into a damp squib as he realizes exactly what he's created: something unnatural, not human, and, quite simply, an abomination.

Played by Robert DeNiro, he cuts a truly menacing figure, not least because of his height, but also due to the sheer horror his appearance elicits. Now that a Frankenstein movie has been made since the invention of prosthetics, we can see not only a faithful retelling of Shelley's tale, but add some dirty, Victorian realism into the brutality of how the monster is created. Deep, black, thick stitches crudely connect every limb and appendage, and several run across his face, bringing out the colours of both of his eyes. He literally looks like several pieces of different corpses just stitched together, and the result is truly grotesque.



Immediately after being "born", he realises that he has been abandoned, and sets out into the world (nicking some of his dad's clothes). He tries to befriend a family, but with disastrous results, and upon discovering Victor's journal in his coat pocket, learns to read, and discerns the truth about his birth. Like most Freudian nightmares, he places the blame for his strife squarely with his father, and, after torching that family's home, returns to demand a mate from him. Victor, meanwhile, had completely forgotten about the monster, and had happily married Elizabeth. This is where things take a very grim turn, and the film's final act is both tragic and macabre.



The core of the troubles depicted in this movie is extremely human, monster or no monster. Nobody in this movie is capable of being happy. Victor, who never recovered from his mother's death, has thrown himself into his arrogance that playing God affords him; and both Elizabeth and the monster looked to him for their own happiness, which he cannot provide.

With that in mind, the plight of each character would have benefited from much deeper character development, as the movie suffers under the weight of its own ambition to cross into blockbuster territory by eschewing gritty drama for empty chase scenes. However, if we had not had the calibre of acting from the film's main three, the results would have been very different entirely. Each are more than capable in their own roles, but movie appears to be split into two halves - one showing Victor's perspective, the other the monster's - but neither join to one cohesive narrative, and instead robs each of a little bit of emotional impact.



As a result, both Frankenstein and his monster appear to be a bit one-dimensional.The long closeups of the monster's truly heartbreaking sobs should be tugging at our heartstrings, but it becomes difficult to sympathise with his conflict if his key scenes were ineffective. The monster is essentially an abandoned child or an unloved, ill-treated attack dog, and an empty book, which of course can be dangerous, so it is disappointing that a movie depicting a man of science does not explore the "nature vs nurture" argument at all. This film could have been much darker, and much more harrowing, if the screen time had been extended slightly to allow better scenes showcasing the monster's emotional struggle. But, that aside, this makes for a compelling watch, but certain scenes are not for the squeamish.
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Now, you didn't think I'd blog about watching Hallowe'en movies for a month and not include a Hitchcock film, would you? Aside from his being a horror stalwart, I also need to give a shout-out to my British background, so this is a great way to kill two birds with one stone.

FYI: the above pun was absolutely not intended. I swear


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Day 6 - I'm aware I'm posting on the night of the 8th (and it will probably publish shortly after midnight on the 9th), but I did technically watch this on the 6th, so it totally counts. I just had to rewatch it again today because I kept falling asleep the first time. No reflection on the movie, just my temporary low blood sugar, long, lunchless days at work, and a cat with 24-hour night terrors.


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After Monday's non-acid-based acid trip, I decided to take a break from weirder horror movies and browse some TV listings for a cue for last night's movie. And I found it! Hurrah! And, perfectly, it was listed as a horror comedy. You know, like Shaun of The Dead, or Scream, or something like that.


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Day 4, and I am already sleeping with the lights on. I am such a horror lightweight now (very much like the fact that I can't seem to handle fairground rides anymore). Since I got back from abroad, I've been staying with my Dad, and I can't bear to think what his electricity bill is now.

Anyway, night four of my apparently sado-masochistic film buffery was served by Eraserhead (1977), director David Lynch's debut. Partly funded by the AFI (until he ran out of money), this is quite frankly the most bizarre movie I've ever seen, and has enough joyless, score-less, slow-moving scenes that would rival the likes of any post-modern student film out there


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Day 3, and I thought I would try something a little bit campy. The camp in question is brought by Sam Raimi, courtesy of his gross-fest comeback Drag Me To Hell. And with a title like that, you're not really going to be expecting something serious, are you?


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Day two of my Halloween cinetastic adventure kicked off with Triangle (2009), a British horror movie starring three Australian actors speaking in fairly convincing American accents. The movie follows a group of ill-fated yuppies who decide to go off yachting, but Jess (Melissa George) tries to spoil the fun by complaining about her autistic son whom she didn't seem to bother inviting on this damn trip.

After the first five minutes of pleasantries, introductions of group dynamics, small portions of character traits, and a complete lack of hedonism to get us rooting for this group of people, we find ourselves immediately thrown into the thick of the action. Their boat capsizes in the middle of a storm, but, the group intact, they decide to seek refuge on a gigantic cruise liner that happens to be swanning past them. Surprisingly/unsurprisingly (take your pick), this boat also happens to be completely empty


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So as I am nowhere near the town of Hall-o-we-en this year, I decided the way to get myself into the spirit would be to watch a horror movie every night of the month of October. For the most part I'd be dependent on tv listings and hope that something decent would be on, but I'm endeavouring to watch horror classics I've not yet seen (but should), or give myself an excuse to watch something horribly cheesy (perhaps Twilight if paired with copious amounts of alcohol and snarky friends).

I've already drummed up a list of movies, and have been fairly stringent with my own rules (no sci-fi and no torture porn), and if the gore-fest gets to be a little too much, I'll take a break and watch a bloodless B&W classic or a family-friendly Hallowe'en movie (or anything Tim Burton made after he had kids


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