Against my better instincts, I have decided to ponder the entire first season of HBO’s Fantasy/Melodrama House Of The Dragon in a single piece, mostly because I’ve promised to do so to readers, friends, and family who do check in from time-to-time.  Otherwise, I think I’d just my individual episode reviews speak for themselves; but I do think viewing them as a single entity might be a worthwhile exercise for those interested.
 
Buyer beware: you may not like what you read.
 
General housekeeping information: for those born on an island or amongst the Amish, Dragon is a sequel/prequel to Game Of Thrones.  The George RR Martin saga ran for eight fun-filled seasons on the pay channel network, often time garnering headlines for its somewhat violent weddings, gratuitous sex, and big action sequences.  As I’ve mentioned before, it ended with some controversy – a debate still rages in unquiet corners of the Internet where folks secretly hope for a do-over – but I felt that anyway convinced it was all somehow going to end happily really weren’t watching the same program I was.  But because it was so popular with audiences and critics, HBO smartly hitched their wagon to the franchise and will be rolling out additional series in perpetuity.
 
“Okay … and how was House Of The Dragon’s first season?” you ask.
 
In a word: uneven.
 
In some ways, an unevenness can be a good thing, right?  It can make a show feel edgy or contemporary in ways that other programs can’t.  Life itself rarely makes perfect sense, so why not explore the lives, loves, and lessons of some real royal bastards and badasses in a way mankind may not have seen before.  There’s an unpredictability to some of the developments; they still should feel organic, or one risks being dubbed gratuitous for gratuitous’ sake.  And there’s a boldness to trying something not so much out-of-the-norm as it is just to the left (or right) of sane.  Critics often embrace the extraordinary over the ordinary, so who’s to say weaving this particular tapestry as unconventionally as you can is a bad idea?
 
Well …
 
One would think that given the vastness of the source material that a room of screenwriters working in concert might be able to recognize some of the downsides to their ten episodes as designed.  Characters come and go – some of them seemingly very important, but the audience is given fairly little substance with which to get to know them in any functional way – and more than a few of them get introduced solely to be killed off moments later.  Were this a half hour sitcom, then perhaps laughs would’ve been scored; but in the context of a period Fantasy with so many stories, backstories, and incorporated fictional mythology I found it occasionally difficult to know what to make of the sudden death.  Why him?  Why her?  Why now?  Did I miss the significance?  Something about it tells me these once-living folks were important – why else would they appear in this story – but I just can’t tell the difference between those with greater import and those people who were truly, ultimately disposable.  Most of this confusion is because there seem to be absolutely no consequences to murdering anyone in this version of the Seven Kingdoms, and I don’t quite understand why that is.
​

Also, it probably didn’t help alleviate viewers confusion that Dragon required a handful of significant time jumps in order to tell the story as provided.  On some occasions, so many years passed that producers had to recast an actor or an actress; but when not every player is brought in with a new face, there’s a bit of narrative disconnect that must be ironed out with exposition.  (Exposition is a buzzkiller.  It ruins everything when it’s used.  Take my word for it.  Or don’t.)  So folks at home had to watch the season perhaps a bit more closely than they were accustomed to (Game Of Thrones’ last two seasons were far more about spectacle than they were substance), and the end result may’ve been part of why I found all of this set-up so clunky.
 
All shows are required to have a measure of conflict, if for no other reason is the fact that good drama often evolves from the intersection of these issues.  The players are meant to clash, both in words and action.  They must take sides.  Brothers turn on fathers.  Daughters defy their mothers.  Peasants rebel because of their plight.  Often times, fledgling writers mistake high tension or screaming arguments as great theater because – in most instances – that’s all they know.  Yet Dragon benefits largely as it’s evolved from a novel (or series of them), so author Martin has provided a spine about which these creative folks are building a body.  In the process, I can’t help but wonder if they’ve sidelined whatever Martin wanted his bold tale to be about in favor of highlighting these equally nefarious characters.
 
Thus far, however, Dragon isn’t anything like a contemporary good vs. evil story as I heard one person recently describe it to friends.
 
I say this because – quite frankly – there are no good people in it.  None that I see, at least.  As a consequence, we’re left with “the lesser of the evils” story, and that’s a tough sell for a long haul.  Why?  Well, viewers want to root for someone.  It’s kinda/sorta part of being along for the vicarious thrill.  But when you’re given no hero – just a never-ending stream of anti-heroes – you’re fundamentally rooting for a villain because everyone is one.  There’s been no effective character development to suggest otherwise (not that I’ve seen), so viewers can’t quite find the show’s moral core.  (I know I can’t.)  Stories lacking a moral center – even if it isn’t a code you and I believe in – flounder and flail because they’re always slaves to their respective circumstance.  When events alone propel the tale – and not a foundation of right confronting wrong – then the stories go nowhere fast.  This one, however, is going pretty slowly.
 
In fact, one might easily conclude that all of the first season – the time jumps, the imperfect characters, etc. – was little more than an expansive if not exhaustive set-up for an inevitable conflict.  A lot of ground is covered (ten years? fifteen years?), and – as I hope I’ve been clear – context is certainly not these showrunners’ strength.  Today’s screenwriters like to christen this “long-form storytelling,” and I suppose that’s probably about as accurate a moniker as it is inaccurate.  There’s little story – again, a never-ending parade of events linked solely by the people who experience them – and viewers won’t know what to make of it until, when, and if it all concludes.  That can be a long, long, long wait.  Game Of Thrones – by comparison – felt as if it was narratively staged around big events – ones that often explored cause and effect – so it was reasonably easy to go with the flow, as they say.  Dragon lacks an organic tide; instead, we’re hurled ahead months if not years, all by a script’s convention, with only the hope that we’ll recognize everything when we get there.
 
I’m not sure we will.

​-- EZ

Folks, I read just earlier today of the announcement on The Hollywood Reporter noting the passing of long-time screen veteran Michael Kopsa.  It's been reported that he had been suffering from complications from brain cancer, and his wife broke the news herself on Twitter just today.

Just a quick look into his IMDB.com profile will assure you that this man was a true heavyweight in the world of genre projects.  He leaves behind a resume of well over two hundred different roles; though some of them were small, there's no discounting his incredible contribution to many of the shows we've grown to love over the years.

Need a few names?

Well, how about the fact that -- as a voice actor -- the man scored his debut bringing to life aboard the original incarnation of Mobile Suit Gundam (1979-1980)?

Go on, you say?

The list is long and illustrious, indeed.  Sliders.  Highlander.  The X-Files.  Honey, I Shrunk The Kids: The TV Show.  The Net.  Viper.  Mercy Point.  The Sentinel.  The Outer Limits.  Seven Days.  The Immortal.  Stargate: SG-1.  Jeremiah.  Smallville.  The Twilight Zone.  Touching Evil.  The Dead Zone.  The 4400.  Eureka.  Flash Gordon.  Masters Of Science Fiction.  Watchmen (2009).

And this doesn't even touch on his many voice appearances in animation or as a supporting player offscreen in countless other projects.

Though he's no longer with us, we'll thankfully always have his work to remember him by.

Thoughts and prayers are extended to the fans, family, and friends of Mr. Kopsa.

​-- EZ

In case you folks don’t already know this, it gets increasingly difficult to talk in substantive terms about a growing number of franchises.
 
Back before the days of the Internet, scribes and critics didn’t really have to worry about so much daily (or routine) interaction with their readership.  A controversial opinion – when properly couched with both the distance from the general public as well as the reality that opposing forces were vastly less likely to meet – was just that … a controversial opinion.  It was rarely met with choruses to boycott an outlet or cries for authors to be censored into oblivion.  Back then, people honestly had better things to do with their time; yet, today, every Tom, Dick, Harry, Marcia, Jan, or Cindy has a blog, a vlog, a Facebook group, or the wide, wide Twittersphere with which to put out a call to arms.  That can be unnerving to some, but those who know me best will tell you that my propensity to ‘give a damn’ flamed out decades ago.
 
In fact, I’ve rarely ever given that a second thought … and this is because I write to express my own opinion, not to influence others about what’s good, what’s bad, what’s exceptional, or what’s hot garbage.  I like what I like – I try to express my fondness for the things I discover (or vice versa) – and I let the chips fall however they may.  I figure if I have to crash and burn, then I should be forever free to do it all of my own accord … so take that, Internet haters.
 
All of this brings me to “Announcement,” the seventh episode in the Disney+ Star Wars series Andor … which, quite frankly, is a bit boring.
 
I know, I know, I know.  I’m not allowed to say that because somehow my opinion magically and mystically invades your safe space, making it a big no-no.  Well, buckle up, buttercup, because that latest 50-minute experience was a bit of a slog … necessarily.  Big things came down in the installment right before, so – from a narrative standpoint – it was now time for audiences to catch their breath, for the characters in the galaxy far far away to come to grips with these latest developments, and for changes to occur that would set up the next part of the action.
​

That fact that I found it a bit tedious is, ultimately, inconsequential.  (I’m sure that there are plenty other critics out there who continue to swoon of every moment – blemished or not – and that’s perfectly cool.)  I suspect that the pace will pick up again – not via another moderately successful bank heist, hopefully – and we’ll be off to the races once more.  But creator Tony Gilroy and his band of screenwriters really ought to be a bit more learned in moving what resembles a plot forward.  All of this means is that I’m struggling with their style.  Such is life.
 
But as a character … I still don’t trust Cassian Andor.
 
I know, I know, I know.  How can I say that?  He’s a critical darling!  Well, that may be the case, but as I’ve said before I found him the least interesting character in all of Rogue One – his introduction to this cinematic universe – but he was salvaged in the small way of giving him an identifiable arc, one that showed he could stand for something when the chips were down.  At this juncture in Andor, he clearly doesn’t.  To make matters worse, he makes some of the dumbest choices imaginable – i.e. returning home, daring capture or incarceration, walking about freely on a beach resort planet (Space Malibu?) teeming with Imperial operatives.
 
Come the end of “Announcement,” I turned to my wife and asked, “Just how stupid can one supposed cunning criminal be?”
 
The fact that he’s survived this long without being either jailed or killed has almost officially defied logic – look for the impending press release from Kathleen Kennedy’s office or thereabouts.  Not only is he uninteresting and untrustworthy, he’s now categorically stupid.
 
This is the best the rebels can hope for?
 
Naturally, I do hope that the evolution of him from ‘doddering scamp’ to ‘hero of the Alliance’ is worth the wait.
 
At this point, I think it’s fair for me to conclude that – as a stand-alone property – I just don’t find Andor all that interesting.  This isn’t to say that it hasn’t had some nice moments or maybe even a good performance or two.  If I were that intrigued by Cassian himself, then I might feel more invested in the show (at this point, which is all I’m referencing, folks); but given the fact that this storyline is intended to be part and parcel of a broader universe I’m not all that impressed.

​-- EZ

Yes, yes, and yes!

It isn't every day that I get to stop and smell the sweet, sweet aroma of success, but October 26th is officially one for our records book, folks, as -- just this morning -- the corresponding citations page (here) reached an incredible 100 different bits of SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror trivia for interested readers.

I've always said that -- way, way back when I started cataloguing such minutiae -- that the inevitable goal would be to have, at least, 100 different citations on any given day of the calendar year.  While it's taken me an incredible amount of research -- along with formatting changes and the like -- some of these days are starting to shape up the way I like.  That's why I thought it entirely appropriate to pen a quick acknowledgement post to honor all of these movers, shakers, smilers, and knuckleheads ... as well as giving myself an affectionate nod.

It ain't easy, peeps.  It's a time-consuming entity, this place is.  But I do it out of my never-ending love of genre, and -- if nothing else -- I hope that comes through with each and every little factoid I'm thrilled to add to this space.  This place is constantly, constantly growing: I just checked my research archives, and -- even though I'm probably done with my tinkering for today -- I still have well over fifty other items for October 26th that I'm hoping to get up in black-and-white.  As I said, it just takes time.

In any event, this will likely be the only post on the MainPage for today.  I have a dental appointment later this morning, so I'm off to see that wizard shortly.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

​-- EZ

Here is today’s history lesson, folks:
 
In 1988, writer/director Gregory Lamberson created an Indie Horror film titled Slime City.  While it’s safe to suggest that it never went on to win any Academy Awards – not for the love of trying, that is, but Hollywood typically frowns on art they have no part in – the flick still worked hard and found its way into the hearts and minds of folks who like that sort of thing.  One could make the case that, since this was the auteur’s debut picture, perhaps some of its shortcomings could be chalked up to a guy just getting used to the merchandise.  Whatever the truth may be, clearly the central idea of “slime” stuck to its creator.  (Yes, pun intended, dammit.  I work hard on my puns.)
 
Flash forward an incredible two decades later, and Lamberson decided to dip back into those dangerous waters for an uncharacteristically late sequel (of sorts).  Slime City Massacre (2010) picks up only a fraction of the storyteller’s elements of the original but expands on them in an all-new context, one set against the backdrop of American terrorism, vigilante justice, and a forgotten class of people living out their sad, sorry existence in a blighted, desecrated urban apocalypse.  Into this world, a few strangers make a startling discovery: something from the past has survived, and it’s about to change the face of what’s left of the world as we know it.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
​

From the product packaging:
“Two fugitives seek refuge from a totalitarian government in the radioactive ruins of New York City seven years after a dirty bomb explosion.  They join forces with a group of hardened survivors, and they discover a supply of a strange yogurt elixir.  Soon the survivors mutate into ‘Slime Heads,’ murderous creatures possessed by the spirits of the dead.  The mutants’ efforts to resist the addictive elixir are tested when a mercenary force invades Slime City.”
 
B-Movie fans have a lot to get excited about with Slime City Massacre.  It’s equal parts sensual and subversive, offering up a dose of sex and violence that’s likely not to be forgotten soon.  (Seriously, this has some of the gooiest sex without body fluids probably captured on film.)  Though I found the narrative to kinda/sorta veer off the tracks a bit in the second half – with far too many developments getting too little screen time – it was still the kind of homegrown cinematic shlock true film nerds and bargain basement Horror fans have been happily discovering since the dawn of Beta and VHS.  Honestly, we just don’t see enough of this stuff these days, and that’s a sad testament of our times.
 
Cory (played by Kealan Patrick Burke) and Alexa (Jennifer Bihl) are survivors who’ve spent their time squatting from one place to the next in Slime City.  As fate would have it, they happen across a run-down building that finally offers them a bit of security, only to discover that it’s already been claimed by Mason (Lee Perkins) and Alice (the fabulous Debbie Rochon).  After a tense exchange, the four agree to terms to share the space, so long as everyone agrees to help out in foraging for supplies which have been growing increasingly scarce.
 
Before you know it (and perhaps a bit too conveniently, but this is a movie, after all), Cory and Mason stumble across a huge stash of unclaimed whiskey and bottled yogurt.  Satisfied their troubles are over (at least temporarily), the two men haul a small supply of the goods back to their hideout, break open the stock, and a good time is had by all.  Once their stomachs are full, it’s time for some carnal attraction … and this is where Slime City certainly begins to earn its name.  Something in the hooch has each of the two couples soon oozing colorful slime from their pores.  They become – for lack of a better phrase – almost lascivious Teletubbies, each with their own color scheme.  Furthermore, they start experiencing some even darker desires, ones that can seemingly only be properly satiated through the spilling of blood, and this is a very deadly development for opportunists who’ve set their sights on the gentrification of their destroyed borough.
​

Simultaneously, Slime City develops another plotline, this one rendered in black-and-white.  Nicole (the stunning Brooke Lewis Bellas) is rescued from a life on the streets by a small urban cult involving a kinda/sorta fetishistic worship of the human flesh, and it just so happens that her savior Zachary (Craig Sabin) is the alchemical mastermind behind the bottled goods found wreaking havoc in the future.  While precisely where and what these concoctions were meant to be used for is a bit elusive, there’s just enough groundwork laid to spell out mixing them together is not a good thing, spelling certain doom for Cory, Mason, and company.   Nicole and Zachary’s vignettes are spaced out throughout the picture, and they largely either mirror or provide greater context to what’s taking place in movie time.
 
While some of that might sound a bit confusing, it makes perfect sense (or as much as is necessary) to give this Massacre its broader perspective.  Suffice it to say there’s an awful lot more that occurs, and some of it doesn’t quite get the level of explanation I felt it deserved.  For example, the slime seemingly effects people differently: Alice spends a chunk of the film reduced to little more than a head floating in a bathtub full of orange goo (even has sex that way, if you can believe that!), only to eventually re-emerge as a full-bodied woman … with an added vertical mouth slit where her sternum should be!  Though this late-breaking twist made little sense, that didn’t stop Lamberson from putting this new set of chompers to good use.  (This is a Horror film, after all.)
 
Honestly, I think what impressed me most about Massacre was its ambitiousness.
 
While others who dissect films (like I do) might take time and space to quibble over the usual gripes associated with reviewing low-budget productions, I’ll admit that Lamberson’s film kept pushing forever onward.  Like the little engine that could, this one got a head a steam after its set-up and kept churning and churning and churning for even more.  Some of its twists and turns might’ve missed the grounding they deserved, but the storyteller and his cast of characters kept everything flowing at a clip wherein the action never bogged down or the weaknesses of a performance here or there got in the way.  Rather, everyone involved pushed through to the big finish – one complete with more gray matter (Pink? Blue? Orange?) than studio productions ever attempt.
 
Their loss is fandom’s gain.
​

Lastly, I’d be remiss in my duties as editor-in-chief if I failed to mention Massacre’s accolades.  At the 2010 B-Movie Film Festival (held in New York), actress Brooke Lewis Bellas took home top honors in the category of ‘Best Actress.’  At the 2010 Eerie Horror Fest (held in northwestern Pennsylvania), actress Debbie Rochon was awarded the trophy in the category of ‘Best Actress.’  And for the 2010 PollyGrind Underground Film Festival Of Las Vegas, director Lamberson absconded with the coveted ‘Grand Jury Prize’ when he was proclaimed the ‘Biggest Baddest Mother of the PollyGrind.’  Congratulations all around for a job well done!
 
Slime City Massacre (2010) was produced by Slaughtered Lamb Productions and Medallion Movies.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) was coordinated via the good people at Media Blasters.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I thought the sights and sounds to this release were very good consistently; in a few sequences, the musical tracking was a bit louder than was necessary, but that’s chump change in the overall experience.  As for the special features?  Wow!  This 2-disc set includes an audio commentary from the cast and crew; a ninety-minute behind-the-scenes production documentary; a small handful of making-of shorts; bloopers; production stills; and the theatrical trailer.  It’s a fabulous collection for folks who like to spend some time with this sort of thing.
 
Recommended, but with the following caveat …
 
As I always caution readers, independent film – most especially Indie Horror – certainly isn’t everyone’s cup of tea (or is that blood?).  Often times, these flicks do not have the kind of budget required to bring top-tier practical and visual effects technicians to work on them … but I’ve found in many cases that less-is-more, especially if the supporting story and players give it their all.  Slime City Massacre – in total – needed a bit stronger script in the second half to more fully service the solid foundation of the first if it wanted to deliver the total package.  The finale is filled with some narrative shorthand in a few places – developments aren’t as clearly spelled out, leaving some of these changes appearing more ‘magical’ than they were organic … but I still had more fun with this than probably most.  Why?  Well, I appreciate efforts wherein everyone’s heart was up there in the lights.  And once I saw those disembodied brains crawling across the warehouse floor?  I knew I was in the right place.
 
In the interests of fairness, I was provided a complimentary Special Edition DVD of Slime City Massacre (2010) by an adoring fan of SciFiHistory.Net under no pre-condition to produce a review; and the contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

Here’s the truth, folks: I don’t revere George A. Romero’s Night Of The Living Dead nearly as much as I probably should.
 
I know, I know, I know.  I’m an odd duck, and I’ve never argued otherwise, nor would I ever.  As I’ve long tried to be as clear as possible on this point, Horror movies just don’t scare me the way they do other folks.  Typically, I need more of an idea to inspire me to be genuinely up-in-arms over anything, and the slowly-closing-in-lumbering-zombie films just don’t have the stuffing to frighten me.  Is it because I’m a good runner?  That may play into it.  Is it because I’m a nihilist?  Well, I hope that wouldn’t be the case.  Is it because I figure a legitimate zombie apocalypse will never take place?  Maybe.
 
What I do have is an incredible amount of R-E-S-P-E-C-T for the feature.  Let me tell you why.
 
For the uninformed, Romero’s Night isn’t the first film to explore zombies.  Many film scholars credit that to 1932’s White Zombie – starring the great Bela Lugosi in a key role, I’ve seen and reviewed it right here – but I have read about a few other flicks that kinda/sorta flirted with zombie-like creations or creatures before even that.  The difference in those early days was that there really were no hard and fast rules about what such a thing was, would be, and/or might become … and – for all intents and purposes – Romera’s film deserves an awful lot of the credit for ushering the modern era of zombiehood.  It had rules.  It made the horde a force of nature.  And it never relented.
 
Also (and, again, I’m going on my limited research into this unique group of Horror films), Night was I think the first time audiences were faced with a societal collapse tied directly to these monsters.  The resulting chaos as explored in the film – both the circumstances on the farm as well as the accompany news radio and television broadcasts – elevated the level of terror to something exponentially greater than anything seen before.  On film, it’s one thing to flee for one’s life from a vampire, a werewolf, or a thing with gills.  Having to do that from an entire town, an entire county, or an entire state?  This was new territory the writer/director mapped out, and – as we all know today – storytellers almost rabidly took to the premise, so much so that decades later it’s still a phenomenon that interests (and frightens) audiences.
 
Considering Night as a stand-alone experience, it’s about as bare bones as you can get.
​

Ben (Duane Jones) finds his way to a secluded farmhouse where he meets Barbra; together, they seal themselves into the home in a bid for protection against the growing horde of undead slowly surrounding the place.  Honestly, you can’t get simpler than that – a locked house story wherein there are mysteries inside and out – though it spools out perhaps a bit predictably in a few sequences.  But Romera uses the technology of the day – the aforementioned radio and TV – to move his story into deeper waters, giving the ordeal a life beyond what’s under a single roof and a level of tension that remained constant.
 
Night was independently produced, and – as most indie features – it carries with it a bit of messaging.
 
Depending upon one’s interpretation, the film could be said to be anti-Establishment (especially if the flesh-eaters are viewed as the possible result of living in society).  When I’ve come up against that argument in groups, I’m quick to point out – however – that the zombies seem to work only effectively as a team; individually, they’re outrun, outgunned, outmaneuvered, etc.  I do concede that the group of survivors inevitably fall apart because of their unwillingness to cooperate with one another, so maybe it’s really all a vicious circle.
 
Whether one agrees with it or not, racial division could be cited as part of Night’s fabric as well.  While no character spends any great amount of time commenting on such differences, there’s a clear level of distrust between Ben (who is black) and Harry (played by Karl Hardman, who is white).  It’s fair to suggest that both are belligerent to one another – Harry’s indifference specifically directed at his kinda/sorta adversary nearly costs Ben his life on more than a single occasion – so the suggestion of racist behavior deserves an examination.
 
Lastly, there’s no denying that Night’s ending – one that sees Ben surviving the ordeal only to be accidentally shot dead by his “saviors” – might imply that life and its accompanying struggles have an inherent meaninglessness to them.  No matter what one faces and no matter how hard any battle is fought (won or lost), each of us is still destined for an ending that scares the Hell out of us.  What we did?  It won’t matter.  What we achieved?  It was fleeting.  If the best we can hope for is to be gone from a simple mistake, then let’s make it quick and possibly painless – like that fateful shot-in-the-brain Romero defines as the only way to stop a walker – as opposed to spending a night exhausting oneself in an uphill campaign.
 
As I said in the opening, my take on this Night is far from the norm, and it’s certainly pretty far off from one who appreciates quality genre projects as much as I do.  While I always give the flick the respect I believe it’s owed – I’ll even give it a thumbs up when reflecting on its goodness – it’s still one I rarely throw on when I’m in the mood for a good scare.

​-- EZ

Despite what some of you think (based on my emails!), I'm just as human as the next blogger, and what that means to me is that -- in the vast pantheon of performers, writers, directors, etc. -- there are going to be folks whose work -- for whatever reason -- just doesn't resonate as much with me as it does with others.  You know what I mean?  There's no denying great performances when you see them -- and I've no doubt that each and every talent has his or her share of good ones and great ones -- but occasionally each of us needs something a bit more to 'click' with a player.

That was always my case with Leslie Jordan.

No matter what I saw him in -- the fellow's career is a wealth of mainstream stuff, but he did give genre fans a glimmer of his gifts here and there -- I always thought he did good (if not great) work ... and, yet, I just never quite connected with him.  There's always this indefinable quality about acting -- something that brings fans closer to the actors and actresses they admire more than others -- and this one just escaped me.

Now ...

I want to be perfectly blunt here: I'd still argue that the man was a bona fide genius who knew his brand and delivered on it each and every opportunity.  I'm offering the above out of my respect for his persona -- of which I've seen plenty as my lovely wife was a huge, huge fan of his internet stuff, and this guy was arguably one of the funniest dudes of his generation (and I mean THAT with absolutely no reservation at all).  This guy was downright hilarious to watch talk about his life, his work, what he did today, why exercise fails him, what he did during COVID, etc.  Seriously ... I encourage anyone reading this today to seek out his Instagram and Twitter stuff before it disappears into the great beyond ... it's some damn funny stuff.

So while his work may've never quite tickled my fancy, I'll admit unabashed love for who he was as a human being.  That's how I'll remember him, and that's how I think he should be revered.  He was a man who opened up doors to share a helluva lot of himself with friends, fans, family, and beyond; and how many of us can say they've ever really accomplished the same?

Dare I say: the world's a colder place without him?

Prayers are extended to the friends, fans, and family of Leslie Jordan.

​-- EZ

Horror flicks with a gimmick are really tough sells for me as a reviewer.
 
My issue with them tends to revolve around just how believable that gimmick is and gets explored over the course of the film.  Freddy Krueger works because its foundation is not only solid but creative as well as the fact that the screen cast is put through a series of bloody misadventures consistent with the projected reality.  The same thing could be said for Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers (in varying degrees), while intellectual properties like the Saw franchise and the Cube universe occasionally stray too far into developments and circumstances requiring a bit too expansive a suspension of disbelief.  This doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy them – I do – but it does mean that I’ll likely draw the line and make them only a single-time-viewing as opposed to anything I might discover anew years later.
 
Furthermore, this highlights why I do tend to struggle with motion pictures centered on the more conventional slashers.  The ‘fresh kills’ of these flicks do tend to find themselves rather easily in situations wherein they’re another notch in the killer’s belt, and even audiences over time have come to identify these ‘players’ too stupid to turn on the lights and foil the darkness required for the deed to be done.  They’ll go out – alone, unarmed, maybe half-naked, practically inviting their own bloody destruction – when hunkering down is the best (and seemingly obvious) course of action.  Either their ignorance or the disinterest of the screenwriter creating them is too big a flaw for me to overlook.
 
That’s why I had a rough time with Satan’s Little Helper (2004).  Honestly, the film had a bit of the good with the bad, somehow managing to straddle that fine line a bit too closely for me.  Though I loved its structure – that of a killer conducting his own hunts on Halloween with a bit of uncharacteristic assistance from a dubious fresh-faced Trick’or’Treater – it bit off more than it could chew from its confectionary center when a bit more dripping red stuff was really all that was needed.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
​

From the product packaging:
“Nine-year-old Douglas Whooly is obsessed with the handheld video game ‘Satan’s Little Helper,’ and annoyed that the attention of his big sister Jenna is being distracted by her new boyfriend Alex.  These two concerns collide on Halloween, when Douglas witnesses a serial killer in a devil mask posing his victims like outdoor All Hallow’s Eve displays.  Not comprehending how real the carnage is, Douglas becomes this Satan’s little helper – and that’s very bad news for Alex, for Douglas and Jenna’s mom Merril, and ultimate for their entire town.”
 
One of Horror’s greatest challenges is to know when enough is enough, and Satan’s Little Helper is a prime example of why restraint should be more greatly exercised.  While it’s largely a conventional slasher picture with a twist – i.e. disguising our evildoer as a rogue, mask-wearing cretin joining the kiddies out for their most important night on the town – writer/director Jeff Lieberman’s tale rather quickly chucks logic out the window in favor of presenting the unstoppable serial marauder who can be practically anywhere at once … or whenever the script requires.
 
In short, Satan Man – as he’s been dubbed by viewers – merely goes about knifing the innocent with wild abandon.  In the build-up to his storied screen adventure, he’s shown situating the dead on their front lawns in displays more macabre than the last; and at this point I started wondering whether or not some of the passersby might take a bit more interest in what’s so obviously not decoration.  Really?  Are these folks – young and old alike – really that stupid?  Or is this just the way the ball bounces?  Before you know it, he’s been from one side of town to the other, killed a growing number of citizens, essentially disabled an entire police force, terrorized an adults-only shindig, taken a bullet through the hand (that’s cleared up entirely only a few scenes later), swapped out to another costume, and … what?  He's just getting started?
 
Why, Jason Voorhees is blushing!
 
To a degree, viewers might be able to accept young Doug’s naivety.  After all, he’s a kid.  He’s only nine.  He’s likely lived a somewhat sheltered life … but soon we’re expected to believe that all of these folks taking knives to the chest and stomach … why, they’re just playing along with Satan’s holiday pranks?  Really?  The whole town?  Once Satan and Doug begin running down folks in the street via a ride in a wayward shopping cart it becomes clear that Doug’s got far more emotional problems than just an unhealthy addiction to video games: he’s completely bereft of reality!  What serial killer wouldn’t be smitten with the little urchin?  It’s a match made … in Hell!
 
Setting aside the narrative quibbles, Helper does benefit from some curious performances.
​

Critical favorite Amanda Plummer gets good marks as the great American housewife who seems a bit too self-involved with her humdrum existence to notice the world bleeding out around her.  There’s a quirkiness to her work here that might push boundaries as well – certainly none greater than those mentioned above – but it’s easy to set that aside once she’s roped (taped?) into serving as our killer’s escort to the local masked ball.  A wild creation herself, she’s along for the ride even if it kills her.  Also, the great Katheryn Winnick fills out both her pirate wench costume as well as the requirements as the closest thing to a heroine we’re ever likely to see in a Horror film.  She’s smart when she needs to be, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to last.  Once she recognizes the stakes raised by the killer on the prowl, she saddles up nicely into a leading performance, though she does (like most young women) succumb to her worst instincts in the film’s closing scene.
 
Curiously, Helper ends with the suggestion for a return visit to the wide, wide world of Satan Man shenanigans, but – to my knowledge – none ever developed.  Thinking of this outing as an origins picture isn’t a bad way to endure it; and I suspect a follow-up might’ve been smarter as the business of clarifying the villain’s desires in this cinematic universe was well out of the way.  As a one-off adventure?  Meh.  It’s all just a bit too formulaic in spots – especially those defying logic – so perhaps you can think of it as a ‘trick’ instead of a real ‘treat.’
 
Satan’s Little Helper (2004) was produced by Satan’s Little Company LLC and Intrinsic Value Films.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the fine folks at Synapse Films.  As for the technical specifications?  Though I’m no trained video expert, I will say that I found the sights and sounds to be quite good; there were a few sequences with some grain and a loss of focus, so much so that I wondered if perhaps these were once excised footage re-inserted into more of a director’s cut … but there’s no indication on the packaging of that.  As for the special features?  The disc boasts an audio commentary from writer/director Lieberman; some vintage behind-the-scenes content; a 30-minute making-of documentary; and a few other nice bits.  It’s a solid collection for fans who like the extras.  Well done.
 
Mildly recommended.
 
While Satan’s Little Helper is, at times, mildly interesting and occasionally clever – mainly because it has a good Horror/Comedy structure – I didn’t feel it rose anywhere near the level of a repeat performance.  For me, it falls into that category of “a good first attempt, but it’ll likely be better in the remake.”  Mostly, I chalk it up like that because there were too many moments where the characters’ collective stupidity was just too high for me to accept as authentic.  (FYI: if you’re really that dumb, then maybe you deserve to be the next victim!)  Still, some good performances do save it from being an entirely insipid affair.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Synapse Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray DVD of Satan’s Little Helper (2004) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

​It goes without saying – though I am about to say it, for the record – that perhaps the entire Game Of Thrones franchise has become a property that’s kinda/sorta hard to love.
 
Like so, so many, I was there when this serialized adaptation began on HBO: the pay cable channel began all the way back in 2011, bringing to bold visual life the George R.R. Martin Fantasy saga for television audiences.  Over eight fun-filled seasons, viewers got to know a bit about the Seven Kingdoms, serving witness to some of the best battles – both physically and emotionally – brought about by the families and factions within this multi-layered universe.  At times, it played the stakes very simply – serving up little more than an old-fashioned good vs evil story (but with a little incestual rape thrown in for discerning watchers) – but I always felt the writers even wanted the little moments to be grander.  Such is the nature of mythmaking, and they probably got it right more often than they got it wrong.
 
“The Black Queen” – the tenth and final episode in House Of The Dragon’s inaugural season (the first in what has been promised to be an almost endless series of sequels and prequels) – has finally aired officially.  Yes, I followed some breaking news over the weekend about how it was illegally leaked online early; despite what the official word from HBO has been, I’m inclined to believe that was a media stunt mean to hype up the season finale because that’s exactly the kind of thing companies do to create news from the – ahem – un-newsworthy.  (Is that a word?)  I don’t think Dragon has had anywhere near the darling press its predecessor received, and I think this likely has its showrunners a bit perplexed.
 
In any event …
 
As is my custom, I try to spend very little time rehashing plot points as I think that stuff gets done to death these days.  I will say that “The Black Queen” was probably one of the season’s better scripted hours, which is a very good sign for the direction of the series.
​
Unlike other episodes, this one had a very clear through-line – one that made perfect sense each and every step of the way – and, while one may’ve disagreed with a royal decision here and there, it was still made in the best interest of the crown.  Perhaps now that all hell is broken loose, the screenwriters can finally get about the business of crafting more coherent and spirited hours within these Fantasy kingdoms.  Given the fact that they also – in unison with the behind-the-scenes technical wizards – delivered as much spectacle as they did substance, maybe audiences can assume the show to finally be about something; so much of this first season (which I’ll likely review in a separate piece later this week) felt like it was either floundering for direction or waiting for some seminal piece of fictional history to occur … and I think we’ve found that with one character’s big demise.
​

Again, I think it’s safe to say that Dragon was and probably is going to be about little more than war.  From the show’s first moments, it always looked like tensions were bound to come to a head.  At face value, so much of this first season was about place setting – where we are, who these players are going to be, where they folks may just be heading, etc.  Once those obligatory events have been dispensed, the Targaryen family can now truly get down to the matter at hand … namely trying to put the true heir to the Seven Kingdoms on the Iron Throne, which is the biggest part and parcel of this season finale’s plot.
 
Also, I’d be remiss in my duties as critic if I failed to mention that the undercurrent to “The Black Queen” was easily identified: happy accidents – or ‘unhappy ones’ is a better descriptor – are the true shakers and makers of this whole, regal affair.
 
Rhaenyra never asked to rule; it was somewhat ‘gifted’ to her by a happy father.  Likewise, most other kingly and queenly players in all of Martin’s world never quite sought power; and those who have wanted it continually seem to be repeatedly denied it.  (Here’s looking at you, Daemon.)  While each person – male or female – ascending to their respective throne might ultimately have a reason to embrace it – for good or bad – it’s very clear that there are weights and consequences to being in the ruling class … and those factors will extract a heavy, heavy toll in exchange for making these tough, life-altering decisions.
 
Alas, the greatest weakness to this season finale is that we spent time with characters that, sadly, we never quite got to know so well that their demise ends up feeling less meaningful.  (No, I won’t spoil it, but I think it was a bit predictable.)  Had the writers crafted a bit more for a few of these smilers, then their existence – and the end of it – would’ve had greater impact on audiences.  Yet in a world wherein the movers and shakers only appear interested in shifting the various pieces about on their respective chessboards, I guess it’s perfectly appropriate.  Don’t get attached to that rook or that pawn or this queen because, inevitably, your opponent is going to snatch it away from you when you’re not looking.
 
The king is dead.
 
Long live the Queen.
 
And she looks pissed.

​-- EZ

I have always been a fan of traditional monster movies, and I can tell you why rather easily: at their foundation, they’re always an exploration of the monster itself … the very thing that never asked to be brought into existence.
 
Understandably, it’s easy for me – as a viewer – to generate an appreciable amount of sympathy for the creature.  Spawned usually from the mind of a mad man – or, in this case, a mad woman – the thing knows nothing of its history, its hunger, or its unique place in the however big or small this particular cinematic universe might be.  It just knows that it is, and it acts out on the base impulses that are part and parcel of its crooked or bastardized DNA.  Lastly, it never intended to be evil.  Hell, it likely has little to no concept of what good and evil are; instead, it lives each day in pursuit of filling whatever void science has left in its mortal and immortal soul.
 
So, yes, I can perfectly accept how an overlook little film from the late 1980’s like The Kindred might very well have found its own place in this world.  It has all of the usual trappings fans of such frights desire, and it serves them up at a rate that will likely keep the interest of even newcomers who stumble across it on cable or for purchase.  Though it still might miss the mark that would make it a truly successful creature feature, I believe it’s close enough for me to give it a mild thumbs up.  Its practical effects alone are quite good, and – if you can overlook too many understated performances – you just might shriek at its respectable finish.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s product packaging:
“Kim Hunter is Dr. Amanda Hollins, a molecular scientist who calls on her son to eliminate all evidence of her genetic experiments … most specifically her ‘Anthony Journals.’  Dr. Philip Lloyd, an acquaintance of Hollins who is familiar with her experiments, wants to continue her studies no matter the cost!  John heads to his isolated childhood home with a group of friends to uncover his mother’s research and destroy it all …”

​There’s a bit more, but I’ll leave at that as I believe that’s enough to properly frame the narrative.  Suffice it to say, The Kindred is little more – at heart – than a monster movie, one complete with its own Frankenstein and creator, and it functions perfectly fine on that level.  It may not offer anything new to the genre, and it may not deliver all of its developments with logical acumen, but it works … and sometimes that’s the best that can be said about some dated theatrical experiences.
​

Because Jeffrey Obrow and Stephen Carpenter’s Horror film truly centers its on monster mythos, it’s probably been affectionately embraced by the genre’s more ardent fans, although largely overlooked by the casual contingent.  Most of this is likely owed to the fact that, even though the production has some Hollywood heavyweights like Kim Hunter and Rod Steiger in it, the flick feels far too often like a middle-of-the-road television idea that somehow got elevated to the silver screen.  David Allen Brooks – as the lead, Dr. John Hollins – is a far too reserved in how he approaches everything in his life, be it nurturing his relationship with longtime girlfriend Sharon Raymond (Talia Balsam) or going toe-to-toe with the goo-covered behemoth living under his mother’s cavernous back porch.  He shows little passion at every turn – as do a lot of the secondary players – and one might suspect just how such lethargy existed on a set supposedly weighed down with creatures.
 
Though much of Steiger’s work might be chalked up to the obligatory ‘mad scientist’ role, the actor certainly delivered the right amount of megalomaniacal angst.  His Dr. Philip Lloyd didn’t so much as bat an eye at the prospect of surrendering a probable whistleblower to the demons living beneath his corporate offices of Geneticell.  Perhaps a bit more scene chewing by the rest of the cast could’ve elevated this one through its duller moments?  The reliable Peter Frechette hits some good notes of panic and abject terror as one of Hollins’ gang of brainiacs; and yet Balsam, Timothy Gibbs, Julia Montgomery, and Bunky Jones are largely wasted in what feels like coasting on fumes while waiting for the monster to show up.  They might have a good bit here and there, true, but it needed a bit more ‘umph’ to sell the sizzle when this weekender-cabin-like home stood in for what really needed to be a Frankenstein castle.
 
Also, The Kindred boasts an early performance by the usually reliable genre favorite Amanda Pays.  In it, she plays scientists Melissa Leftridge, a woman with a shadowy past that might just be the critical link toward Hollins coming to grips with just what wicked medicine is now deceased mother was practicing out in the sticks.  Though I thought Pays handled herself well through some of the script’s meatier moments (there’s an incredible transformation sequence wherein the actress morphs from woman to – ahem – fish), she spends far too much of the time on ‘pause’ like the rest of the cast.  It’s almost as if everyone assembled were honestly waiting for the creature to show up so they could be in a Horror movie; too many smaller segways just needed a bit more something.
 
Monster movies must function on efficiency.
​
There has to be highs – or the lows mean nothing – but the lows can’t be sacrificed as merely narrative filler at the expense of waiting for the visual payoff.  A glance at IMDB.com tells me that the script worked through a lot of hands here, and I can’t help but wonder if something was lost with each iteration.  Each new draft may’ve trimmed some of the substance that sparked the initial fire, putting in its place lesser moments that served to give additional screen time to things other than Anthony, the name of the fateful creature.  What matters most in monster movies is and always will be the monster: in that regard, at least The Kindred got something right … I just wish it could’ve done that more consistently across its 90+ minutes.
​

Lastly, I’d be remiss in my duties as editor-in-chief for SciFiHistory.Net if I failed to mention that the picture enjoyed its 35th anniversary in 2022, making this new release certainly one well-intended for fans of it.  With an all-new restoration on the disc as well as a newly produced documentary that features a few of the faces from the screen and a good amount of information from folks who made all of it possible behind, I suspect the release will do very well with those who follow film favorites throughout the ages.
 
The Kindred (1987) was produced by Kindred Limited Partnership.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the fine folks at Synapse Films.  As for the technical specifications?  The packaging boasts that this is an all-new 4K high-definition remaster of an unrated version of the feature film; while I’m not trained video expert, I thought the accompanying sights and sounds were probably as glorious as could be.  (A few dark sequences have a bit of grain, but honestly I think that’s to be expected with some efforts.)
 
Lastly, if you’re looking for special features, then buckle up!  According to the advertising insert, this release includes:

• A new 5.1 English stereo surround remix (along with the original 2.0 mono);
• An audio commentary with directors Obrow and Carpenter;
• An all-new documentary on the making-of the picture (it runs about 50 minutes, and it’s very balanced between behind-the-scenes folks as well as onscreen talent);
• A compilation of creature effects from Michael McCracken, Jr’s work;
• Stills gallery;
• Original storyboards;
• The original theatrical trailer; and
• The promotional TV spots.

It’s certainly a well-rounded assortment of materials, and I suspect fans of this film – as well as those who appreciate practical effects work – will want to spend some time with it.
 
Recommended.
 
Because I’ve always been a fan of traditional monster movies, I probably appreciate an otherwise forgettable flick like The Kindred (1987) a bit more than most.  The performances – while nothing special and maybe even a bit comical by today’s standards – aren’t all that grand.  The setting, situation, and developing circumstances work only if you don’t practice any kind of intellectual ‘digging’ into them.  Setting those quibbles aside, I still would’ve liked to spend more time with the picture’s central monsters.  Having a fondness for what’s been achieved with practical effects and creature production, I just thought I saw too little on them in these trim 93 minutes.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Synapse Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Kindred (1987) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ