Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas (1998)

I've had a copy of Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas sitting on my bookshelf for years now, but only recently did I finally sit down and actually read it. My reason for avoiding the book for such a long time was because in college I took a number of creative writing classes populated by pretentious English majors who seemed to view the book as some sort of 20th century version of the Bible or the Koran, and Thompson as a Jesus or Muhammad figure. In that environment, it seemed a little too trendy to be a fan of the book, so I basically resisted reading it all throughout college, and it sat and collected dust.

After plowing through it last week, though, I have to say that those pompous English Lit nerds were absolutely right. It's a wonderful book, one of the most instantly quotable that I've ever read, and filled with hilarious anecdotes and two unforgettable characters, as Thompson (taking on the persona of Raoul Duke) sets forth on a drug-addled journey of self-destruction throughout Las Vegas, accompanied by his loutish attorney, Dr. Gonzo, all in the name of finding the (hazily defined, at least in the book) American Dream.

Fear and Loathing is still somewhat controversial to this day, as some critics have inevitably condemned the book as a glorification of hard drug abuse and deviant behavior in general. However, lurking underneath all of the mescaline- and acid-induced insanity of the narrative is the book's major point: it's an indictment of an entire generation that turned to mind-altering hallucinogens as a means of finding what they believed was a more acceptable means of dealing with society's problems. Instead of making a difference, though, this generation simply faded slowly into a culture of "permanent cripples" and "failed seekers", as Thompson puts it, and their reliance on drugs as a means of escape simply accelerated their downfall.

While the book is one of the funniest I've ever read, it's this underlying theme that gives it a somewhat depressing undercurrent. Thompson's non-stop indulgence in mind-altering drugs is a sad case of a man trying to escape from the pain of reality, of the everyday troubles that come with being human, and from the terrifying knowledge that the generation and the counter-culture that he so loved being a part of (and that he once believed to be meaningful) is becoming increasingly irrelevant as the 1960's passes further and further on in the rear-view mirror.

Almost 30 years later, Thompson's book was finally made into a feature film after a seemingly endless time stuck in development hell. The book itself is mostly autobiographical and written by a man who was tripping half the time, so perhaps it's unfair to compare a book like this to a movie adapted from it, but screw it, I'm going to anyway.

Terry Gilliam, the visual genius behind Brazil and Time Bandits, was probably the only director imaginable who could have brought this film to the big screen and made it watchable. Gilliam's own unique visual style, with his staple swirling camera shots and bizarre close-ups, seems perfectly suited to a story that's essentially one long acid trip. The oddball humor that usually accompanies Gilliam's films also fits in right at home here, as the Duke character spends most of the movie moving about in ways that recall Monty Python's Ministry of Silly Walks.

The film follows the novel pretty faithfully, in that it's an episodic tale with something barely resembling a real plot. It essentially follows Duke and Dr. Gonzo from one drug-induced misadventure to the next, terrorizing any hotel and casino personnel who stand in their way. The "story" is really just a means of acting as a segue-way between one bout of depravity and excess to another.

Johnny Depp himself is ideal as Thompson, the writer who always seems to be able to make rational observations about the situation that he's in and the trouble he's causing, despite the fact that his mind is bending every step of the way. He has Thompson's look and talk down to perfection, and the ever-present, iconic cigarette holder is a hoot. Benicio Del Toro is sufficiently over-the-top as Thompson's utterly degenerate attorney, about as loathsome a character as could ever be imagined, and you don't have to imagine very hard because he's incredibly based on a real guy.

While the film as a whole is certainly entertaining and funny enough, hardcore fans of Thompson's book probably won't get much out of it, and rightly so. Part of the joy of the book is in Thompson's wacky descriptions of everything that goes on, and in the middle of all of this insanity, he still offers surprisingly profound and tragic insight into the human condition. Much of what makes the book so effective is our ability to experience what the narrator is going through in his prose, to see this bizarre acid world in our mind's eye. This effect is sadly lost in the film.

Indeed, most of the stranger moments in the book are just better left to the imagination, like the scene in a casino where Thompson begins to hallucinate that all of the guests are turning into reptiles. Thompson describes this moment in the book with frantic terror, and it's one of the book's great highlights. In the film, Gilliam gives us slimy, animatronic puppets that render the scene more disturbing than anything else, so the effect is muted.

In all, it's probably true that this is the best that a film adaptation of Fear and Loathing could ever possibly turn out. Gilliam gave this a good shot, and it's a worthwhile viewing for some good laughs and anybody who is a fan of the director's work and not a serious follower of Thompson. The film does, though, have a fervent following, and I fear that the message of Thompson's book, about a culture sunk in a malaise of drug abuse and depravity, is completely lost to fans of the film. I think most fans will probably watch it and think it's about nothing more than two dumb guys getting doped out and destroying hotel rooms for two hours (I know that's what I thought upon first viewing), which is too bad.

I guess my underlying message here is: read the freaking book.

Blade Runner Deleted Scenes

The new collector's edition includes about 30 minutes or so of footage that was shot but dropped from the final film for various reasons. Other than the infamous "Holden and the Hospital" scene, none of this new cutting room floor footage has ever been seen by anybody, at least not to my knowledge.

Much of these new scenes are awesome, too, although many of them include more bad Harrison Ford voiceover work. Here is a list of some of my favorites, and some that stand out for one reason or another.


--Holden and the Hospital. This scene, where Deckard visits a fellow Blade Runner (Holden) who is being kept alive in an iron lung (he was critically injured at the beginning of the film by one of the fugitive replicants), has actually been floating around the Internet for years now, and I'm sure any hardcore BR fan has seen it myriad times. It essentially consists of Holden yelling at Deckard, and exists merely to move the plot along, so I can see why it was cut, though the design is, naturally, very well done. You can see the whole thing here.

--1187 Hunterwasser. When I saw this listed amongst the deleted scenes, I freaked out. I had read interviews with Brion James (he plays Leon, a bad replicant) in which the actor revealed that an alternate take had been planned for the scene in which Deckard and Gaff inspect Leon's apartment (where Deckard finds the snake scale). In this deleted take, it reveals, after Deckard and Gaff leave the apartment, that Leon had been hanging from the ceiling in the bathtub the entire time that the two Blade Runners were there. The concept sounded awesome, but apparently it hadn't been shot.

Wrong. It was shot and it's included here. It also has a completely different reveal of Gaff's little origami boner man that works way better, at least artistically. As Gaff and Deckard are getting ready to leave, you can see Gaff playing around with something in his hands. As the two leave, he sets it down, but we never see exactly what it is. Then Leon comes down from the bathtub and notices the little item Gaff left, which is revealed to be the little stick figure that represents Deckard's apparent, um, overexcitement with his work. It's a great scene.

--ESPER. The "ESPER" scene is slightly different, and starts out with Deckard ruminating over a photo of his estranged wife, who has apparently left him to go live off-world with some rich snob. It's the only mention anywhere of Deckard having a wife, and sort of builds on the idea that all the well-off people left Earth to live lives of luxury on colonies on other planets.

--Deckard Washes Up. This is only notable because it made me want to throw up. During the scene after Rachel saves Deckard, as Deckard is washing his face in the sink, we get a closeup of him pulling a big, bloody chunk of crap out of his nose, something I think we can all agree was thankfully left out of any prints of the film.

--Deckard/Rachel Love Scene. This scene is way more erotic than what we see in the movie, and Sean Young goes topless in a couple of shots. For you voyeurs, you can find it here.

--Metaphysics. A great scene in which Deckard is again in the hospital talking to Holden, but unbeknownst to both of them, they are being watched on a monitor by Gaff and Bryant. You can see it here. "I spit on metaphysics, Sir."

--Tyrell's Fate. My personal favorite, it shows Roy Batty and J.F. Sebastian as they are ascending the Tyrell building in an elevator, and getting past Tyrell's security protocol. After Batty kills Tyrell and Sebastian, he returns to the elevator, clutching Sebastian's coat. When the elevator stops again for a security check, a (creepy) female voice comes on and requests a clearance. Upon hearing the voice, Batty shouts, "Mom?", illustrating his deterioration into child-like status upon the killing of his "father" Tyrell. Rutger Hauer's performance in this scene is typically brilliant, and it's one I wish they had included in the final print.

Other deleted scenes flesh out the narrative a little more, give some background to the four replicants (including references to Batty's fighting near the Tanhauser Gate), and reveal that Batty and Leon killed Chew by sticking him in a freezer with no clothes on. A different version of the VK test on Rachel reveals that Deckard ran more questions than necessary on her simply to humor Tyrell, only to find out that she was, indeed, a replicant. There are also two versions of the "upbeat" ending, including one where Rachel tells Deckard she thinks they were "made for each other." Ho ho.

All in all, it's a pretty amazing collection of footage, and it's by far my favorite part of the new disc set.

Blade Runner: The Final Cut (2007)

It seems like I've been waiting my whole life for this. Ridley Scott's sci-fi masterpiece Blade Runner is probably my favorite film of all time. It's an amazing visual accomplishment, probably the most amazing film just to look at, with fire-breathing smokestacks and monolithic super-skyscrapers forming a lurid vision of a future metropolis where manufactured replicants show more emotion than the world's human inhabitants.

Unfortunately, until two months ago, the only print of Blade Runner readily available was a crappy snapcover Warner Brothers DVD version of the Director's Cut that included a terrible scene-select menu and offered no special features or anything else of note. Seeing as how BR has an incredibly colorful (and contentious) behind-the-scenes story and like a billion different versions, this pallid representation was totally unacceptable. The only thing we BR devotees could do was plug our noses and go read Paul M. Sammon's exhaustive making-of book, Future Noir, for the gazillionth time.

Enter December 2007, as the release of Ridley Scott's Final Cut gave all of us dateless Blade Runner nerds a reason to squeal with joy. This new five-disc collector's edition provided us with everything that we needed: all four previous versions of the film; a brand, spanking new documentary detailing the film's creation; an incredible collection of never-before-seen deleted scenes, and just an assload of general BR-related extra junk. I got the Final Cut for Christmas but only this past week have I been able to finally dive in and watch it. It's certainly been worth the wait.

I'm going to try to run a week-long series of sorts detailing all the good stuff that's included in the new collector's set, but for today I'm just going to run through the Final Cut itself, and talk about some of the major differences that I thought had the most effect, for better or worse.

For those who have never seen the film, it takes place in Los Angeles, 2019, and stars Harrison Ford as a sort of specialized cop who runs around the city trying to track down four missing, murderous replicants. Replicants are human clones created for slave labor on off-world colonies. If they break ranks or try to flee, they are immediately labeled a danger, and these Blade Runners are sent out to kill them. The problem is that the only way to distinguish them from other humans is by administering a dubious personality test. Naturally, Ford also falls in love with a replicant and this leads to various thematic and plot-related complications.

The history of the film's release is long and complicated, but I'll give you sort of a nutshell version. The original theatrical cut was released in 1982, to mixed critical reviews and a none-too-impressed mainstream audience. While most agreed it was brilliant visually, many thought the plot was murky and the pacing deadly slow. At first, it had a reputation as sort of a flop, but it started to gain more attention upon its VHS release and developed a substantial cult following in subsequent years.

Then, in 1992, Scott went back and made a bunch of changes. He dropped Harrison Ford's awful voiceover narration, replaced the original ending with a new, less cheesy one, and inserted a brand new dream sequence that gave rise to the hackneyed (in my opinion) idea that Deckard himself was a replicant. This version was released as the Director's Cut, and it put BR back on the map, as it was regarded as a huge improvement and has since become the quintessential cut. Chances are that if you've seen the film, you watched the Director's Cut.

The new Final Cut is essentially the same as the DC, only with some footage lifted from other versions inserted here and there. I actually saw it in theaters on Friday, which was pretty awesome, as the film's incredible production design looks amazing on the big screen. Here is a list of some of the new stuff inserted for the Final Cut that I thought had a noticeable impact on the final product.

--Much of the visual design has been digitally retouched, and this is the Final Cut's main asset. If you watch the DC nowadays, it's obvious during some of the scenes (especially the final Roy Batty chase scene) that the cityscapes are just matte paintings inserted in postproduction. Now, though, a lot of these special effects have been cleaned up and it looks great, definitely enhancing the film's overall visual brilliance.

--A lot of the more notorious goofs from the other versions have been fixed in the Final Cut, including (thankfully) the ridiculous stolen shots that comprise Roy Batty's first appearance on screen (in one, you can see a thumb on Batty's shoulder even though he's supposed to be standing by himself in a cramped phone booth). A number of lines have been redubbed to fix continuity errors, several scenes where wires are clearly showing on the flying cars have been fixed, and Joanna Cassidy's face has been digitally re-inserted during her memorable death scene (a bunch of nerds complained loudly about the fact that it was clearly a stunt double in the original versions).

Perhaps the most famous flub in Blade Runner is also fixed. In the previous cuts, Roy Batty, as he is dying at the end, symbolically releases a dove to fly off into a clear blue sky, even though it is clearly night in the movie. Scott has gone back and digitally inserted a new computer-generated night sky background to fit the time of day. Unfortunately, it looks awful and they should have just stuck with the blue sky for symbolic value or something.

--A new, albeit very brief, CGI shot of the unicorn is added to the now-famous dream sequence, for reasons that aren't clear to me. It looks ridiculous.

--A number of rare scenes from both the notorious Workprint edition and the International Cut are included. The stuff from the Workprint (I'll talk about that version later this week) mostly consists of footage from the "Animoid Row"/Zhora scene (including weird go-go dancers wearing hockey masks), and it's fitted seamlessly into the original narrative. It's pretty cool.

The stuff from the International Cut I'm actually very surprised they even included, because most of it is just a bunch of graphic violence that the studio didn't want shown here in the States. The new IC scenes don't add much other than shock value for those who haven't seen them. Most of it is just unneccesary, like an absolutely disgusting shot of Roy Batty sticking a nail through his hand, or when one of the replicants breaks Harrison Ford's nose in decidedly unsanitary fashion. Tyrell's death scene is also hideously violent, taken straight from the IC.

--Maybe it's just me, but it seems like most of the outdoors scenes in the Final Cut have a faint blue tint to them, like they were retouched with a different filter for this new version. It's pretty distracting, and takes away from the visuals, if you ask me, but it probably isn't really too noticeable unless you're a rabid BR dweeb like me.

In all, the Final Cut really doesn't change my opinion of the film in any way. I didn't expect to be blown away by any of the changes, especially since I'd seen most of them in different versions already. A lot of the new stuff is cool, but merely cosmetic. The film's main flaws- confusing story, muddled themes, boring leading man performance- are still there. The story still takes a backseat far away from the visuals, and Harrison Ford's character is still a cipher.

I still love the movie and think it's an amazing technical achievement, but honestly, when I sit down to watch it in the future, I'm probably going to just pop in the Director's Cut again.

Once again, I'm going to try to do a week-long BR fest detailing my experience being bombarded by all the awesome crap in the five-disc collector's edition, so stay tuned. Tomorrow we'll go into the incredible deleted scenes. Until then, though, let's finish with the awesome Final Cut trailer.

Death and Tarantino

As amazing as it seems, there is somebody out there with a fondness for Death Rides a Horse, the film we talked about yesterday, and he's like a billion times more famous than me. That's right, Quentin Tarantino, ever the fan of crappy movies from the '60's and '70's, inserted a number of references to Death in his brilliant film Kill Bill Vol. 1. Since the two movies have similar themes of revenge (served cold, no less), the reference is appropriate.

First, watch this trailer for the American release of Death Rides a Horse (a trailer which makes the film look totally awesome). Note the music on the soundtrack near the end...



Again, absolutely badass trailer. Now watch this short scene from Kill Bill 1...



That's right, it's the same damn music! When I first saw Kill Bill, I hadn't seen Death Rides a Horse, so I obviously didn't catch the reference. When I bought Kill Bill a year later, after I found Death in that Wal-Mart bargain bin, I heard that music riff and danced around like a giddy schoolgirl. Just the fact that Tarantino is referencing Death at all is awesome, but the context of that song (called "Death Rides a Horse" and composed by Ennio Morricone) in KB, as a lead-in to The Bride's final showdown with O-Ren Ishii, is just amazing.

The other major reference to Death Rides a Horse is in the Bride's flashback sequences. Every time she confronts one of her adversaries in the film, the camera zooms in to a closeup of her eyes and the screen goes a pale red, as her memory of the attack appears faintly in front of her (if you watch that short clip again you can see what I mean). This is a direct homage to Death Rides a Horse, as the hero, John Phillip Law, has exactly the same kinds of quick flashbacks when confronting the people he's out to take revenge on.

The "Bill" character in KB may also be referencing the hero Bill in Death. There's also a line in the trailer that reads, "The bandits who killed five defenseless people made one big mistake...they should have killed six" (awesome). That almost exact same line is said by Uma Thurman in Kill Bill 2.

Once again, I was totally amazed when I found out that Tarantino had paid homage to Death Rides a Horse, and in such an awesome way, in his Kill Bill movies. I mean, a famous director, a crappy old western. What were the odds?

Death Rides A Horse (1967)

Perhaps my greatest failing as a human being is my unflinching weakness for crappy spaghetti westerns from the '60's. I just can't get enough of them. When I'm flipping through the stations on a boring Saturday and see Jack Palance come on to the screen decked out in black cowboy hat and duster, sneering and mercilessly chewing scenery, it has some sort of hypnotic effect. Kryptonite, thy name is God's Gun.

As far as cheesy old westerns go, Death Rides A Horse is one of the all-time greats. On a pure artistic level, it's a pretty bad movie, the production values are shoddy, and some of the dialogue is banal beyond belief, but there's a certain weird charm here. It's like a Sergio Leone western without the talent. In a way, though, the film's badness is where the entertainment lies. It's kind of fun to just sit back and count the ways it mimics but never matches Leone (Ennio Morricone even does the score, probably just collecting a paycheck). It's like a cute little four-year-old holding a bat and trying to emulate his favorite baseball player; he looks silly, but hey, you gotta love him. At least he's trying.

The premise of Death Rides A Horse is fantastic. John Phillip Law plays Bill, a man who has lived the past 15 years obsessed with getting revenge on the five bandits who slaughtered his family and left him to die when he was just a young boy. One day he comes across a clue that could potentially lead him back on the murderers' trail, and that's when he meets up with just-released convict Lee Van Cleef (that great, hawk-nosed Western legend, better known as Angel Eyes in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly), who is looking for these same exact people, for very different reasons.




You can probably kind of guess where this is going. Yes, Van Cleef has connections to the group that murdered Law's family, and yes, he was there that night, and yes, this does lead to a bit of, um, awkwardness between the two allies. It also turns out that each of the bandits Law is gunning for have gained some sort of societal prominence (one is a powerful banker), so getting to them might not be so easy.

Death Rides A Horse had the potential, with maybe a bigger budget and a better director, to be legendary. There is so much that could have been done with the whole death motif, but unfortunately a lot of potential symbolism was ignored. Think about it. Law's character has done nothing, nothing, for the past 15 freaking years but dwell on his family's murder and plot revenge against the perpetrators. He's basically become the Grim Reaper. Don't you think the filmmakers could have run with this? Sort of like Pale Rider, only not as laughably pretentious.

All this is nitpicking, though. This is a fun film. As I said before, it isn't necessarily good, but there are a lot of neat little moments. Some highlights: the part when the bad guys torture Law by burying him up to his neck in sand in 100 degree weather, then placing a bowl of water just out of reach of his lips. Also great is a draw inside a bar in which Law tells the piano player to strike three chords, then blows his combatant away on the third note.

And check out this bit of dialogue, in a scene where Bill confronts a sleazy drifter who he realizes is one of the men he is after...

Bandit: What are you trying to say? That I am afraid?

Bill: You've got a stupid face, but you get it.

The Bandit then flips off his hat, revealing an earring that Bill, in a flashback, recalls one of the men wearing when his family was killed.

Bandit: Come on, hero. Let's you and me see which of us is afraid.

Bill, remembering the role this man played in the murder of his family, says nothing.

Bandit: Something the matter, hero? Have you decided to change your mind?

Bill: Yeah. I've decided to kill you.

Just badass. Bill then proceeds to shoot the guy in cold blood. The movie is chock-full of stuff like this. Some of the lines are awesome, like the ones above, while some are just dumb, but it's all in good fun.

So that's Death Rides A Horse, perhaps my favorite of the whole bad, low-budget Leone-knockoff western subgenre. I remember the day I fished it out of a $5 bargain bin at Wal-Mart. It has lived on in my dorky heart ever since. Tomorrow we'll look at another, more famous individual who also clearly shares my love for this movie: Quentin Tarantino.

Halloween III (1983): A Really Crappy Halloween Movie For Us All

Let's celebrate Halloween by paying tribute not to John Carpenter's 1978 classic film of the same title, but to its second sequel, Halloween III: Season of the Witch, which just may be the worst piece of shit to ever come out of a horror franchise.

First, let's begin with a little history. At the end of Halloween II, Michael Myers, the iconic killer of the series, is apparently blown to smithereens, along with his arch-foe, the heroic Dr. Loomis. For the next sequel, the producers, in a typically brilliant bit of Hollywood decision-making, decided to completely scrap the Michael Myers character (i.e. the whole reason the series was popular in the first place), and go in an entirely different direction. They decided that with each new Halloween movie, they'd tell an entirely different scary story with all new characters.

An interesting idea, in theory...except that when Halloween III was released, no one knew what the hell was going on. There was no Michael Myers, no Laurie Strode, no Sam Loomis. Instead, horror fans got this hackneyed story about some toymaker who wants to kill trick-or-treaters. There was no relation to the first two films whatsoever, and fans were absolutely pissed. Not surprisingly, the movie bombed and the filmmakers returned to the old Michael Myers well for the fourth installment, and every one thereafter.

Maybe audiences would have been able to get past all the confusion if the film were actually, you know, good. Unfortunately, it's just gawdawful. The plot centers around this crazy old toymaker who hatches this plot to kill thousands of little kids on Halloween (whatta guy) and replace them with robotic clones (???). To carry out this plot, he manufactures these weird masks that, when put on and then prompted by this really annoying TV commercial, crush the skull of whoever is wearing it. What a bastard.

I mean, there's fun bad taste, like the Evil Dead movies, and then there's just plain old bad taste, like a movie that seemingly takes great joy in showing us little kids getting offed in terrible ways by evil pumpkin masks. Who in God's name ever thought people would find this shit entertaining? It's just awful, mean-spirited stuff.

And that mask commercial that plays throughout the whole movie, the one that sends out the signal to the mask to do the job on the little kids? Oh lord. It's the most annoying thing I've ever heard in my life, and it plays over and over again. Once it starts playing, you'll want to put on one of those killer masks yourself so you can just end the misery of watching this abomination of a movie.

Well, there you have it, maybe the worst sequel to ever come out of any franchise, ever, and yes, that includes Scary Movie 2. Before I go, though, I'll let the good people at Silver Shamrock wish you a great Halloween night. Prepare to have this song ingrained in your head for the next month. Watch the Magic Pumpkin, bitches!

Happy Halloween!

The Right Kind Of Halloween Movie

One of my favorite Halloween pastimes is gathering a bunch of friends together and watching a bunch of scary movies. People laugh, people scream, some nerd (i.e. me) points out what's going to happen next, then gets a beer bottle tossed at his dome...it's just a jolly good time when you get a big group of people together to watch some scary movies. Of course, you have to be careful to get the right kind of scary movie for these little shindigs.

Let me explain with a little example from my past. One Halloween quite a few years back, a couple of friends and I rented three classic scary films: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Exorcist, and Halloween. We had all seen Halloween, which is essentially an All Hallow's Eve staple, but none of us had ever seen the other two movies. We were just charged up for some scares and some fun.

TCM was the first film we watched, and it lived up to our expectations, and then some. For those who haven't seen it, it's one of the most insane movie experiences ever. It's absolutely the perfect movie to watch at a Halloween party. It's got scares, it's funny, it's totally over the top, and we just ate it up. We were yelling and throwing food at the TV...just laughin' it up, having a great time. I remember my friend's mom walking in on us as we were just howling at the notorious "Grandpa" scene, one of the film's more bizarre moments (which is really saying something); she must have thought we were completely insane. To this day, it's one of my fondest memories.

The next movie we put in was The Exorcist, and we pretty much expected the same kind of thing. Boy, were we ever wrong. It was a complete contrast to the all-out wild horror of TCM. Whereas in that film every single moment was rife for rowdiness (a maniac runs around chasing people with a chainsaw and squealing like a pig...c'mon now!), during our viewing of The Exorcist you could hear a pin drop in that room. It was as if all the fun had just been completely sucked out of Halloween. Thanks a lot, William Friedkin.

Don't get me wrong, The Exorcist is a great film. It's just that it really isn't a good Halloween movie, because when you watch a movie on Halloween, you should really be enjoying yourself while being scared. The Exorcist is scary, for sure, but watching a film with deep themes about regaining one's lost faith and battling your own inner demons as well as a real one isn't really, er, fun. It's a classic movie, but it's also hard to watch (I'm certainly not in any hurry to watch it again) , and we're supposed to be having a good time here.


















Ah, Leatherface...you brought us the perfect Halloween movie.

So tomorrow don't just go out and get any scary movie; get one that's scary and fun. Don't get caught up pondering Father Karras's inner torment like we did that night. Texas Chainsaw Massacre is, I'd say, the granddaddy of great Halloween films, but I'd also recommend any in the Evil Dead series, the original Nightmare on Elm Street, Shaun of the Dead, Scream, or Fright Night, as I talked about yesterday. These are all films that can scare you but retain some semblance of camp value that makes them really fun to watch.

Stay away from stuff like Rosemary's Baby, Blair Witch Project, or, as sacreligious as it may seem, the original Halloween. They're fine movies (Halloween is a borderline masterpiece...I'm not knocking it), but, like The Exorcist, they're all slow paced and rely on a slow buildup to get the scares. They'll scare the shit out of you, but they aren't great for watching with a bunch of revved up partygoers.