This lycanthropic interlude is brought to you by sleep deprivation which, according to this introductory overview, is cause to suspect one of being a This lycanthropic interlude is brought to you by sleep deprivation which, according to this introductory overview, is cause to suspect one of being a werewolf (that and uni-brows).
I can’t fault a kids book for being a bit kiddie, and I’m sure I’d have checked this out a dozen times from the library as a little lad (although the Twilight references would have been anachronistic).
I think The Beast of Gévaudan is a tale ripe for Robert Eggers treatment....more
Mythologies are not always coherent. They are comprised of passed down legends and lessons over years, centuries; altered, omitted, interpolated, and Mythologies are not always coherent. They are comprised of passed down legends and lessons over years, centuries; altered, omitted, interpolated, and eventually assimilated into a narrative. A parodic mythology springing from a couple minds over a couple decades seems like it should make a bit more sense, but there’s always the chance that the incoherence is a deliberate emulation of apocryphal history.
In any case, there was a time when I may have gleaned something of more value from a sporadic, disjointed series of hapless glimpses into a world of sentient bottles and skeletons getting drunk on bananas in a dystopian city in disarray, in which crucified rabbits are the inheriting meek, and a struggling artist strives to thrive in an industrial hellscape.
But I found the showcasing of varied stylists in a frankly nauseating competition of anarchic squalidness draining. Perhaps it was intended that I feel fatigued and inebriated and overwhelmed; by design, but no more endurable for it.
The panels are cluttered. The connecting stories are muddled. The accounts and actions of characters fall somewhere between a NyQuil dream and a memory in which you can’t quite place yourself....more
The B-side retold fables of anthropomorphic animals engaging in varying degrees of cruelty toward one another. I don’t know if they originated with AeThe B-side retold fables of anthropomorphic animals engaging in varying degrees of cruelty toward one another. I don’t know if they originated with Aesop or Mother Goose or what, but none of that mainstream Tortoise and the Hare fare here.
The most amusing entry features a rabbit stealing a rock’s hat. Yes, a boulder minding its own sedimentary business, rocking a stylish fedora, and a petty thumper comes by and jack-rabbits it right off its gibber! But the rock isn’t taking it lying down. It is compelled to go all Anton Chigurh on that contemptible coney, rolling after him like Sisyphus stepped aside for a breather.
Then the cotton-tailed clepto has the impudence to seek shelter in the homes of other woodland critters in an attempt to escape justice, all while flaunting his pilfered chapeau. But each critter hears the encroaching trundle of retribution and sends the cap-happy hare packing, lest they flatten for aiding and abetting.
In the end (spoiler alert) the hat immobilizes the stone and once returned, all is set right in the forest. The moral of the story; don’t take hats off rocks. It’s a dilemma I encounter daily, so I’m grateful to finally have a concrete lesson on the matter....more
There is endless supplemental material for this series, and I’m certainly not interested enough to expand my knowledge beyond the remaining novels, buThere is endless supplemental material for this series, and I’m certainly not interested enough to expand my knowledge beyond the remaining novels, but I thought I’d buzz through this guide I found, putting the movie faces to the—mostly nameless—characters.
I’ll give credit to this particular randomly selected cash-grab rehash of the first half of the movie in its presentation as propaganda from The Capitol a la Paul Verhoeven’s Starship Troopers. (“Would you like to learn more?�) I may want to rewatch the movie now…also Starship Troopers. ...more
Gorgeous visual storytelling that certified the short film as a classic from which it was wise to fill the pages with so many artful stills; somewhat Gorgeous visual storytelling that certified the short film as a classic from which it was wise to fill the pages with so many artful stills; somewhat trivialized by the rote storybook narration.
However many adaptations of an adaptation of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles there are is how many I will read. Reliving that radical feeling is somethiHowever many adaptations of an adaptation of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles there are is how many I will read. Reliving that radical feeling is something I will never outgrow.
Eastman and Laird returned to create an adaptation of the 1990 movie adapted from their original comic. The movie stayed faithful to the source material and so a recreation of TMNT #1 and Raphael #1 based on the script for the movie came together perfectly and was more atmospherically inspired than the junior novelization. It missed a few scenes and moments that the movie brought so successfully to life, but the characterization and heart was all there, as should be expected from the creators of the characters.
The best thing the movie did was integrating the Casey Jones storyline (who wasn’t in the first issue). He is an outstanding counterpart to Raphael and his inclusion provided an excellent revision to the comics predating him.
This comic is cleaner (and more colorful), thus detracting from the dingy grittiness of the original, but it’s balanced and did not overdo it on the more kid friendly elements necessary for mainstream appeal. Not quite as excellent as either of the combined sources, but a worthy way to experience the franchise.
*A bonus Easter egg for horror fans: The troubled budding criminal teen Danny is wearing a Rawhead Rex shirt throughout the comic, referencing Clive Barker’s short story. Sounding like a good punk/metal band name, I assume Eastman threw it in for fun without ever calling attention to it*...more
A lumbering accident prone monster wants to be a helpful gentleman, but always seems to end up inadvertently slaughtering everyone around him. PerhapsA lumbering accident prone monster wants to be a helpful gentleman, but always seems to end up inadvertently slaughtering everyone around him. Perhaps it’s just his nature, destined to grow up and decimate cities. He’s not made for the human world, but for its destruction, despite his efforts to fit in. Eventually, his adversarial instincts take over, and his crazed genetics want blood. His friends wind up eviscerated, decapitated, or barbecued, often screaming ‘my eyes!� as Booyah spills scalding hot chocolate or impales them on birthday candles for a prank.
Nothing in the way of an origin, the green scourge wanders from place to place wreaking havoc without intention.
The cartoonish gore is fun. The bewildered mania of his accidental victims as their world erupts in chaos makes for viable amusement. As its sole purpose, it plays itself out over a few stories before overplaying its edgy gimmick....more
In the �80’s, every franchise reaching an upper echelon pop-culture status required a parodic complimentary companion à la Mad Magazine or Garbage PaiIn the �80’s, every franchise reaching an upper echelon pop-culture status required a parodic complimentary companion à la Mad Magazine or Garbage Pail Kids cards. It needed to be just innocently-enough crass, self-referential, surreal, and attuned to contemporary attitudes so as to pertinently capture the prevailing ironic youth culture.
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This is a product that requires time-sensitive context to understand. Tim Burton’s Batman had just been released, ushering in the first major studio era of comic book cinematic adaptations, thus ‘The Foot Clan� is replaced by ‘The Bat Guys,� an ill-defined and oxymoronic gang of vigilante petty criminals with a tenuous connection to the big baddie, ‘The Shooter� whose inspiration, ‘The Shredder� was compared to a cheese grater by the source material’s Heroes in a Half Shell, now dons a full meat processing grinder as a helmet.
Produced by Mirage Studios—original home of TMNT—this is an authorized parody of the live-action movie, which speaks to how precious studios and conglomerations have become about their IPs—usually acquired, not original—and don’t recognize that sanctioning a piss-take is the best way to signify that you can take a goddamn joke.
Master Splinter, stoic and wise patriarch, is here mutated into a demented Rat Fink Mickey Mouse mongoloid (yet still more respectfully rendered than in ) called ‘Match-stik.� April O’Neil, a stalwart and incorruptible reporter (divergent from the original comics), is rendered a brain dead, busty bimbo named April Mayjune. Casey Jones (badass hockey-masked human alter-ego of the rage-fueled Raphael) now a down bad, kabuki masked doofus called ‘Kootie Jones� (and if you want a deep and dated reference, he fights using Milton Bradley Cootie game pieces). You get the picture.
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The Turtles are sellout frauds who get their shells handed to them. Kootie turns out to be a fanboy trying to return the new safe, soft, spongy turtles to their dark, gritty, noir roots (this is interesting not only as a representation of pre-internet fan backlash to a popular franchise, but for how much more sanitized it would become).
Honestly, despite its source material’s household recognition, it’s quite a niche byproduct, detectable in its anarchic format only by Turtle Maniacs who have dwelled in the sewers from its conception. There was care and precision infused with the off-the-wall gags and I could speak for hours, pointing them out panel to panel, but as with the magic that accompanied the movie’s release, you’d have to be there....more
With only seven issues spanning thirteen years of print and publication, Cemetery Dance’s Grave Tales can’t be said to have been a short-lived seriesWith only seven issues spanning thirteen years of print and publication, Cemetery Dance’s Grave Tales can’t be said to have been a short-lived series, but the time and money afforded the artists probably made it difficult to bring these short story adaptations to life in a timely—or regular—fashion. No slouches on this project, cranking out weekly crap.
Inspired by the EC horror comics of old, this inaugural installment has original and adapted stories by Rick Hautala (illustrated by Cemetery Dance mainstay Uber-detailer Glenn Chadbourne), Edward Lee, and Richard Layman, along with some lesser-knowns.
The cover is deceptive in that none of these are Halloween stories, but it was nonetheless a great trio of morbidity and gore.
In the first tale, Late Summer Shadows , Hautala does what he does best, reminiscing on a whimsical woodland adventure turned grim and deadly, the past returning to cease the present, as told by a future survivor.
Next is an oddly religious story by Gene Michael Higney, adapted by purveyor of perversity, Edward Lee. Comes the Night Wind, Cold and Hungry is the goriest course, with a terrific paneled montage of a demonic killer clown’s exploits.
For dessert, so nearly a Halloween story; Richard Laymon’s Stickman could’ve been, should’ve been. Why not? A defiling serial killer returns from the dead to exact corrupt vengeance for his comeuppance at vigilante hands and rope. A quick, mean conclusion to the anthology in which justice does not ultimately prevail.
I’d love to see a new issue appear, but after a decade-long hiatus, it probably just wasn’t profitable enough....more
There are demons and spirits to fear, and those to revere. Old Notch-foot is one such derivative Samhain spirit of the latter category; that is, unlesThere are demons and spirits to fear, and those to revere. Old Notch-foot is one such derivative Samhain spirit of the latter category; that is, unless you’ve wronged someone egregiously enough to provoke his summoning, in which case, revert to the former.
Inspired, in part, by the real Pumpkin House located in Kenova, West Virginia—a popular Halloween attraction which is adorned with thousands of jack-o�-lanterns—this is a story with plenty classic Halloween elements including a town enamored with the holiday, a local legend, and lots and lots of pumpkins.
Under different circumstances, this could have been a cozy meet-cute YA novel, but Ronnie has a domestic problem; his mother’s abusive on-again, off-again boyfriend. His new friend and fellow volunteer Sarah—tasked with writing the names of everyone in town on the displayed pumpkins, for more than just representation—had an even more devastating situation at her home. The proprietor of The Pumpkin House, old Mr. Keenan, is intimately familiar with the Old Notch-foot legend and does not discourage its invocation, but cautions to be certain the deed calls for such drastic measures.
This is not a creature feature, but I have a gripe with the rather lazy description of the monster. Pumpkinhead is already another Stan Winston creation which bore resemblance to the Xenomorph from Alien—and it makes sense that a ninth grader might make these references—but that’s about all we get in terms of its physical attributes. It is a demon of vengeance, also like Pumpkinhead, so I would think one would want to distinguish it rather than call out its essential sameness. It was a bit underwhelming, but everything served the story in a more mature Goosebumps kind of way....more
A grotesque little tale of a witch who is stalked home by the garments of her latest victim and a jack-o�-lantern containing his anguished soul as sheA grotesque little tale of a witch who is stalked home by the garments of her latest victim and a jack-o�-lantern containing his anguished soul as she returns from gathering the herbs for her potions. Once arrived, the dispersed articles come knocking to enact revenge, but unfortunately for him, the crone has completed her concoction and mutters a spell, assembling and immobilizing the amassed pile of laundry. The next morning, she greets her new scarecrow, eternally condemned to stationary consciousness, a jagged grin belying his torment.
I may have interpolated some details to make my reading experience a little more interesting....more
*Many thanks to my inaugural buddy reader Christine Koch. It was a quick one, but time very well spent*
Spiders and the moon; two things replete with d*Many thanks to my inaugural buddy reader Christine Koch. It was a quick one, but time very well spent*
Spiders and the moon; two things replete with dreary allegorical potential and put to much use in this frigid, gothic, sci-fi adjacent, phantasmagorical creature feature period piece, weaved together with characteristically stunning prose from one of the best practitioners of language in any of the aforementioned genres.
The blending of medical horror, parasitic body horror, and creeping existential dread makes for a wonderfully macabre fable.
This is not hard science-fiction. It is not relevant to understand why there is breathable oxygen on the surface of the moon, how rocket technology was so advanced in the 1920’s, or how a spider god possesses psychic and time-folding capabilities.
Although thankfully no cringeworthy references to “the divine feminine,� the time period of barely burgeoning autonomy in which it takes place makes the oft-attributed female qualities of the moon and the spider pertinent. To reduce it to some trendy feminine rage revenge fantasy would be doing the story a great disservice. It is not so blatantly triumphant as that. Veronica is committed by her husband for being too downtrodden to fulfil her wifely duties (her self-loathing reinforced by words from her mother when [or where] Veronica was a child), but there are men committed to the same fate intended for her. Ballingrud does not deal in exaggerated didactic pandering. The head surgeon at Barrowfield Home for Treatment of Melancholy is as condescending to his enforcer/former patient as he is to Veronica. It’s really only gendered in variation and has more to do with experimental attempts by a grandiose malpractioner at cures for little understood mental illness with the real life body horror of prefrontal lobotomies called to mind. Hysteria or melancholy? Never mind. Mutilate the brain.
There are those who think Ballingrud is too obtuse and abstract (especially in The Visible Filth, otherwise known as Wounds, which I loved as well, but can understand. The movie did not do well, but I was impressed by how faithful an adaptation it was). Crypt of the Moon Spider (which, for some reason I have to actively refrain from calling Curse of the Spider Moon) is a classically weird tale and is perfectly cohesive in the moonlight of its wildly unique conceit, should one be willing to accept it. It is a grotesque nightmare, elegantly executed.
Time allowing, I’ll return for some more nitty-gritty, specific points of analysis, because I love a story that sets my symbolic synapses aflame. I will be anticipating and reading the further entries in this Lunar Gothic Trilogy.
I wouldn’t dare suggest that some of you wonderful weirdos don’t luv Halloween as much as I do, but I can confidently declare that you’d be hard-pressI wouldn’t dare suggest that some of you wonderful weirdos don’t luv Halloween as much as I do, but I can confidently declare that you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who luvs it more than I do. I don’t merely celebrate. I, as much as I can manage for the entire month of October, observe Halloween like a devout Catholic observes Lent, or a devout Muslim observes Ramadan. I would not take offense to being labeled a Halloween zealot, or fundamentalist. I want the spirit of the season incorporated into everything I do for those 31 sacred days. I don’t expect anyone in my life to go along with it, just that they respect it.
Anyway, that covers the title of this mid-2000’s manga guignol, and is it ever the epitome of turn-of-the-century, edgy goth energy. Manga in categorization, ostensibly, but it has far more in common with the graphic novels of Jhonen Vasquez, both in art style and content.
It is a filthy, non-sequiter, nightmare world that fifteen-year-old me would have been obsessed with had I discovered it at Hot Topic. Corrupt, psychopathic children wander a hellscape inversion of our world, brutalizing anyone who interferes with their candy quest. It is commonplace, and our trick-or-treating troupe couldn’t be more nonchalant about all the havoc.
Finch and his demonic tooth fairy sister Moochie (introduced by way of wrenching a molar from her rotting father’s mouth as his rotting wife sits across from him at the dinner table), sets in motion this demented Devil’s Night. Finch and his degenerate friends (none of whom we ever see out of costume) receive apples at their first house. This does not bode well for their endeavor, and so disproportionately malicious measures must be taken in response.
From then on, a rampage of revenge and perversion ensues. (Hellbent on seeing his voluptuous neighbor’s boobs, one friend’s head literally explodes when—after said neighbor chases the hellions down to regain her massive discarded bra which Moochie subsequently repurposed for a slingshot used to Goliath a bully through the eye socket—she flashes the child in order to, I don’t know, spite him?
A bedridden old woman is disemboweled, a police officer bites into a razor-riddled apple, a dimwitted bully has his teeth crudely extracted, a candy-hander-outer is savaged by a deformed dog, and a random little girl is wearing a Glassjaw Sux shirt as part of her costume.
If I weren’t so familiar with this trend of random chaos in the days when Nickelodeon greenlit a show like Invader Zim, I’d think I had a psychotic episode and this series didn’t even really exist....more
“A pinch of your brother, a teaspoon of you, With the head of your sister, would make a good stew. I’d give you a taste, but your tongue’s in the stew.“A pinch of your brother, a teaspoon of you, With the head of your sister, would make a good stew. I’d give you a taste, but your tongue’s in the stew. Irony! That’s what Halloween means to me.� —Stephen Lynch,
When it comes to flash fiction, or ‘bite-sized horror,� as the case may be, I struggle with how to read a collection. I’m not much for dipping in and out. I’m a straight-through, cover to cover kind of guy, but flash fiction often feels like ripping the engine cord without turning the clutch. rev-rev-rev-rev done. You don’t get that satisfying sensation as it sputters to life, and there is no journey to follow. They are quite literally over before they begin.
Naturally, these bite-sized pieces range from gruesomely amusing and ironically twisted to ‘Huh? Did I miss something?� Some of them are real head-scratchers, prompting a once-again-over. Maybe if I read it with the cadence of a joke, or a poem, it’ll click. Nope? Time to move on. Can’t cry wasted time because it requires almost no time to consume.
I like the frenetic energy of the peculiar project. There are interludes of parodic advertisements, art collages, and self-aware warnings. You’re going to get dead animals, imperiled children, depravity and delight in disregard for human life, but it’s all in good Halloween fun!
You’ll encounter an array of beasties and butchers and plenty of creative concepts. You’ll be riffed on for your basic bitch love of pumpkin spice, hard cider, and candy-corny decorations. With the exception of the professionally offended, and there are some eye-rolling moments, you should find something to sate your sickly sweet tooth, even if some of the treats are spit out and instantly forgotten....more
This is not a fun, spooky, gory, or even necessarily ghostly tale. It is a grim, ghastly and sad story that alludes to mental illness, obsession, deniThis is not a fun, spooky, gory, or even necessarily ghostly tale. It is a grim, ghastly and sad story that alludes to mental illness, obsession, denial, delusion, and broken familial bonds.
Don’t take it for a respectful, miserable exploration of these themes. There are—at least—visions of monsters and apparitions. It is about the horror of ambiguity in a world in which the supernatural is no more widely believed than our own, but which doesn’t dissuade from the potentiality of a twelve-year-old mass-murderer being influenced by something beyond his own or anyone else’s understanding.
Rick, a recently released childhood killer (double meaning there), has not wavered on his story after twenty-five years of incarceration, reaches out to his brother to try and convince him one last time before attempting to rid himself of this nebulous entity for good, but can’t provide any motivation on its behalf.
Does he genuinely believe his admittedly consistent accounting of events? Is it an elaborately constructed excuse; a coping mechanism? Or is there, just maybe, something wreaking havoc on children on Halloween for years, centuries?
It may not be as deep as all that. You may read it, think back to this review (likely not), and think calm down, dude! It’s a lame trope we’ve seen countless times before. Yes, as are most things in all stories. I don’t invest much in the way of murderers crying possession, spirits, extraterrestrial signals, what have you, but in the context of the story, it’s a distressing possibility, however minuscule, to consider....more
I commend a collection from anyone who revels in the exhilarating autumn ethos as I do. We are black and orange family. We are Bradburian sons and dauI commend a collection from anyone who revels in the exhilarating autumn ethos as I do. We are black and orange family. We are Bradburian sons and daughters of crisp and cool air, bonfire nights, piles of fallen leaves, and Haunted Harvests.
Perhaps better served as pieces of text on picturesque fall backdrops, spooky paraphernalia, or Halloween greeting cards than as an overly brief pamphlet, I appreciate the cathartic tradition of capturing the seasonal pleasures as documented poems of essential being....more
Treehouse of Horror is another staple of Halloween tradition, albeit one that has significantly declined in quality over the years and which I have noTreehouse of Horror is another staple of Halloween tradition, albeit one that has significantly declined in quality over the years and which I have not maintained.
I don’t expect any Simpsons output of the last fifteen years to compete with the golden age, let alone a comic book that plays on nothing but the most superficial aspects of iconic characters. I don’t expect anything to stack up to classic entries in the annual Halloween episodes like The Shinning, Nightmare at 5 1/2 Feet, or surprisingly, and more recently, Death Tome, (parodies of Stephen King’s The Shining, The Twilight Zone/Richard Matheson’s Nightmare at 20,000 Feet and Death Note, respectively).
I like that the tradition has been kept alive in other mediums, but it’s a lazy affair. These parodies of Evil Dead/Cabin in the Woods, Rosemary’s Baby, Batman: Arkham Asylum, and nominally, The Bride of Frankenstein were a far cry from what has made the Treehouse of Horror specials so, well, special.
Ending on a lame punchline about Homer’s love of doughnuts and beer just goes to show how little effort was put into this and how little they seemed to care to create something lasting....more
”So many awful things to see. So many terrible beasts to be. You’re not you and I’m not me, ٴDzԾ.� —Lonesome Wyatt and the Holy Spooks, ”So many awful things to see. So many terrible beasts to be. You’re not you and I’m not me, ٴDzԾ.� —Lonesome Wyatt and the Holy Spooks,
That’s what I’m talking about! A fun-size treat that opens cozily and concludes catastrophically.
I didn’t know what to expect with this short story. I didn’t know if it was extreme horror, or spooky children’s fare. It was that mysterious candy you don’t recognize when sorting out your haul after trick-or-treating. It turned out to occupy a Goldilocks zone. It was a direct, straightforward, easy and pleasurable Halloween story that would have been a great addition to a Halloween horror anthology.
Three brief interwoven perspectives of the same unfolding horror show as the sun sets on Halloween night, and all the trick-or-treaters� costumes render the pretenders a little more literal. The elements were all just right. I cannot find much fault in its simplicity. The aging couple, the horny teens, and the overworked police officer all got just enough time and development to invest before they are blindsided by barbarity.
I would call it old-school contemporary, authentic Halloween horror in good company with Trick ‘r Treat, or Halloween III: Season of the Witch. No embellishment, subversion, politicking, or posturing; just an out-and-out love for the holiday season and the terror we love to safely feel in its imaginative presence. ...more
A Halloween twist on The House that Jack Built . Not the Lars Von Trier film, or the Graham Masterton novel, but the original nursery rhyme, This is tA Halloween twist on The House that Jack Built . Not the Lars Von Trier film, or the Graham Masterton novel, but the original nursery rhyme, This is the House That Jack Built , with which I don’t recall being familiarized as a child, somehow. No matter. Everything can be improved by integrating Halloween themes.
The verse is cute enough, simple, incorporating all the classic Halloween cast of creatures, although not reliably felicitous: (The skeleton was rattled. That checks out, but the werewolf�got upset? What about hair-raised, snarled, moonstruck? Something, anything that ties in with the lore somehow. (Werewolves, notoriously disappointed creatures).
Here I am, griping about lycanthropes and children’s literature again. Somebody stop me. Now to dissect Shakira’s hit song, She Wolf. Awooooo!
But the star of This is the House That Monsters Built is undoubtedly illustrator Jared Lee, most famous, I think, for the (School Authority Figure from the) Black Lagoon series, innocently macabre and memorable books.
The detail in Lee’s signature style shows commitment and personality. This is no exception. Like buzzing childhood nightmares, it is the perfect blend of fun and fright.
Sing this book to your kids, your pets; invent your own spooky melody, imprint the images, and create a cherished Halloween memory....more
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