Thinkin' all about those censored sequences

The Kings are playing the Grizzlies and yet I cannot watch. It is tragically unfair.

Last night I couldn't actually convince myself to go to bed, so I stayed up watching movies on the cable. I don't do this nearly enough. I saw things of interest and I'm going to talk about them.

The Dunwich Horror (1970): I can't believe I've never seen this until now. All these kinds of earthly manifestations of demonic phenomena tales are so very much My Bag. Basically, Sandra Dee gets date-raped by Satan. At least once, maybe twice. That is the whole movie. Although there is all that H.P. Lovecraft "unearthly beings from another dimension" stuff instead of good old-fashioned occult crap, but it's a minor complaint. So Sam Rockwell, I mean Dean Stockwell, is the youngest in a long family line of people with "unusual" "beliefs" and when he sees doughy Sandra Dee clutching a copy of the Necronomicon, he is, dare I say, bewitched! and sets to employing a whole satchelful of warlock trickery in order to win her over so that he can sacrifice her in a ritual to open the gates to ... something, and maybe impregnate her, or get something else to impregnate her, or whatever, I dunno. It's artistic. With his Yorkie moustache, WASP 'fro and fluttery man-scarf, he brings to mind Roddy McDowall in that one episode of "Columbo," only not so butch, and both Sandra Dee and her Bonnie Cashin cape are suitably captivated. The most fantastic thing is that he's whipping out this whole catalog of awesome expressionating, like shifty-eyed dartful glances and pop-eyed stare-takes punctuating his every line of dialogue as if to say Bonggg, I am casting a spell on you, bonggg and it is not to be missed. And I can't even begin to get into all the trippy filter-abuse posterization segments, overlaid images that would made Tim Pope pee on himself, the bitchin' Les Baxter score, the multi-armed Coldmiser monster that looks like a 3D Ikea wall-hanging with teeth, or the part where the purportedly semi-nude Sandra Dee, in the midst of alleged sacrificial ecstasy, is laid out on the altar and you can see the entire armhole of her body stocking, complete with seams. It doesn't match her skintone in the slightest. Also, there are tons of stunt boobs and inappropriate groping. And don't miss the shock surprise ending! I give it a million stars.

Spun (2002): I missed the first couple of minutes, but I could tell after 30 seconds that this movie would be intolerable. Clearly Jonas Akerlund needed to make a full-length revisitation of "Smack My Bitch Up" and "Turn the Page" and then edit it to rip off, I mean pay tribute to, the addiction rush sequences from Requiem for a Dream. There's a reason why those were used sparingly. Oh my God. This is a complete piece of shit. Let me tell you something about America! It's got drugs! And FAT PEOPLE! Fat people who do drugs! And they eat junk food and watch wrestling and shop at — get this — convenience stores. And some guys wear these mullet hairdos and they're CRAZY! Don't they even realize they look stupid? Man, Americans are STUPID! They watch NASCAR and wear aviator glasses like they think they're from the '70s, but it's totally not even the '70s, because in case you haven't noticed, it is 2002 and practically the FUTURE. But don't tell that to these people! They wear, hello, acid-washed jeans? and cowboy boots. Cowboy boots! Have you seen these things? Only hicks wear that stuff! Hey, guess where there are a lot of hicks? AMERICA! Let me tell you something about America. They've got pornographies and strippers and people who watch strippers and GAY PEOPLE! And everyone does drugs and it's dirty and gross and yet extremely sexy, because we Europeans are so ADVANCED in our formulation of aesthetic standards that everything about dirty Americans that is disgusting and gross and that Finger-Pointing-at-YOU should really despise about YOURSELVES is actually the very zenith of hotness to us, because we are SO BEYOND YOU. This movie can shoot itself in the face and bleed to death. I can't believe I watched the entire thing! It made me go back and watch The Dunwich Horror a second time just to clear out the venom. I recommend watching this movie specifically to hate everything about it.

Little Murders (1971): I only saw the last half of this, which is either the stronger or weaker half, depending. Uh. I've seen this maybe three times. It's not the kind of movie you can watch over and over again. I like it as They Just Don't Make 'Em Like This Anymore but I don't think I'll ever get Chris to watch it as he despises Jules Feiffer. The first time I saw this was on a double feature at the Film Forum with, if memory serves, Who Is Harry Kellerman and Why Is He Saying Those Terrible Things About Me? which is a certain sort of bill for a certain sort of person. It was trying. But good. Just don't try to see those both on the same night, that is rough going.

It took me so long to write this that the game ended ages ago and the Kings won. YAY

Posted by Kim at November 30, 2004 10:35 PM | Moving Pictures