Pontypool (indeed) changes everything

Writing and words, specifically poetry has been my passion long before I fell in love with horror films. Yet, writing has always been a private passion. Poems on napkins kinds of stuff. Volumes of poems that will never see the light of day. My poems. Some I'm sure good enough for publication, as some of them have been. For me writing has never been something I need others to read.

This brings me back to the blog. Back to cuts happening. Millions of people blog now, for reasons all their own. My wife blogs and has plenty of friends and followers who look forward to her updates everyday. This blog has been left to dust like a poem. I write and walk away for long periods of time, always promising not to. Recently I have come back to the blog when being awaken by a great film, or book. This blog was started shortly after being mesmerized by Donnie Darko. I felt as if horror films and poetry had a stronger connection than I realized. That these two passions of mine were not coincidental. I could not possibly ignore what vices poetry and horror have become for me. I should do what modern people are doing...blog about it. I have, sporadically for the last year, but like most poems....I rarely see the need to share my view. Or, rarely do I find a view I feel compelled to share with others.

But Pontypool changes everything. After reading an article here in my childhood's favorite magazine Fangoria I kept the film in the back of my mind as one to watch. Last night I found it On Demand. I casually watched it. I was slowly overtaken. Nothing in the film scared me, but after the film I felt spooked. The kind of deep fear that is not obtainable through monsters jumping out from behind doors. I was affected. I was confused, scared, curious, and deeply happy. I had not had this sensation since watching Donnie Darko. Like Pontypool...I stumbled upon Donnie....watched it with no expectations and very little information. This is the recipe for the deep spook. The check under the bed before you sleep spook. Like Donnie, after watching Pontypool I instantly felt compelled to watch it again. More info on the film can be found here

What made the experience even betters to see at the end of the film that it was adapted from the novel Pontypool Changes Everything by Tony Burgess. I was again compelled to search for this book. Unable to find it in stores....I was forced to order it on-line and will be waiting patiently for two to three weeks for it to arrive. Amazon seemed to have the best price here. I am never proud to say I saw the movie before reading the book. However, if the movie was this good....

I strongly recommend Pontypool. I will be reading the book soon and will be sure and write about it. For now I am just enjoying the feeling of being trust back into my blog. I thank Pontypool. Sometimes a film like a poem or a single word...can change everything.

red men, blue men, watch men, read men

This is a post of firsts. First film I saw before reading the book. First graphic novel I have read. First comic book film I will consider horror.

I read comics growing up. But these were the occasional ones...Tales From the Crypt, some Ghostrider, some Punisher. I was far from a comic nut. However, I always appreciated them, the artistry, writing and people who were into them. They were "my crowd," my friends. Until now I have never read a full graphic novel.

So here I am, reading Watchmen and loving it. I really think for the rare occasion- it was better for me to see the film first. This was a great movie. One that lived up to the hype and boy, was I sceptical. I am not one to jump on the proverbial bandwagon of pop culture. I was invited by my brother in law and even at the time told myself to be cautious...pop art ahead. I was horribly mistaken. Watchmen is a tour de force. Three hours that feels like one. Blood. Oh yes, there is blood. Social commentary that is so think I could not even follow it...told myself when leaving I either see it again or read the comic.

Watchmen had me at the blue man...Dr. Manhattan. The first time we see him on screen he is huge...ten times his normal size. Like I said, I am no comics expert...but he is the first comic, supernatural hero-guy that really caught me as original. Rorschach was great too. One mean S.O.B.! In reading the novel now...I can take my time and soak it all up. There is enough stuff in the book to write countless blog posts. Maybe I will. For now, I am simply a convert. Pop culture is sometimes wonderful.

You are not what you own

Back in my horror hay day; circa 1989/90 I would listen to what the films told me. Don't smoke pot. Don't have pre-marital sex. Don't make fun of the miss-formed. While horror film was my visual interest, music was my love. Boy did I love Fugazi. This band taught me more than my parents. Fugazi actually turned me into a straight-edge, hardcore, poet. My friends and I listened to Minor Threat and talked with glee about how we would take over the system. Fugazi transcended us into a life-style of "you are not what you own." While I can admit, I have not practiced this mantra all my life. I have long since been straight edge. And I admit my short comings. "You are not what you own" still sticks with me. Fugazi, lead by Ian McKaye and (my hero) Guy Picciotto stressed the need for personal, internal wealth. This, as opposed to wealth in the sense of commodity. Here we are, in 2009. Where we all pay the price for living beyond our means. We have all smoked pot. We have all left our friends when the monster is in the house. We are targets. We have not applied the long-standing lessons followed (somewhat) blindly in our youth. Most of us were different people. We swore we would never let this happen. Recently, I have challenged myself. To remember the things I fell in love with when I was young and impressionable. Things like poetry I have never forgotten. But Fugazi...not being what I own... and the concept of being straight-edge... have escaped me.

In looking at my life, I have it all. A family. Poetry. And a whole catalogue of horror films and great music. Furniture, has no say in life. Lately I have felt like a bookcase, gathering dust. I want to be re-read...knocked over...or the books should be stacked in a corner and the shelf should be sold. I am not what I own.

Say my name, say my name...

Today I learned who "the man" is. Who the man is at Netflix at least. You see, I am now convinced there is a man (or a lady) (or the little boy from The Shinning) that sits in an office at Netflix somewhere. Their job is to review your que. To see what you have on deck and from time to time hit you up with an oddball combo. You know what I mean...you get Spaceballs and Balls of Fury. Or you get Redneck Zombie Massacre in the same mail delivery as Barbie in Mermadia. The ironic combo. Or, in some cases, the embarrassing combo of films you want but didn't expect to get in the same week.

Now I enjoy Netflix, don't get me wrong. I just think that someone is toying with me, or the horror Gods are in alignment: as today I received both My Name is Bruce and His Name was Jason. both films I have been waiting to see, but was not expecting to get together. Could there really be a small boy, rabid robot dog, or computer program fucking with my que?? That ain't nothing nice. But, I will be enjoying watching these two horror giants. Jason and Bruce. Maybe one day they could battle each other. With the winner taking on "the man" at Netflix.

He would not run...

What would Jason do? What would he do if he found out that Marcus Nispel was remaking him. What would Kane Hodder do if he found out Derek Mears was playing him? What will Michael Bay do when he runs out of major horror properties to remake?

All of these questions will be answered with time. While I wait patiently at the dock of crystal lake like the rest of us for this new re-launch--I wonder--"this is still just theater fluff, right?" This, and the countless remakes before it are what we call theater fodder. Movies for teens and old school horror junkies like myself to maybe catch in the theatre--more likely to catch on DVD. But the real horror is out there. unfortunately, this Winter it is not in the theatre.

I will see the new Jason--for entertainment. More than likely on DVD. Maybe even Cupid will get me the what would Jason do t-shirt I've always wanted. The preview looks neat-- I like the burlap sack look....I like the atmosphere....and I like the director. Marcus Nispel did a yeoman's job with the Texas Chainsaw re-launch.

There is one issue I will take before seeing the film: HE WOULD NOT RUN. There is a rather cool, jaw-drop inducing "Jason running" scene in the preview. I myself at first was even all like "holy shit, that's cool." but....he would not run. Jason was a slug. A meat head. A drowned hydrocephalus head- soggy- bulky- behemoth. He would not run. This is the one scene that looks to be making him into more of a video game killer. Let's hope this is not the case.

What I will do is enjoy the show. But- let us not forget, the real horror films that are out there (just maybe not in theatres). Like MARTYRS. LET THE RIGHT ONE IN. In October- THE BOX. OFFSPRING. And many many others. The New Friday the 13th is our theatre horror fair for this month. Most of us will not run, but drive to the video store to see the angry Voorhees boy.

Cuts happen...

Things happen. New presidents are elected, years change, and blog writers loose their interest. I admit- I haven't blogged since....well, last year. Since we still had a crooked white guy as president. Since Mirrors was still in theaters (and now is tanking just as bad on DVD...what let down for Aja fans). I will make no excuses. I will make no promises to "do better" or "make-up" somehow, as the devotees to this blog are few and far between. There aren't many people, even many of my own friends who share my love for horror films and poetry. Sure, maybe some people like one or the other. But few see the corlation between the two. A short tense hour and a half horror film can easily evoke the same thrill as a short tense poem.

So here I will continue. I will continue to comment on the horror film and literary industry. I will juxtapose this commentary with my own poems on the side (quite literally). I will not just log in and check facebook alone. I will not blog once a year. I will not make promises about my blog.

This will remain the place to find out what is happening in the world of poetry and horror. Light and dark. Or, dark and dark.