The bad movies. That’s all anyone ever wants to talk about. Manos. Mitchell. The audacity of taking on a pseudo classic like This Island Earth. The creative constitution it must have required to endure the aesthetic horrors of Time of the Apes, The Castle of Fu Mancho, or Attack of the the Eye Creatures. But there remains so much more to Mystery Science Theater 3000 than Arch Hall Jr., Coleman Francis, and Merritt Stone. As a matter of fact, one of the first things critics latched onto where the sensational skits, in between bits that often commented directly on the film being shown. Yet there were also times when the material was merely “inspired” by the work being presented, said muse mutated into wit that transpired the sloppy celluloid circumstances. It’s these boffo blackouts that deserve reconsideration and concentration. SE&L, confirmed MiSTies, will highlight 10 of the best forays into funny stuff the Satellite of Love and its occupants ever attempted.
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They say that violence solves nothing. They also argue that might makes right. Apparently, the notions of conflict and its brutal byplay are at odds with each other - just like those both for and against such sentiments. Indeed, when it comes to the movies, ending things in a hail of gunfire has been a creative go to move. From the moment we saw The Great Train Robbery and its weapon aimed directly at the audience to today’s reliance of shaky cam chaos to create a sense of “being there,” bullets and the devices which deliver them have become the exclamation point on any action effort. Indeed, the genre seems to be built on the notion of bigger and badder, from the accent on increased bloodshed to the attempt to turn such aggression into a thing of (questionable) beauty.
They say that funny men always want to play dramatic. They also argue that the serious actor always longs to be the buffoon. Stretching the sentiment out even further, leading men always long to break free of the handsome hunk mode and play down and dirty. Similarly, the heavy hopes for the day when they can look at a script and not see their name associated with the diabolical, the destructive, and the dead. So in the professional pecking order of Hollywood, anyone with solid commercial clout confirms these feelings by fiddling with their well established big screen personas. A laugh getter turns tender, or terrifying while the strong silent type struggles to make an ass out of himself. It’s called avoiding the typecast. It also means some interesting names have translated their talent into a turn at being the bad guy.
For most of us, the first thing we fear is ghosts. No, not the actual spirits themselves. Those are left to our imaginations as marshmallows sizzle over an open campfire and some specious adult decides that a kid’s coming of age should have them wary of hooks on car doors and axe wielding maniacs in the backseat of a car. Ghosts tie into our Puritanical society, one steeped so heavily in religious rectitude that any afterlife must make room for those unwilling to walk the path of paradise. Naturally, when cinema went scary, ghosts became one of its most endearing double exposure nightmares. Not all specters are special, but when they are, they are worth pointing out, especially since they continue to invade our dreams sometimes decades after they first haunted our motion picture past time.
He’s back… the man who made the Deadites and that fabled Book of the Dead, The Necronomicon, a fright fan household name. Yet ever since he struck professional paydirt with an oddball Western starring a then hot Sharon Stone, Sam Raimi has wondered away from his horror roots. Over the course of the next few decades, he made two thillers, a baseball themed drama, and then literally re-invented the post-millennial popcorn comic book superhero blockbuster with his Spider-man movies. And now he’s tackling the family film (?) genre. That’s right, his recent release for Disney’s (??) Oz the Great and Powerful has just broken $80 million at the box office on its opening weekend, securing his legacy as both commercial king and ruler of the crepshow.