SHARD The problem with his new job–night security at the Auto Crash Testing Facility–was all the time he had to think. Just Jerry and SHARD–Sophisticated Hazard Assessment Robotic Device–sitting at opposite ends of the little guardroom and employee lounge that overlooked the testing strip. What do you think?” he said. At least I’m not you. “What do you mean by that?” Let’s just say I don’t envy you. SHARD’s synthetic skull was visible through its translucent silicone head. “You’re just plastic. You don’t have a soul.” What is a soul, anyway? We’re not so different. You’re no more real than I am. “I have a heart that pumps blood, and… and a brain… I can think.” I pump irradiated fluids, and my venting system causes breathing and bubbling. I have a titanium skeleton structure, plastic lungs and a digestive tract–even anatomically correct sexual organs. I can communicate when I need to. You’ll be just like me someday. You’ll see. “What do you mean by that? You mean dead?” (Read More Here...)
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"The Cabin in the Woods" - Indulge in this Greasy, Sweet and Salty Carnival Treat of Horror Films4/16/2012 Oh, what sexy lips you have, Grandma. And your breath doesn't stink at all... You should see this one in the theater. It's an event, a grand moment in the history of film's horror genre. It's not that it's an extremely meaningful movie: it's junk food, entertainment distilled into its purest form. But it's the sort of greasy, super salty and sweet carnival morsel that's sure to get a lot of people exciting to go out to the movies, to have fun again, to have something to talk about. When I saw the preview I was like everybody else: "There's another stupid teenagers being hacked and slashed movie," and I thought I was being clever when I saw a flash of the orange-grid-stuff and was like: "There's the twist ending--this time it's a computer program being controlled by some evil government agency..." Well, I was right, and so, so wrong. I won't give the movie away--I refuse to even hint at the possibilities for fear of ruining your pure enjoyment of the flick--but there is so much more to it than that. The biggest problem with the slasher flick lies in its fundamental construction. The best example I can think of in recent years is "Jeepers Creepers," with a fantastic build-up that is creepy and very suggestively frightening, but that looses steam as the monster is revealed. This happens in most of these movies, and in many with more poorly executed beginnings than in "Jeepers Creepers." All I am going to say is that "The Cabin in the Woods" has found a way to solve this problem. Just when the action on most slasher films begins to sputter out, this one is just getting started. "The Cabin in the Woods" is an homage to horror films. Go see it. It's better if you see it in the theater, on the big screen. You'll see what I'm talking about. This recommendation says a lot, I think, coming from someone who tends to like his films deeply interesting and thought-provoking (off the top of my head I'm thinking of Polanski's "Repulsion" [1965] to Lars Von Trier's "Antichrist" {2009]) Sometimes, however, it's okay to indulge in a little junk, to celebrate the true purpose of the movies: entertainment. Unrelated Note: I know I said I'd finally discuss some literary fiction in the form of Cormac McCarthy, and I will; it's coming. Be patient, damn it! What a mess! How J. G. Ballard does it... I've begun revisions on my novel "The New Flesh." It is intimidating, and I'm scared of messing things up, which is probably why I'm writing this random blog entry instead of combing through all those carefully collated words that seem to have been written by some sort of alien humanoid, and certainly not by me. What's funny is that I seem to have written much of this novel in some sort of metaphysical fugue state and have little to no memory of certain sections. This is one of those sections I discovered this morning, a little back story: Harlan missed his family, the way it used to be--the closeness and the laughter. He missed how it was after he'd sold his screenplay: the new house and the brand-new-off-the-lot Subaru; the weekends out skiing and spa trips to Vegas; reading to Jake at night and the serious looks his son would give me at certain moments in the stories he read, Jake's face screwing up, asking "why doesn't the wolf just buy a steamroller and roll over the little pig's houses?" Then, after Jake had fallen asleep, Jess from the doorway in her nightgown whispering: "you're a good father, you know that?" "Yeah? What do father's get when they're good?" Cocking her head to the side, "Oh, I don't know." Then she'd saunter down the hallway to their bedroom swinging her hips--her "sexy" walk--and he'd stifle a laugh, and she'd join him and then they would make love as quietly as they could. But the money hadn't lasted long. He'd tried to write something else--another screenplay, something great--but it was never the same after that first one, too many rejections, and soon he had to find a job that payed the bills. An old college buddy helped him get an interview for a System Administrator position for "this certain website", and, before he knew what the site was about, he'd showed up for the interview and they'd liked him so much (and he'd really needed the money) he'd taken the job. Things were never the same after that; he was working all the time; his marriage went cold. His Oxycontin addiction--which he'd nursed quietly and evenly since college--began to zag out of control. In the pornography industry he could get his pills cheaply and easily. And he drank, coming home from work in an angry haze only to nod off a couple of hours later on the couch with the TV left buzzing in the dark living room. And Jess drank with him, her way of coping with the growing distance between them. And they'd fight, screaming at each other over things neither of them could remember later. And, sometimes, Harlan would glance over during one of these fights and see Jake sitting up on the stairs watching them. Later, in the early morning haze, he'd remember Jake's face--dismayed eyes, tight-lipped mouth, dark bags no 3rd grader should have to carry--and his heart would lurch painfully in his chest and he'd cry because he couldn't help himself, because he'd lost control of his life, because there were some things you could lose and never get back. Seeing his son like that, it was no wonder his son started that fire. Not bad, right? And strangely relevant to the writer's life. Is there such a thing as Subconscious Amnesic Meta-fiction??? Don't worry, next week I have some true 'literary horror' to discuss. Just let me finish reading "Blood Meridian" again this weekend and we'll discuss some Cormac McCarthy... Katniss and Peta Should Get a Room - Enjoying the Grape Coolaid a Little Bit More Each Day4/12/2012 I must qualify my last post about "The Hunger Games" by saying that the movie was actually pretty good; it was MUCH better than the book! In the movie, we weren't stuck in Katniss's head with all her dull, uninspired, and unreasonably dense thinking.
The movie form is a natural "shower" not a "teller." We can watch what Katniss does and decide what she's thinking based on her actions, which seem reasonable enough considering her situation, at least in the movie. The weird romance stuff is also understated enough in the movie to make it work and comes across in a much more realistic manner. In fact, I have to admit, it's almost not present enough--I've heard of people not recognizing any real romantic feelings between Peta and Katniss and this makes the game they play with their audience perhaps too shallow to matter. So there. "The Hunger Games" isn't as awful as I made it sound in my last article. Okay? Some people are, apparently, very passionate about their Hunger Games and take this stuff way too seriously. I even lost a Facebook friend to my harsh rantings last week. A Facebook friend! All of which, to me, is hilarious... |
"Unrelenting Horror"- FREE!An award-winning author known for blending elements of fantasy with horror in his surreal, literary style. Author of WITHIN, A GAME FOR GODS and VIOLENT HEARTS.
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