The Brain (Ed Hunt, 1988)

"If we kill the brain, everything should go back to normal." When Jim, the hunky protagonist in the aptly titled, The Brain, says this particular nugget of wisdom to his super-cute girlfriend, Janet, I thought: Yeah, that makes perfect sense, as the brain is the key to putting a stop to the weird events that are plaguing this more bland than usual corner of the GTA. Oh, and, yes, this film definitely takes place in Toronto. I know, there's an American flag in the school's library, but that's just there for show. This film sweats T.O. from its pores. But where exactly in Toronto, I wondered? Convinced that it was shot somewhere in the wilds of Scarborough, I readied myself to go on yet another award-winning rant about the east end hellscape. Then it dawned on me: What if it wasn't shot in Scarborough? The prospect that this might be case alarmed me. And since I didn't want to make a fool of  myself, I decided to do a little digging. As I was about to double-check, I became enraged. How can this film not be shot in Scarborough? I mean, the lead character attends Meadowvale High School. Seriously, I distinctly remember playing volleyball there (unlike my school, their gymnasium had high ceilings, meaning, your ball didn't get stuck in the rafters every time you bumped the ball). Well, I'm glad I checked, because this film, believe or not, was totally shot in Mississauga. That's right, it was filmed all the way on the other side of the city. In my defence, all suburbs in Toronto look the same.

It doesn't matter if The Brain was filmed Scarborough or Missassauga, my point still stands. What's that? I didn't make any points. I was too busy doing what? It says here I was debating whether or not the film was shot in Scarborough, Ontario, Canada. Wow, I'm sorry about that folks.

Anyway, the point I think I was about to make–you know, before I got sidetracked–involved questioning Jim's logic. It's true, if they do kill the brain, things would probably go back to normal. But I'd have to ask him: Why would you want things to go back to normal? Think about it, man. You're living in freakin' Missassauga! To make matters even worse, it's the middle of winter.

Then again, if things weren't "normal" you'd still be in Missassauga. I have to say, I make an excellent point. However, I'm missing one key ingredient. And that is, if things went back to normal, you can pretty much kiss the impromptu hallucinations that boast icy blonde lady scientists with frightfully precise nipples goodbye.

I don't care if we're forced to live in normal Missassauga or abnormal Missassauga, I want to see icy blonde lady scientists with frightfully precise nipples, and I want to see them now!

If I'm being sincere, and I usually am, it sounds like I'd be the perfect candidate to be brainwashed by "Independent Thinking," a television show hosted by Dr. Anthony Blake (David Gale). His last name, by the way, is Blake, not "Blakely," as it's listed in the credits. And it's pronounced Blake as in flake, not "Bah-lah-kay."

Having cleared that up, we can now move on to less blakey ground (you see what I did there? I replaced the word "shaky" with "blakey").

Don't you think showing "the brain" right from the get-go was a bit of a mistake? Personally, I would have at least waited until the ten minute mark. But you know what? I'm going to let film scholars debate whether showing the brain this early in the film was a mistake or not. You wanna know why? Because I have an icy blonde lady scientist with frightfully precise nipples to write about, that's why.

I'll get to the I.B.L.S.W.F.P.N. in just a second, I think I should first mention that Becky's mom really wants to her to watch the aforementioned Independent Thinking. However, it's obvious that Becky (Susannah Hoffmann) would rather hang out in her room. Suddenly, these large tentacles burst through her bedroom walls and start grabbing at her. Is this the brain's way of punishing Becky for not watching Independent Thinking? Who knows.

Actually, I do know. You see, the brain is a large brain-like creature that Dr. Blake keeps in a vat of green goo backstage. And this large brain-like creature is hooked up to a satellite dish outside the studio, which is really the Psychological Research Institute (major kudos to the filmmakers for the building they found to act as the P.R.I., as it has a real otherworldly vibe about it).

Nevertheless, both Becky and her mother are dead. Passing their house as their bodies are being hauled away is Jim Majelewski (Tom Bresnahan), a good student, but a bit of a troublemaker. (Maybe he wouldn't such a troublemaker if his girlfriend would just let him penetrate her vagina with his penis.) Look, when Janet (Cynthia Preston) says she wants to wait until college, she means it. So stop trying to guilt her into having sex with you just because you can't seem to control your ability to act out in an anti-social manner.

After being caught dumping sodium in one of the school's toilets, the principal of Meadowvale High School, Mr. Woods (Kenneth McGregor), and Ms. Chisolm (Vinetta Strombergs), the school's resident VCR expert, suggest that Jim go see Dr. Blake at the P.R.I. for counseling. (The very same Dr. Blake who is secretly trying take over the world via the large brain-like creature he keeps in a vat of green goo backstage at his cheesy day time television show?) Ding, ding, ding! We have a wiener.

Reluctantly agreeing to see Dr. Blake... (Reluctant my ass, he was told he had to go or else he would be suspended.) Okay, fine. Forced to see Dr. Blake, Jim waits in one of the P.R.I.'s examination rooms.

Entering the examination room legs first, Vivian (Christine Kossak), who is wearing a mini-lab coat and a dark pencil skirt, greets Jim with an icy smile. (Did you just say, "icy smile"?) Yeah, so? (Just checking. Please, do continue.) Unable to concentrate on what she's saying, Jim focuses the bulk of his attention on her legs, which are on full display; thanks to her dark pencil skirt and the mini-nature of her lab coat.

(You how you described Vivian as an "icy blonde lady scientist with frightfully precise nipples?) Yep. (Are you sure they're frightfully precise? I mean, if you ask me, they look kinda imprecise.) While her nipples aren't exactly precise, they are the best thing about this movie. Not to toot my own, but I think that's one of the sanest things I've ever said.

In what's becoming an annoying trend... (Aren't you going to explain how Vivian's frightfully precise/imprecise nipples move the plot of The Brain forward?) Oh, sorry about that. Yeah, after attaching some sticking pads to his forehead, Vivian leaves the exam room and Dr. Blake proceeds to ask Jim some questions.

On a monitor in the exam room, Jim sees Vivian holding an apple. But in reality, she's holding a baseball. The fact Jim doesn't see what Dr. Blake wants him to see upsets him greatly. Things get even more out of hand when Jim imagines Vivian topless. Standing there holding an apple aloft, her frightfully precise/imprecise nipples glowing like pinkish diamonds, Vivian begins to entice Jim with saucy, come-hither language. Of course, Dr. Blake can't see or hear any of this, so he puts a stop to the experiment and sends Jim home.

Just when I thought I had seen the last of Vivian and her frightfully precise/imprecise nipples, she shows up during the climatic P.R.I. boiler room finale. And, yes, she is topless when she appears to Jim.

When I went to check Christine Kossak's filmography, I was shocked to discover that she has only appeared in three movies. Outrageous!

On the opposite end of the spectrum, The Brain is my third Cynthia Preston movie (the other two being Pin and Prom Night III: The Last Kiss). At any rate, I think we can safely declare Cynthia to be a genuine "scream queen." Sure, she never appears nude onscreen, but she knows how to scream and is usually the last one standing before the end credits start to role. Oh, and she seems to excel at playing the girlfriends or siblings of troubled teens.

As expected, Jim becomes a thorn in the side of Dr. Blake, his hirsute henchmen Verna (George Buza) and the brain itself. This thorniness leads to the film--which, at times, seems to be channeling Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Videodrome--to becoming a bit of a chase movie, as Jim tries to prevent Dr. Blake and the brain from brainwashing not only Missassauga but the entire nation (his television show is about to be broadcast nationally). The hallucinatory bits were my favourite part of the movie. And, no, not just because they would occasionally feature Christine Kossak's frightfully precise/imprecise nipples. Wait a minute, what am I saying? That's explicitly why they were my favourite bits. The film's many chase scenes, on the other hand, were tedious and a bit of chore to sit through. So, to sum things up: Icy blonde lady scientists with frightfully precise/imprecise nipples. Yay! Dull, protracted chase scenes across the insipid Missassauga landscape. Nay!

Prom Night III: The Last Kiss (Ron Oliver, 1990)

The gym's been repainted and the bloodstains from Mary Lou's late '80s rampage have been removed just in time for prom season at Hamilton High, the unluckiest high school in all of Southern Ontario, er, I mean, Southern Ohio. Oh, who am I kidding? This direct-to-video horror comedy was obviously filmed somewhere in the Greater Toronto Area. While Prom Night III: The Last Kiss, directed by Ron Oliver and Peter Simpson, embraces the tone of its awesome predecessor (campy dialogue, teased hair, gaudy sweaters, and a retro fifties motif), it's completely different in terms of ghastliness. The kills, for instance, are all executed in the goofiest manner possible in this film. Sure, they were pretty goofy in Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II, but I think most fans of the prom night series will agree that you can't get any goofier than the sight of heavyweight boxer George Chuvalo screaming like a little girl as a result of being stabbed through the hands with ice cream cones by a shapely woman standing over a sign that says, "yum-yum" or the sight of the captain of the football team (Go, Badgers! Go!) being impaled on a goalpost by a corkscrew-tipped pigskin. Well, you could try to be goofier, but I'm afraid that would be a fruitless endeavour. The third film in the epic saga sees unbalanced 1950s Prom Queen and opera glove enthusiast, Mary Lou Maloney (this time played by the physically arousing Courtney Taylor), using a nail file, breaks out of the fiery depths of hell (a hilarious intro that boasts the leggiest chain gang sequence in the long, storied history of leggy chain gang sequences)

This leggy chain gang sequence you speak of, surely it can't be real? Oh, it's real, my leg appreciating friend. A group of women, their legs sheathed in torn black stockings, do their best of impression of the Rockettes, while Mary Lou Maloney, a gal who has clearly had enough of hell, plans her escape. What's great about this opening sequence, besides the nylon-assisted legginess, is the fact that all the women seem surly. You would surly too if you had to wear ripped lingerie in hell. What am I saying? Of course you wouldn't be surly. If anything you would be pleased as punch by the scenario that plays out at the beginning of this film. But I'm sure normal people would not be pleased.

Her first order of business upon returning to the hallways of Hamilton High is to murder a janitor with a weak ticker. While the death of the school's custodian was satisfactory in terms of feeding her deranged blood lust (it helped that the mop jockey knew she back in the fifties, as she likes her sinister deeds to have a personal touch - killing people at random is not her style), Mary Lou discovers that she needs for a student to fall in love with her in order for her power to be fully restored.

The classically curvaceous Mary Lou chooses Alex Grey (a wide-eyed Tim Conlon), an average kid of average height and shoe size, who is just trying to survive high school with his sanity intact. She watches over the geeky senior by murdering the teachers (electric egg beaters), guidance counselors (acid makeover) and students (weaponized sports equipment) that stand his way. Of course, Alex doesn't want her to kill them, but he helps her dispose of their soon-to-be-rotting bodies like a good little sex maniac. You see, he likes to rub up against in a naked kind of way. And why wouldn't he? She looks like a cross between Sherilyn Fenn and Monica Lewinsky (an enchanting combination, if you ask me).

On top of eliminating anyone she perceives to be a threat, Mary Lou helps Alex get to the top of honour list and assists him on the football field.

The sudden change in Alex's behaviour pleases his parents (good grades, increased self-esteem), yet it angers Sarah (Cynthia Preston), his steady, non-evil girlfriend. Even though the two were having relationship issues long before Mary Lou came along (she's not getting her "I love you" returned as much as she used to), her malevolent presence seems to be exacerbating the situation.

Gorgeous, alluring, and, of course, proportionately sound from top to shapely bottom, Courtney Taylor puts on an veritable acting clinic as Mary Lou Maloney, Hamilton High's resident undead harpy. Appearing to Alex in various guises, Courtney is given the opportunity to stretch her muscles as a performer in almost every scene. Whether pretending to be a news anchor or a soda jerk, Courtney manages to convey a sense of believability; despite the fact she's playing a dead teenager from the nineteen-fifties.

The immensely attractive Cynthia Preston (who is also terrific in Pin: A Plastic Nightmare) takes on the uncomplicated role of Sarah with the righteousness of a perfectly stitched jean skirt. A bit of a dim bulb at the film's commencement, Cyndy actually begins develop some plucky attributes by the film's end. Her bravery when it came to battling Mary Lou and her army of the undead prom goers, not to mention, and her improvised flamethrower antics in the prom version of hell against the demonic jukebox and the aforementioned army zombies, for example, was quite impressive. However, it was her delivery of the line, "I don't get mad, I bake!" that was the biggest eye-opener for me, as she managed to turn an act of passive aggressive meekness into an act that oozed girl power.

While not quite as punchy as part two, Prom Night III: The Last Kiss is a surprisingly worthy addition to the prom night movie franchise.

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Pin: A Plastic Nightmare (Sandor Stern, 1988)

I first heard about Pin: A Plastic Nightmare a couple of weeks ago while watching "Nightmare in Canada" (a documentary about Canada's contribution to the horror genre - from The Mask in 1961, all the way up to Ginger Snaps in 2000), and I have to say, out of all the films they showcased, it was this overlooked little gem from the late '80s that intrigued me the most (Rock 'n' Roll Nightmare being a close second). So when I saw that it was playing on cable this month, I jumped on it with booth feet. The word "creepy" can't be used enough when describing this flick. In what has to be one of the most unnerving films about a shy teen obsessed with a medical teaching dummy ever made. Sure, it has nothing in the way of gore, but the Sandor Stern-directed oddity more than makes up for it with its audacious premise. Which pretty much blows Mannequin: On the Move and Child's Play 3: Look Who's Stalking out of the ceramic sludge in terms of sheer weirdness. The film's demented plot centres around the deceptively wholesome existence of Leon (David Hewlett) and Ursula (Cynthia Preston), a brother and sister duo who live in a palatial home with their eccentric parents: Mom (Bronwen Mantel) is an anal retentive neat freak and their strict Father (Terry O'Quinn) is a doctor.

Using ventriloquy to throw his voice, dad pretends that Pin–the skinless medical teaching dummy sitting against the wall of his office–is talking with Leon and Ursula (expelling medical advice in a slightly eerie voice). Only Leon thinks Pin is really talking. In order to quell this seemingly harmless case of dewy-eyed psychosis, his father tells him not to talk to Pin when he is not around. Of course, Leon ignores his father and starts to form an unhealthy attachment to Pin. The most compelling aspect about Pin... was the fact that we never really know if Pin can actually talk, or if Leon is just plain crackers. I mean, we can hear him speaking, but it's not clear where the voice is coming from. Hence, much bewilderment is obtained from these scenes.

The lovely Helene Udy as Marcia Bateman.

The performance of David Hewlett (Cube) as Leon is downright creepy in its oddness. His bookish clothing make him stand out at his mullet-friendly high school, but the fact that his best friend is made out of plastic is probably one of the key ingredients to his quirkiness.

The underrated Cynthia Preston (Prom Night III: The Last Kiss) is appealing as Ursula, and holds her own despite her wild, outmoded mane of hair. Ursula loves her brother, but thinks his obsession with that "stupid dummy" has gone on long enough. (She tolerates his doll fixation because she doesn't want him to end up in a mental institution.) I liked the chemistry between the two actors. Though, I thought they should have played up the incestuous nature of their relationship a bit more. I mean, not only would it have made things a whole lot creepier, it also would've been extremely titillating...in a "I would never condone this type of behaviour" kinda way.

Speaking of wrongful titillation, there's a scene that was so inappropriate, that it had me desperately clutching for my world renowned self-respect. A thirteen-year-old Leon is about to start chatting with Pin when a nurse interrupts them. As she enters, Leon hides behind one of them medical curtain thingys and proceeds to watch in horror as the not-so-fetching nurse grabs Pin and starts rubbing his frame against her highly aroused body. And before you can ask "Is Pin anatomically correct"? The randy nurse is slamming Pin's synthetic prick inside the voluptuous cavern located between her legs (which are covered with standard issue white hosiery). The nurse's orgasmic cooing prompts little Leon to cover his ears, but it can't prevent the traumatic episode from spiraling into a scar-inducing fiasco. Anyway, I have nothing but reverence for this scene. There's a mollifying innocence to female self-satisfaction, especially when it's performed this creatively.

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