Excision (Richard Bates Jr., 2012)

When one of Gerald's friends in Welcome Home, Roxy Carmichael tells him that he thinks Winona Ryder's Dinky Bossetti is "ugly," I remember saying to myself: You have got to be fucking kidding? Sure, Dinky's hair is an unkempt disaster and her wardrobe looks like something a homeless Goth might wear, but she still looks like Winona Ryder (her skin is like porcelain). This lack of credibility when it came to taking the other character's perception of Dinky seriously didn't exactly ruin the movie for me, but it did irk me to a certain degree. Well, in a recent film called Excision, we're introduced to a character who comes pretty close to embodying the spirit of Dinky Bossetti, The Queen of Teen Angst. Except, instead of obsessing over a woman she thinks is her mother and taking care of  a menagerie of animals (each with a carpet sample to call their own), AnnaLynne McCord's Pauline dreams of performing surgery on her ill sister in her parent's garage, and, not to mention, looks at her bloody tampons with a wide-eyed, weigela-scented sense of wonder.

In the spirit of transparency, I should tell you that I watched Excision, written and directed by Richard Bates Jr., immediately after seeing Ryan Nicholson's Hanger. Why am I telling you this, you ask? It's simple, really. Both films feature characters who like to admire tampons that have been drenched in recently excreted menstrual blood. Talk about your weird coincidences.

Things get even weirder, coincidence-wise, when Excision throws an unorthodox abortion scene at us. If you remember correctly, Hanger boasts a gruesome coat-hanger abortion scene, too. While not as graphic as the scene in Hanger, the Excision abortion scene is nothing to poo-poo about. I think most of you will agree, putting an aborted foetus in a microwave oven (one that appears to have been specifically designed to dispose of unwanted foetal waste) after extracting it with your hand isn't something you see everyday, either.

However, that's where the similarities end. You see, whereas Hanger is a hate-filled, misogynistic slab of putrid bile masquerading as entertainment, Excision has a strong female lead and surreal flights of fancy that are visually interesting.

Oooh, I just remembered, the real reason I brought up Welcome Home, Roxy Carmichael. It's true, I already made my point regarding the two films, but I sort of got taken off track by the whole tampon/abortion thing. Anyway, I felt Excision got the look of the teenage outsider right.

Now, I've since discovered that AnnaLynne McCord has been on a lot television shows. But since I've never seen any of them, I approached AnnaLynne McCord as just another actress. Meaning, I didn't spend the bulk of the film thinking: Wow, the chick from 90210 is doing some freaky ass shit in this movie.

You could view this as just another example of an attractive actress "going ugly" for critical accolades. And, after looking at some of the pictures of AnnaLynne McCord outside the Excision universe, I can see how some might take that particular view. But I don't think that's what's going on here, as AnnaLynne McCord seems fully-committed to the role of Pauline, a troubled teen who has a, let's just say, rich and colourful imagination.

The film opens inside the realm of this rich and colourful imagination. In there we see two versions of Pauline facing each other. One is twitching like a Clicker (the nickname given to humans in the third stage of the Ophiocordyceps Unilateralis infection - I despise Clickers, by the way) from The Last of Us, while the other is sitting still. Suddenly, the twitchy Pauline starts bleeding profusely from her nose and mouth. When the twitchy Pauline spits blood all over the still Pauline, the real Pauline wakes up.

Whew, for a minute I thought the entire film was going to take place inside this antiseptic nightmarescape. Don't get me wrong, I could have handled it. But, nevertheless, I appreciated the fact that Richard Bates Jr. didn't go overboard when doling out the weirdness.

Besides, there's plenty of weirdness to go around in the real world. I mean, John Waters plays a reverend, Malcolm McDowell plays a math teacher, Ray Wise plays a high school principal, Matthew Gray Gubler plays a sex ed. teacher and best of all, Traci Lords plays Pauline's mother.

After watching Pauline's family, which also includes Bob (Roger Bart), her henpecked father, and Grace (Ariel Winter), her little sister (who has cystic fibrosis), sitting together at the breakfast table for just a few seconds, it's obvious that they're a tad on the dysfunctional side.

Asking her sex ed. teacher if you can contract an STD by having sex with a dead body establishes right away that Pauline ain't hooked up right. I know, the twitchy, blood spewing dream sequence already did a pretty good job of establishing that. But, to be fair, everyone dreams about spastic doppelgängers who vomit blood; it's one of the great things about being human.

While each dream sequence is different, they all pretty much stick with the same theme. And that is: Blood, bandages, bodies and sex. Oh, and did I mention blood?

Approaching Adam (Jeremy Sumpter), who is sitting on the bleachers at school with his friends, Pauline tells the startled teen that she wants to lose her virginity with him. Now, most teenage boys wouldn't hesitate for a second to accept an offer like that. But then again, Pauline isn't your average teenage girl -- At one point she tells her sister, "When I lose my virginity, I want to be on my period." Yum.

In an obvious shout-out to Heathers, we see Pauline and Grace playing crochet on their front lawn. Later that night, guess who calls Pauline? That's right, Adam. It would seem that he's willing to look past her greasy hair, bad posture, acne and unruly eyebrows in order to attain some guilt-free teenage poontang. It's too bad it's soaking in menstrual blood. Don't believe me, take a look in the mirror, the bloodstained fruits of your cunnilingual labour are all over your face.

In an upcoming scene, Pauline will compare Adam's pussy eating technique to a dog drinking water (which, apparently, isn't a good thing - I love the thought of a guy lapping up my labia like a thirsty dog). She also describes Adam's girlfriend's vagina as a "diseased axe wound." Hee. Oh, and when Adam's girlfriend (who, by the way, doesn't know how to spell "cunt") tries to give Pauline a piece of advice, she says, "Make it quick, I gotta go take a shit." Classy.

Even though I didn't approve with a lot of what Pauline gets up to in this film, I couldn't help but sympathize with her outlandish predicament. And that's thanks in part to the amazing performance given by AnnaLynne McCord. The exact same thing can be said for Traci Lords, who kills it as Pauline's overbearing mother. If you're going to see one movie about a surgery-obsessed teen with  fallen arches, make it Excision. It's well-made, darkly funny and is sprinkled with fine performances. Oh, and did I mention blood?

Cat People (Paul Scrader, 1982)

Dare I fetishize thigh-high hip waders? (What are you talking about? You better fetishize thigh-high hip waders. I mean, I didn't click on your review of Paul Schrader's for you not to fetishize thigh-high hip waders.) Fine. I'll fetishize thigh-high hip waders. If the reason the name "Paul Schrader" sounds familiar, it's because he wrote Taxi Driver. (Hey, what do you think you're doing?) Um, hello? I'm writing about Cat People. (I can see that, but what about the thigh-high hip waders? I'm no brain doctor, but the thigh skin that periodically pokes out from the top of  Nastassja Kinski's thigh-high hip waders while fishing for some crawfish from a Louisina river ain't going to describe itself.) But I read somewhere that it's mandatory to mention the fact that Paul Schrader wrote Taxi Driver when doing a review of Cat People, or any other non-Taxi Driver-related Paul Schrader film for that matter. (Since when do you do what's mandatory? You're going to stand out from the crowd if you blather endlessly about the brief scene where the too luminous for words Nastassja Kinski wears thigh-high hip waders.) But won't I come off as perverted and weird if I do that? (Yeah, but you want to come off as perverted and weird.) I do? (You know it.) Okay, if you say so. All right, let me think, how does one craft a movie review that centres around thigh-high hip waders? (Well, first of all, you should stop calling them "thigh-high hip waders." Think about it, how can they be thigh-high and go up to your hip at the same time?) You mean I should call them thigh-high fishing boots instead? (Or better yet, just drop the "hip.")

You would think Paul Schrader was channeling Jess Franco by the way his camera focuses on Nastassja Kinski as she struggles to deposit some recently caught crawfish into a bucket. (Are you implying that Paul's decision to show Nastassja bending over with her back to the camera was gratuitous? 'Cause if you are, you would be dead wrong. The reason he does this is to show that the curator of the New Orleans Zoological Park is developing amorous feelings towards Miss Kinski.) Don't you think it's obvious that he's developing amorous feelings towards her? He did, after all, land her a sweet job at the zoo's gift shop. (That's true, but nothing sends prudish American men over the titillation edge more than the sight of an ambiguously European woman bending over in thigh-high fishing boots. It's science! Okay, maybe it's not an exact science; more like a loose collection of half-baked theories and asinine brain anomalies. But can you think of anything else that's sexier than the sight of Nastassja Kinski in thigh-high fishing boots?)

Oh, I don't know, how about the sight of Lynn Lowry (Score) in black stockings? (Holy crap, that is sexier.) Told you. And get this, I've always thought Lynn Lowry had a bit of a feline vibe about her. (But she doesn't play a cat person in Cat People.) I know, but she plays a prostitute who attracts a cat person. (I think I get it. She's not a cat person.) Right. (But cat people find her attractive.) Keep going. (Hence, she has a feline vibe about her.) Bingo! (I can't believe I'm about to say this, but that makes perfect sense.)

Cat people might find her attractive, but that doesn't mean they're not going to try to tear her apart. You see, cat people can only have sex with other cat people. No matter how appealing they may look in black lingerie, the desire to rip the flesh from their bones is unstoppable.

Now, someone, like, say, a cynical prostitute with a flat stomach, might have no trouble whatsoever deciding that it's probably a bad idea to get romantically involved with a cat person. But what if you're a mild-mannered curator of an old-timey zoo (one that stills uses cages with bars) who falls in love like it were bodily function, what advice would give them?

Step softly and always have enough rope on hand, as you never know when you might have to tie your cat girlfriend to a bed. (Yikes, that sounds kinky.) Yeah, I guess it sort of does. But then again, I was mildly turned on by the scene where Ruby Dee explains the origin of character's name, so, maybe I'm not the best person to decide what is kinky and what is not kinky.

(Don't worry, you're not in danger of losing your kink cred. The scene where a human male ties up his human/black leopard hybrid girlfriend so he can have sexual intercourse with her without having to worry about being torn apart during the post-coital aftermath is definitely kinky.) That's a relief, for a minute there I thought I was being a fuddy-duddy.

Just curious, am I the only one who thought Ruby Dee was smoking hot in this movie? Interesting, none of you have your hands raised, but I'm noticing some slight nodding here and there. Meaning, I wasn't the only one. Sure, her basement is filled with the half-eaten corpses of hookers and teenage runaways, but her accent is sexy and her bone structure is sublime.

Speaking of bone structure, Nastassja Kinski! Oh my god! Talk about sublime. I can't believe this is my first Nastassja Kinski film. (Are you sure about that? Maybe you should skim through her film credits.) Nah, I don't feel like doing that. Besides, this is definitely the first Nastassja Kinski film I've seen in the past ten years. Either way, I would have loved to have seen this film in theatre when it came out in the early '80s, as I would have loved to have heard the loud gasps coming from the audience the moment when Nastassja Kinski first appears onscreen. She is simply stunning.

Meeting her long lost brother Paul (Malcolm McDowell) at the airport in New Orleans, Irena (Nastassja Kinski) seems excited to start her new life in The Big Easy. Taking her to his fancy house on Weird French Name Street in the Gumbo District (Go Saints, Go!), Malcolm, I mean, Paul, introduces Irena to Ruby Dee's Female (pronounced "fee-molly"), a Renfield-esque woman who takes care of Paul's affairs when he's out busy doing cat stuff.

After some awkward brother-sister closeness (I totally thought they were going to kiss at one point), Irena goes to sleep. But does Paul go to sleep? I don't think so. Donning a black tank-top, Paul, after doing some awkward brother-sister lurking in Irena's bedroom, heads out for the evening.

Even though we don't see Malcolm McDowell for quite some time, I'll go ahead and assume that he has transformed into the black leopard that is currently resting underneath a bed in a cheap hotel. Sitting on said bed is Ruthie (Lynn Lowry), a sexy prostitute who is dressed exactly the way a prostitute is supposed to dress.

Let's give her hooker ensemble a quick once over, shall we? Black bra? Check. Black stockings held up with black suspenders? Check. Black garter belt? Check. Black heels? Check. You see, she's perfect.

(Wait, you forgot to ask if she has a nasty gash on her right ankle.) Why would I ask that? Hold on, the black leopard resting underneath the bed she is currently sitting on is starting to get grumpy. You know what that means? Nasty gash on her right ankle? Check.

Here's a fun-fact: It turns out the gooey residue cat people leave behind when they transform from humans to leopards is edible. Gooey residue, it's what's for dinner...after you have just torn apart the bubbly blonde chick who gives sage advice to not-so bubbly brunettes from The Beach Girls; I'm talking about Tessa Richarde, by the way, she plays Billie, a ditzy gal who comes face-to-face with Paul's inability to get hard when he's with women who are not his sister.

Also struggling to come to terms with the fact she can't have sex with humans without getting the urge to tear them apart afterwards is Irena, who takes a liking to Oliver (John Heard from C.H.U.D.), an easy-going zookeeper. Someone should tell Irena to look somewhere else, but Alice (Annette O'Toole), a fellow zookeeper, is going out with Oliver. Oh, and before you say: Who wouldn't dump someone in order to go on a sexual bender with Nastassja Kinski? Please remember, Alice is played by Annette O'Toole. Who's she, you ask? Um, she's a redhead. And no no bra-wearing piece of Euro-trash can tarnish the intrinsic allure of a well-moisturized redhead.

This "intrinsic allure" could be real, but Oliver is totally making a play for Irena (he got her a job at the zoo's gift shop). I wonder if he knows that she's the descendent of an ancient tribe of leopard people? I don't think it matters, these cat folks have a way about them that causes non-cat folks to lose their kitty litter.

I know someone else who might have a problem with this cross-species relationship, and his name is Paul. Oh, yeah, I forgot about him. Torn between the human world and the animal kingdom, Irena must decide which realm is for her. Actually, the choice is actually between BDSM and incest, if you think about it.

With help of Italians Ferdinando Scarfiotti ("visual consultant") and legendary electronic music producer Giorgo Moroder, Paul Schrader has made one of the sexiest American horror movies of all-time. (So, what you're saying is, if it wasn't for the two Italian men you just mentioned, the film wouldn't have been sexy?) Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. I mean, would someone who wasn't under the influence of Italians have Annette O'Toole wear mismatched bra and panties? I don't think so. Featuring vibrant colours and a great location, Cat People is a rarity: A glossy Hollywood movie with a wonderfully perverted European sensibility.

Get Crazy (Allan Arkush, 1983)

Made during a time when superficial mayhem wasn't even close to being frowned upon, the little seen Get Crazy is a stark reminder of how playful music used to be. Of course, I'm not saying that music isn't fun anymore (Karen O. seems like a fun gal), but the music world presented in this film is not same as the one we live in – you know, the one where a teen pop star gets scolded for displaying her naked back, or touching a pole in an erotic fashion. For one thing, sex and drugs are openly pursued, and behaving irresponsibly in public is not only encouraged, it's mandatory. Hell, even the seemingly straight-laced Paul Bartel (Eating Raoul) jumps willy-nilly from a lofty balcony at the behest of a screaming punk singer named Piggy (Lee Ving - the most Aussie-looking Minnesotan ever). Promoting the convergence of rock and roll, new wave, blues rock, glam rock and punk, director Allan Arkush (Rock 'n' Roll High School) presents a universe where these distinct styles can commingle and thrive all under the same roof. Presenting the shockingly simplistic tale of a storied theatre (The Saturn) being threatened by comically evil tycoon (Ed Begley Jr.) just as their about to put a big New Year's show to ring in 1983, the rowdy film mainly focuses on Neil Allen (Daniel Stern) and his desperate struggle to maintain a semblance of sanity as the kooky array of acts slowly begin to show up at the theatre.

Each musical act gets to the gig in their own unique style: A group of hippies lead by Captain Cloud (Howard Kaylan) arrive early, but also kinda late (they thought it was Dec. 31, 1968); a blues band called King Blues (fronted by Bill Henderson) get to the show in a smashed up Rolls Royce -- Cool (Franklin Ajaye) ain't the best driver; a mildly depraved glam rocker named Reggie Wanker (Malcolm McDowell) arrives via his groupie-filled, cocaine-fueled jet plane; and Auden (Lou Reed), a metaphysical folk singer, tells the cab driver to take the "scenic route" (he's still working on a song).

An energetic Lori Eastside and her band Nada (with Lee Ving in the trunk) make my favourite entrance, in what can be best described as a garish presentation of new wave/punk clothing, hair and makeup. I liked how each Nada member got their moment in the sun (fashion-wise) as they got out of their car.

Complicating matters–but only slightly–is Neil's little sister Susie (Stacey Nelkin), who desperately wants to attend the show, and the welcome arrival of Willy (Gail Edwards), an attractive friend and former employee of the Saturn's ailing owner.

The rambunctious Susie reminded me Stephanie Kaye (Nicole Stoffman's character from Degrassi Junior High) and Debbie Strand (the temptress played by Rose McGowan in Devil in the Flesh), in that they all left their places of residence in drab, unsexy clothes, but transported themselves into more trollop-friendly attire along the way to their desired location. Only difference being that Stephanie and Debbie were going to school dressed like pg-rated prostitutes. Susie, on the other hand, was attending a wild concert that would feature a giant walking and talking marijuana joint, Malcolm McDowell's massive crotch bulge, and Mary Worornov in an angora sweater.

A series of fantasy sequences that featured a scantily clad Gail Edwards looking all sexy in first-rate lingerie were one of the many non-musical highlights to come out of Get Crazy, a film that is rife with moments of sheer stupidity.

Anyone familiar with his film about the adventures of Riff Randall and the Ramones will not be surprised by the fact that Allan Arkush loves to saturate the screen with childish sight gags and broad physical humour.

Combining both of these distinct styles of comedy was the little aside that featured Malcolm McDowell having a conversation with his penis. Okay, now wait a minute, that's the second time I've referred to Malcolm's genitalia, and that's one too many. Though, I have to admit, I was strangely turned on by the way his manly protrusion dented the front of his dystopian underpants in A Clockwork Orange. So... my obsession shouldn't come as a total shock. (That's four references, by the way, for those keeping score.)

Other than the feistiness of "I'm Not Going to Take It No More" by Lori Eastside, I wasn't that impressed by Get Crazy's musical performances (too much rock, not enough new wave). Luckily, the aforementioned goofiness is implemented at such a rapid pace, that I didn't really have time to effectively scrutinize the music. Besides, bloated arena rock and old timey blues music doesn't exactly scream 1983. Ending the picture, however, with a Sparks' song (the aptly titled "Get Crazy") kinda made up for some of the film's musical squareness.

You know what they say: Whether you put one at the beginning (Heavenly Bodies), plop in the middle (Valley Girl), or, in this film's case, crank it at the end, having a Sparks song on your soundtrack is a surefire way to make your film a little more awesome. Oh, and I loved how the film seemed to promote drug use.

video uploaded by lhjvirtual 80

...

Class of 1999 (Mark L. Lester, 1990)

When I heard the line: "The year is 1999... there is no law" verbalized with a slightly robotic intonation, I half expected the thumping bass intro of a killer techno jam to immediately follow its utterance. When that didn't occur, I knew I wasn't listening to my well-worn copy of Kickin Mental Detergent, but instead watching a violent oddity about a dystopian future that has already occurred. Taking place in the youth crime saturated netherworld that is the late 1990s, Class of 1999 is a film for those who love the sight of unconventionally dressed teens firing automatic weapons at one another in an after school setting, while simultaneously being stalked by their history, gym and chemistry teachers. Helmed by exploitation master Mark L. Lester (Roller Boogie), the merriment-filled flick combines the herky-jerky head movements and self-contained flamethrowers that permeate the rafters of almost every cyborg movie ever made with the sullen sneering and bad boy posturing of your typical gang picture. In other words: a marriage made in cinematic resplendence. Cap it all off with a Midge Ure song and we're really talking a marriage made in... Okay, enough already with the marriage talk; I've got cyborg action to overly praise. Focusing mainly on the post-incarceration life of Cody Culp (a hard-nosed Bradley Gregg), a recently released juvenile delinquent, the boisterous film follows him as he attempts to make it through high school in the exceedingly tough Free-Fire Zone, a section of Seattle that is off-limits to law enforcement.

Wary of his gang past (a pushy lot called the Blackhearts), Cody is hesitant to reestablish ties with his drug-addicted pals, which include Sonny (Darren E. Burrows), Mohawk (Sean Gregory Sullivan, a.k.a. the hyperactive gun dealer from Who's That Girl), and his little brother Angel (Near Dark's Joshua John Miller). Instead, he finds himself drawn to Christie (Traci Lind from My Boyfriend's Back), a comely young lass who just happens to be the principal's daughter.

On the faculty side of things, the principal (Malcolm McDowell) has given the go ahead to Dr. Bob Forrest (Stacy Keach) and his trio of cyborg teachers, Mr. Bryles (Patrick Kilpatrick), Ms. Connors (Pam Grier), and Mr. Hardin (John P. Ryan), to do a trial run at his heavily fortified learning facility.

A more clearheaded educator would have taken one look at Dr. Forest's cloudy eyes and suspect haircut and said to themselves: "This doesn't feel quite right." But the mechanical teachers are thrust into the classroom despite the obvious dangers. Monitored by a group of smart-looking people in lab coats (one of which was played by Lee Arenberg), the robo-teachers are quick to employ physical force as a means of generating obedience from the school's rambunctious pupils.

Of course, their disciplinary actions become more and more extreme as the week progresses. For example, the pipe smoking history teacher goes from rapidly spanking two students for fighting to asphyxiating one with his own drug paraphernalia after being tardy while high. When two of Cody's buds are killed, he starts to suspect that these newfangled chalkboard jockeys aren't exactly what they seem to be. It's at this moment when the Class of 1999 really starts to really crank up the crazy.

Procuring the help of Christie, Cody tries to uncover the sinister goings on at their school by doing do some suburban sleuthing (I knew it was the suburbs by the lack of sporadic gunfire), only to have the rogue teachers out maneuver them by inciting a gang war between Cody's the Blackhearts and the Razorheadz, lead by Hector (James Medina), who has already felt the heeled wrath of Pam Grier.

The showdown at the docks between the two heavily armed gangs was hands down my favourite sequence in the entire movie. The way they both positioned themselves, utilized mounds of debris as cover, and waited until everyone was ready were the first things I admired about this shootout. I mean, to see unruly gang members behave in such a chivalrous manner was rather refreshing. However, I nearly lost it when the actual shooting commenced. A virtual wave of irregular machine gun fire coming from all directions, this is exactly what I look for when it comes to on-screen mayhem. Forget about trying to figure out who's who and just sit back and watch the bullet-fueled insanity unfold.

There's one thing I can't decide, and that this, were the characters that populated this ultra-bleak universe more like the audience at your average Front 242 concert circa 1991? Or were they more akin to the loose assemblage of weirdos you might catch stage diving at a My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult gig, again, circa 1991? The sheer amount of black leather, studs, military footwear, and sullied denim worn throughout this film was mind-boggling. (Yeah, my mind is easily boggled.)

Speaking of being boggled, I'm still trying to figure out why Traci Lind's character is sporting a turban during a brief hallway encounter. She wasn't wearing it when the day began, and she certainly wasn't wearing it ended. Did she convert to Sikhism at lunch but decided to go back to her usual belief system by the time the afternoon bell rang out? Either way, it doesn't make sense because female Sikhs aren't big turban wearers. As they say, a mystery for the ages.

Anyway, heads are drilled, motorcycles are driven through the school's hallways, and flamethrowers are...thrown. Fun flick.

video uploaded by xtheunknown71

...