BAD RONALD RANTS! The Munsters Remake!?!

Yeah sure, I'm an angry bastard sometimes.  Especially when my childhood joys are fondled like money making trinkets by some money hungry Industry dink. Is there no one left in Hollywood or TV land who can formulate an original idea anymore?

... again!

From The Hollywood Reporter:

"...As first reported by TV Guide, the network is developing a remake of The Munsters with Pushing Daisies creator Bryan Fuller, The Hollywood Reporter has confirmed.

New NBC Entertainment topper Robert Greenblatt is said to like the idea of a remake and has asked Fuller to take another attempt at the project.

Fuller and NBC first made an attempt to revive the 1960s CBS sitcom last year, with the Peacock ultimately passing. Fuller’s new look is said to be an edgier and slightly darker hour long take exploring origins of Herman and Lily Munster (Fred Gwynne and Yvonne De Carlo) and how they arrived at the famed 1313 Mockingbird Lane address..."

Edgier?  Darker? Origins?  What the function junction?  Hey Greenblatt -- why not make up your own story about a bunch of dead people who come back to life and live in suburbia, and clunk it up with your silly mythology and dark edgy origins?  Why can't we have our Munsters just the way we like them?  Silly, mild, and fun?  

Listen you little Hollywood twit... why don't you fuck off!

This remake business is really getting to be a bummer. 

NBC has also announced a reboot of another 60s classic sitcom Bewitched.  Oy!

PEEP-HOLE REVIEW: Night of the Living Dead:Reanimated

Night of the Living Dead: Reanimated (2009 Wild Eye Releasing)Fans of George Romero's cult classic flesh ripper are gonna be pleased to see this one. The folks at Neoflux Productions came up with a clever idea, to gather a cast of animators and illustrators to "reanimate" the B/W original, replacing the films live action footage with animation, all laid over the original soundtrack.

This one is purely for the fans, though. Not that anyone would get sick of watching the 1968 gruesome flick, but NOTLD:R gives horror fans a chance to see the 40 year old creeper with new eyes, as (re)imagined by some of the coolest artists out there.

Just a Nibble, Please

As I've mentioned before, I'm not that into big FX movies. So, why the hell am I looking so forward to seeing Piranha 3D?! I haven't even cared to see a 3D flick since I saw Friday the 13th: 3D... well, maybe that explains it. I still don't have a desire to see Avatar, and I probably never will (I've barred anything with James Cameron's name on it from my life).

Oh wait... I think the reason why is coming back to me. Kinda reminds me of another movie poster...

Oh yeah! That's why I went to see this flick as well. Monsters and bums! What a good reason to slap down some hard earned bucks at the local bijou. [Yes, I know Cameron was one of the directors of this film]

I gotta admit -- and I'm sure I'm not the only one here -- that my adoration of these genre flicks was nourished by their marriage of gore and girls, or more specifically girl's bods. As far as I can remember, pretty young things and nasty ghoulish things were linked, arm in bloody arm, doing the Thriller skank.

I've been watching movies all my life, and I was proud to have known the names Roger Corman, Samuel Z. Arkoff and William Castle since I was a spit in the pants. I could tell a Hammer Horror from an Amicus flick before the opening credits rolled. I saw every Vincent Price frightening flick before I was 10. And the image of Raquel Welch sporting a fur mini skirt from One Million Years B.C. was hanging from my bedpost quicker than I could rip it from my older (and very pissed off) brother's Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine.

Yes, sultry skin and torn flesh have made me who I am today. So, no bother that James "Dickweed" Cameron is the new Godfather of 3D -- I'm going to see the "feels like I'm there getting laid and having my skin chewed off" spectacle of Piranha 3D in a theater.

REVIEW: Sorority Row (2009)

Frat Girls Go To Hell!!
Wow! What a stellar opening sequence! Big time one take shot that moves through a killer frat party. Hot!! Girls dancing with their bums hanging out. Sweet!! An impromptu dance number! Boing!! Half nekkid chicks getting their bellies painted. Why wasn't I ever in a frat? Wait... what's that you say? This isn't a frat party? It's a sorority party? What! But all the frat sisters are talking smut and slamming shots and funneling beers and showing each other their puppies. You sure this ain't a frat party? What's that you say? Oh yeah, you're right... It's a frat boys wet dream.
What a ridiculously moronic movie this was. Yeah sure, hot girls trotting around in drool inducing wardrobes -- I get it! I like it!! I'm not a dick. But please, if there is ever a court trial that will forever outlaw horror remakes, I'm gonna put on my tightest, shortest Ally McBeal courtroom dandy outfit and enter Sorority Row as Exhibit A B C D E F and G. What a load of wasted DNA.
As the wild party drills on, the top dog Sisters gather to toast their graduating and moving out into the real world to be possible future Real Housewives cast members. To top off their night they prank one of the Sister's beaus. He's been a naughty bird, pecking around another girls seedlings, and so, as the Sisters say, you don't mess with a Beta Phi -- or whatever the eff frat they belong to. Anyway, they pretend that he's OD'd his girlfriend with roofies, and convince him that they need to bury her body to avoid ruining their lives. Nice prank, eh! Only the doofus wants to make sure the girl is totally dead by driving a tire iron into her breastbone. Dun dun dah!! What follows is the worst bit of screenwriting ever imagined. Instead of being just scared, stupid, vapid girls trying not to shit their spankies, the writers (I won't embarrass them by revealing names) trot out the most ridiculous speech about damaged images and ruined careers and scarlet letters. But wait -- they didn't murder the girl. The stupid tweaked out boy did. They're scott-free, if they just had any sense. But the more they discuss the situation, the more convoluted it gets. So, long and short -- the Sisters start getting texts (how absolutely trendy) from the dead girl.Oh snap! Who's sending them? Is it the hot little sister of the dead Sister? Is it the disgusting, smelly janitor who peeks in the windows at their pillow fights (never happened) or is it the boyfriend of the heroine, who is so obviously the killer, because he is so obviously the least likely to be the killer -- oops! I mean spoiler alert.
Sorry, didn't mean to ruin the, um... surprise ending. Oh hell -- I totally meant it. Seriously, I would say don't bother with this flick... except for all the girls. There is some good acting here -- especially Leah Pipes as the head bitch Jessica. She gives a performance that was a throwback to the nasty bitch girls of the 70s and 80s slashers, even though the writers crafted her as yet another Mean Girlesque knock-off.
The direction and writing was def Zeta grade. You can just imagine the writers high-5ing and bumping tummies as they write the words midriff and breasts, and dream up tired, played out kill sequences. I actually have no idea why this even shares the name Sorority Row. It bears no resemblance to the classic original -- aside from the obvious. Is the title suppose to draw the over 40 crowd who would likely have seen the original? Were 20somethings just chomping at the bit, screaming about wanting another remake of a horror flick that they have no prior knowledge of? Honestly, I think they have an octopus on staff, who presses IMDb buttons to select the next candidate for a worthless remake.

Return to the Haunted Drive-In

I honestly don't remember the last time I went to the drive-in.  It's been a couple decades, at least.  Funny thing is, for close to 15 years I lived in the home of drive-in movies -- New Jersey!  Sad thing is,  the state where the Drive-In was born now has only ONE remaining Drive-In.  The good thing is, I now live right down the road from a fully operating, two screen Drive-In movie theater.  Even gooder news is that this past weekend, they ran a horror double-feature.  Bad news is, one of the movies was  A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET.  The other was THE CRAZIES.

I can understand why they wanted to remake A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET.  The original wasn't really so great, so sure, give it a try.  Try and make it work.  Yeah yeah, I know -- it's a modern genre classic and all that iconic shit.  But honestly, the production was laughably sloppy (for a studio release), the acting was about as wooden as Pinocchio off of his strings, and Freddy was just not funny, at all.  For the remake, not much changed except for the production quality.  The budget was obviously stepped up with piled-on CG FX and Michael Bay's paycheck, but the acting was (GASP!) even more dismal!  This was possibly thee goomiest movie I've ever seen outside of an Art House theater.  And I'm not talking gloomy as in oh, I feel so sad and effected.  No, I'm talking moaning and groaning at every overwrought cliche and boomingly forcasted foreshadowing -- I mean, c'mon!  We already know that the parents played let's-chase-the-pervert-to-the-wharehouse-and-burn-him-like-Frankenstein, so why all the dopey knowing glances, stuttered explanations and furrowed brows?  As for the kids -- take the Debby-downers from the FINAL DESTINATION and make them more morose, and you're getting close to how mopey these kids of ELM STREET are.  No, I'm not expecting levity or lightheartedness from a horror movie, but the ostentatious fog of doom and gloom is so thick it chokes off all the excitement that should accompany a slasher flick.

The worst part of this glum gore fest is Jackie Earle Haley as Freddy Kreuger.  Not to take anything away from Haley as an actor -- he's done brilliant work in the past -- but director Sam Bayer gave him nothing to chew on.  It's as if the filmmakers made a collective decision to steer as far away from the hammy, sideshow comic schtick of Robert Englund's version of Freddy, that they ended up with the most dry, mono-toned monster in moviedome.  A more seasoned director than Bayer could've figured out a way to make Freddy dastardly and sinister, without all the bad puns.  But clearly, when you hire a well known music video director, you're looking more for the dazzling FX rather than performances.

Part two of the double feature was THE CRAZIES, a remake of one of George Romero's lesser known works. It's a well worn chestnut about small town folk being effected by yet another military FUBAR.  This time, a military plane carrying a volatile cache of chemical weaponry goes down in the marshes of an Iowan farm community, releasing the toxins into the drinking water supply.  The effect on the townspeople is bizarre and violent, turning them into crazed killers. 

The remake is helmed by Breck Eisner, son of uber-boss Michael Eisner.  But the Eisner offspring doesn't let the silver spoon in his mouth get in the way of his directing.  Taking a page from the original director's notebook, Eisner does well at keeping the share of the focus on the townspeople and their plight.  The performances are riveting, from the bit parts up to the leads -- especially from Timothy Olyphant, as the town's well-intentioned sheriff, and Joe Anderson, as Olyphant's off the cuff deputy.  They're like a modern day, dry-humored version of Andy Taylor and Barney Fife -- only this Deputy Fife has more than one bullet at his diposal. 

The only problem with this flick is that it lacks the visceral paranoia that filled the original movie.  There was something in the air throughout the 60s and 70s that infiltrated the films.  It smelled a lot like Viet Nam, the Generation Gap, the Civil Rights movement, and the underlying rebellion against The Man.  The cultural climate was surely reflected in many films of the era, both out of Hollywood and from the smaller independent studios, and it gave the films some weight and social awareness.  They weren't message movies, but the filmmakers were skilled at making a story work without beating the audience over the head, and by keeping the politics in the cogs of the plot, instead of as a subplot.  It's a shame that Eisner didn't pick up on this tip, seeing that our own present social climate is ripe with the oder of unrest.  Instead of delving into the dissimulation and hypocrisy surrounding the political arena and of our own evolving morality, Eisner and the writers kept safely to the standard fear-of-authority routine.  It certainly wasn't the dismal mess that ELM STREET was, but THE CRAZIES was still a great Drive-In choice.