License to Drive

 

License to Drive is a Rite of Passage Time Capsule

by Kristin Battestella

Colorful neon road signs and fast moving opening credits set the 1988 mood of License to Drive before cool cars in dangerous chases and a cackling bus driver a la A Nightmare on Elm Street as Corey Haim's (The Lost Boys) Les Anderson sleeps thru the Driver's Ed video. After writing “I will drive safely” on the chalkboard as punishment from a teacher who hopes he never succeeds, Les does indeed fail to get his license. Naturally, he goes out on the town anyway to impress his crush Mercedes (Heather Graham), but sneaking out in his grandfather's Cadillac leads to a disastrous if memorable night for Les and his friends – wannabe cool Dean (Corey Feldman) and nerdy Charles (Michael Manasseri) – thanks to the numerous mishaps befalling Grandpa's precious Caddy.

Debut director Greg Beeman (Smallville) has ninety minutes in License to Drive and establishes the premise immediately with double duty dialogue on crushes, crusty teachers, and the generation gap. Older dudes with cool cars woo the popular girls, and the sophisticated, wealthy divides leave our boys riding double on the bicycle and embarrassed to have their parents drive them anywhere. Bullies want to play chicken,“living time bomb” Helen Hanft (Moonstruck) warns teens not to “fuck with the Department of Motor Vehicles,” and Fresh Prince's Uncle James Avery measures an uphill driving test with his perilous cup of hot coffee. The rebellious, youthful lies seem so innocent until Les says he's only going around the block but instead leaves his dad stranded in the street carrying the diapers. The boys are desperate to achieve access to forbidden hang outs and quad roller skating babes but the BMW hat is too big for the grounded sixteen year old. His mother's false labor pains, running over the hedge, and not having a license are the least of Les' problems when the police find a drunk girl in the Caddy trunk! Small scratches and dents escalate to vomit in the backseat and a drunk who thinks he's found a Maserati, yet there's a certain effortlessness and nonchalant irony while casually backing out with a maniac on the hood of the car. The camera knows when to speed up with fun point of view action and well edited cuts keep up the humorous pacing. Unlike today's superfluous drone shots or bogged down special effects, in camera actions and movements are used for scene transitions – keeping License to Drive swift and snappy as no sequence overstays its welcome. Although License to Drive does rely on convenient timing for some of its comedy and plot advances, the self-aware, winking attitude is part of the movie magic suspension of disbelief. In scene action allows punchlines to fully play out before callbacks to that hot cup of coffee and Driver's Ed being one hell of a crash course send the golf clubs flying out the broken rear windshield. Our little brother exclaims “Son of a bitch!” as a ridiculous in labor race to the hospital via a falling apart Caddy culminates in driving backwards the wrong way on the sidewalk.

Of course, we don't want the ever adorable Corey Haim to get caught sneaking out of the house without a license! Viewers feel along for the ride as another vicarious friend, and questions on if he had mono making him sleep thru the entire driving course affirm the harmless shenanigans before Les' dream night is hampered by his cautious old lady driving and sixteen going on sixty worry over his classic ride. License to Drive lets the characters, performances, and deliveries carry the humor with a drunk driver slicing limes on the dashboard and taglines like “I'm so dead they'll have to bury me twice.” Numerous quips from Haim don't get their due justice in writing, such as his having to go home with a stolen Beetle and claim that “this piece of shit is my grandfather's Cadillac!” Superb parents Richard Masur (One Day at a Time) and the pregnant with every bizarre craving Carol Kane (Scrooged) likewise have memorable laughs, anger, and hysterics. Today Heather Graham's (Boogie Nights) pink dress and party attitude is almost demure – the popular girl accustomed to older men and fancy clubs who's looking for something more while Corey Feldman (the 'burbs) gives speeches about the American Dream being the license in your pocket to be free from the humiliation of riding the school bus. Michael Manasseri (Weird Science) may seem redundant in this The Two Coreys eighties heyday, however he has some fun moments as the geeky straight man alongside Les' bookish twin sister Nina Siemaszko (The West Wing) and her militant boyfriend Grant Heslov (Good Night and Good Luck). He's angry they are going to a protest against society's oppression and materialism in an “imperialist gas guzzler,” i.e. the family Audi.

From the juicy posters in the boys' rooms, “Grandpa” license plates, and a preposterous DOS computer glitch to the breaking the fourth wall asides and humorous actions in the background, there are lots of little things to see in License to Drive. Music cues, choice stings, and fatalistic echoes set off slow motion, wide lenses, zooms, and spin outs as film making touches mirror the teenage ups, downs, and permit torn in two. The boomboxes, chewed up mixed tapes, corded phones, flash bulb camera, big computers, and rolling up the windows invoke technological nostalgia, yet a parent's denying his son a $23,000 BMW remains relatable. The slim ties, blazers with rolled up sleeves, and acid wash jeans...not so much! Perfectly timed Frank Sinatra irony and carefree Billy Ocean tunes accent the likable characters and breezy joyride that aren't meant to be taken too seriously. License to Drive is silly and flawed, absolutely. Did you have to live in the eighties to fully appreciate its carefree adventure? Perhaps. Certainly there's something to be said for manual vehicles without computers and cameras that parallel park for you! Fortunately, License to Drive does what it sets out to do in creating a humorous night on the town. Thanks to today's over analytical cinematic dire and dark buzzkill; this slaphappy, all forgiven, consequence free, sunny escapade could not be made in the post-pandemic era. Get away from it all with License to Drive's charming time capsule and bemusing rite of passage.

Female Frights Trio!

A Trio of Female Frights

by Kristin Battestella

This trio of lady horrors past and present provides plenty of paranormal revenge, quirky fatalities, and bizarre terrors for these women young or old. 

 

Dark Touch – Barking dogs, crying babies, thunderstorms, and young girls fleeing into the rain open this 2013 international co-production written and directed Marina de Van (Don't Look Back). Tongue injuries and unexplained bruises further belie the pretty Irish landscapes, and this contemporary, harsh, monochromatic house doesn't match the countryside. Yuppie doctors and reassuring adults calmly explain away why their daughter is traumatized in this home despite ringing in the ears and muffled screams inside the window. Flickering lights, footsteps, shadows, and locked doors build an ominous mood as children are told not to be afraid before they cry in bed over the subtle but no less nasty suggestions. Although nighttime blue lighting is a little too dark, clever editing makes the banging objects, moving furniture, chandelier frights, and crafty kills more terrible amid police discovery, tip toeing social workers, and acting out at the hospital. It will take time to adjust, but ongoing whispers, fear of belts, and back to school structure don't help heal this trauma. People are trying to help and see to our survivor's needs, but the awkward disconnection persists alongside secret photo albums, missing medical records, locking oneself in the bathroom, and refusing to bathe except fully clothed. Are the buzzing lights, breaking dishes, and garage mishaps something paranormal or uncontrolled telekinesis reacting to abuse? Other children are brutally honest in some refreshing exposition, and creepy sing songs lead to nearby abusers and gory retributions as a yellow patina shapes this surreal atmosphere where the fantastic allows hurt children to take matters into their own hands rather than suffer what goes on behind closed doors in this close knit, superstitious community. Adults insist it isn't this girl's fault that bad things happen, but they suspect worse as she recoils from any compassion and child's play becomes harmed dolls and fiery birthday parties. Trances and school barricades come full circle, but the well intended adults only question what they didn't know about the people closest to them when it's too late. At times, the slow pace and frequent screaming drag, and the supernatural aspects are also misleading. The artsy finale will be confusing as well, but the mix of nightmares real and horror make for interesting metaphors and conversations on the frightening truth and who really has the titular mark.

Office Killer – Carol Kane (Taxi), Molly Ringwald (The Breakfast Club), and Jeanne Tripplehorn (Basic Instinct) star in photographer turned director Cindy Sherman's 1997 dark satire of magazine deadlines, office downsizing, and meek but murderous co-workers. Phone gossip, bossy dames, cigarettes, big computers, and older fashions invoke a quirky noir feeling amid the mundane ticking clock and a greasy higher up man who's giving all the ladies his cold. The copier ink explodes on hard working Dorine with the crookedly drawn eyebrows, everyone forgets her name, and she's stuck at home making tea for her crabby old mother amid laptop upgrades and learn or get left behind memos. Late night tech support, power outages, red lighting, and orange glows make the office a little scary before creepy convulsions, thunderstorms, poison in the inhaler, and crossed wires frying associates. Morbid winks layer scenes amid well-filmed bungling crimes, messy mail room slices, and a homeless man catching one hauling out the deceased, but Dorine gains confidence in talking back to that mean corpse while the cat plays with the bodies piling up in the basement. Bloody flashbacks with sixties wagons suggest our mousy employee already had some sociopathy in her, but the trickle down office blame mixes the real world stinky of the ignored worker who sees all with horror, distorted camerawork, kaleidoscope effects, and twisted perspectives. Would she have killed if she had been treated nicely? Mom yearns for the days when a man ruled the house, and mean girls, jealousy, frienemies, and calls to the bitchy wife of the deceased from the girl he was smooching in the office create multi-faceted women's interplay. Sure let's go to lunch – so I can knock you out with a crowbar! Our little lady is pretty crafty when she wants, using primitive emails to get back at stealing accountants or cleaning decomposing bodies with Windex and making unique décor with body parts. Dorine trades tightly wound buns for better make up – letting her hair down as she receives the workplace respect she deserves. Is one hateful co-worker right to not take her sob story at face value and accuse her of playing on everyone's sympathy? It's one woman's word versus another, but the macabre, likable moments ultimately reveal how disturbed the seemingly mild-mannered Dorine truly is. The satire may be uneven, too on nose for some and not outright horror enough with bemusing violence and cut away splatter. However, the innocent, unassuming start results in flies buzzing, smelly discoveries, and a sinister character parable with shrewd commentary on women's relationships, workplace environments, childhood dynamics, social shapings of psychoses, and more.

Trilogy of Terror – Karen Black (Burnt Offerings) leads this 1975 made for television anthology from director Dan Curtis (Dark Shadows) and writer Richard Matheson (Somewhere in Time) beginning with the campus bells, bell bottoms, and coeds of “Julie.” One stud student wonders how hot this frumpy teacher would be with hazy fantasy intercuts and steamy suggestions as he spies on her undressing. Classroom talk on Faulkner rape and Fitzgerald violence lead to a spicy French vampire movie and a dollar for two large root beers at the drive in – spiked of course. It's surprising they got away with such disturbing date rape on mid-seventies television, as a check-in at the hotel as “Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Harker” leads to dark room photography and threatening notes forcing a woman to “meet” some of his friends before good old fashioned “I have the negatives” blackmail. Who is controlling whom? Newspaper scrapbooks and surprising revelations lead to the black and white reels and button up repression of Segment Two “Millicent and Therese.” Voiceover journaling recounts the family innuendo, cunning sister, fatal accidents, and satanism books on the shelf, but our prudish sibling won't let these perversions continue. All the lewd, sordid mentions are just talk done in one room confrontations – leaving enough saucy to the imagination in this near one woman show as a little voodoo puts the sibling rivalry into her own hands. Sure, it's obvious what's happening by time we see this tawdry sister in hot pants and platform shoes listening on the phone extension. However, it's taut fun, and I wish there were more star of the week, one actress in small set piece presentations today. “Amelia” adds one ugly little but cute in its own twisted way Zuni fetish tribal statue with a miniature spear, sharp teeth, and instructions on not removing its gold chain or the spirit inside will be released. .Awkward chats on the phone with mom provide comforting exposition while building drama – she wants to move on with her wild seventies kitchen, seriously floral wallpaper, shiny orange appliances, and bright teal carpet. Our tiny guy disappears under the couch, and initially, the talking to oneself is bemusing until bloody ankles, low camera angles, and tracking zooms across the floor create fear. Our young woman is home alone with scary sounds, hissing, and blood on her white robe. Yes, it is just a puppet, but the frenetic editing creates scares as this little sucker climbs up the bedskirt and sticks a stolen knife under the door. How does one explain this emergency when calling the police for help? Wrapping him in a towel or holding him under the water won't do the trick, but trapping him in a suitcase just might! Though hysterical as much as it is scary, this little battle makes for a memorable and wildly entertaining finish.

Tales from the Darkside Season 1

The Tales from the Darkside Debut Still Has Memorable Frights

by Kristin Battestella

The late George A. Romero produced the 1984-85 syndicated debut of Tales from the Darkside, a twenty-three episode anthology of original and short story adaptations with familiar faces and plenty of memorable half-hour frights. The Complete Series DVD set, however, begins with the original 1983 “Trick or Treat” pilot written by Romero and starring Bernard Hughes (The Lost Boys) as a Scrooge-like lender profiting from the ruin of others with his to the penny bookkeeping. His wealth is in money bags instead of banks, and come Halloween, he hides the IOUs from his desperate share croppers for their children to find and thus absolve their family's debt. Parents drum up their scared children to brave the annual house of horrors and the devilish wizard behind the curtain orchestration. Justly, the turnabout on this modern Dickensian spin is fair play when real horrors best our miser at his own game. More businessmen are smoking cigars and offered scotch to celebrate the latest deal in “The New Man.” Unfortunately, when a little boy shows up at the office telling his father to come home, the man doesn't recognize him – unlike his wife and older son, who are appalled by dad's mistake and refer to an alcoholic history of repeated moves and lost jobs. His life spirals back to the bottle in a surreal mix of horror and addiction, and though confusing with distorted timelines and resets, the real life consequences remain relatable. More cocktails, limousines, bribery, and homicide anchor “I'll Give You a Million” as two sophisticated old gentlemen play billiards and raise the stakes to a million dollars for one's soul. Is it tomfoolery to bet on a nonexistent property or is there something to a bad liver, senile behavior, and foul play clauses in the contract? A terminal diagnosis, however, changes the with interest and buy back offers on the deal as storms, power outages, and fatal phone calls set off the Marley-esque visitations. Likewise doctor Farley Grainger (Strangers on a Train) has a radical solution to a laid up husband's back problem in “Pain Killer.” Muscle relaxers, two weeks off from work, and acupuncture are to no avail – but maybe its his nagging wife that's really the constant pain...

Some Tales from the Darkside episodes have similar financial bargains and devilish killers, however such pay it forward macabre creates a connective undercurrent for the anthology, and a mysterious man in a white suit breaks the bookies with his lucky streak in “The Odds.” The back booth seedy and congested, smoky mood forgive the colloquial betting talk as the ticking clock counts down when the fatal stakes are due. In “Slippage,” a graphic artist loses his birth certificate, paycheck, and portfolio. His reunion invitation never comes either, and it's almost as if he doesn't exist at all when his yearbook photo disappears. No one, not even his wife, remembers him – but is it a set up or the supernatural? Horror make up artist turned director Tom Savini (Dawn of the Dead) brings the creepy hands, terrible eyes, and ghoulish reveal for “Inside the Closet” as taxidermy and a small locked closet in a rented room live up to the Tales from the Darkside name alongside skeleton keys, mouse traps, and spooky dolls. Slide protectors, atmospheric music, under the bed shadows, and swift editing for the creature attacks elevate this warped twist. Meek out of work writer Bruce Davidson (X2) wishes his late genius nephew was his in fellow Creepshow collaborator Stephen King's “The Word Processor of the Gods,” and the boy's custom built word processor has an execute button convenient for creating Spanish doubloons – as well as one big red delete key that comes in really handy. Retro text, warning phone calls, fearful confrontations, and fiery overloads accent the consequences while Bibles and organ music set the funeral scene in Robert Bloch's (Psycho) “A Case of the Stubborns.” Unfortunately for young Christian Slater (Mr. Robot) and Brent Spiner (Star Trek: The Next Generation), grandpa Eddie Bracken (Hail the Conquering Hero) doesn't recollect being dead and is too stubborn to admit it despite no heartbeat and a death certificate. The too much rouge becomes pasty skin peeling and the Board of Health doesn't like the smell, but the local voodoo woman offers a solution – pepper.

Tarot readings for a deceptive old lady swapping the card decks spells doom for Dorothy Lyman (Mama's Family) in "In the Cards." The desperation increases as thrown away cards reappear and even setting the deck on fire can't prevent the tellings foretold. Are these predictions coming true a gift or a curse? Disbelievers and rival madams combine here for a mystical meets real world darkness. At least nagging wife Alice Ghostley (Bewitched) knows the way to her husband's heart is his favorite stew in "Anniversary Dinner." It's the empty nesters' twenty-fifth, and they take in a young hiker, offering her a celebratory sherry in their hidden room with a hot tub and some taxidermy. Sure, this one is obvious, but Tales from the Darkside serves up a twisted good time nonetheless when a drunken teacher tells off the headmaster because he's going to win the lottery in “Snip, Snip” thanks to the perfect number – 666. Unfortunately, 667 rewards hairdresser Carol Kane (Taxi), and a talkative parakeet named Lucifer interrupts an attempt to steal her winning ticket. Appearances, however, are deceiving, and the tense but sardonic banter questions which spirits truly have the answers – astrology or distilled. Then again, a little horseshoe phone never looked so ominous as in one of my Tales from the Darkside favorites "Answer Me," where subletting Jean Marsh (Upstairs, Downstairs) hears the incessant ringing of her neighbor's telephone. The apartment's been empty since the last tenant died, and the casual, effortless talking to oneself turns into frantic chatter as the noise next door won't stop. Increasingly dark rooms, scary shadows, and twisted telephone cords live up to the series name in this taut one woman play. For “Madness Room,” an older man, his younger wife, and their handsome lawyer uncover tales of murder and treasure maps via a Ouija board, and the sophisticated puzzle builds with a little drywall demolition, secret doors, a one hundred year old diary, and some ghostly gun play on the comeuppance. Likewise “If the Shoes Fit...” puts a political candidate in an eerie hotel on his latest campaign stop where his tactic is to gain votes by making people smile. The charm, of course, is all for show, and he admits the pomp and circumstance is all so the best actor can win. Ironically, this circus commentary on politics, clown suit and all, remains a surprisingly relevant farce.

Though seemingly hokey with carnival magicians and harmless tricks, “Levitation” has a few surprises up its sleeve with fatal magic and foolish teens wanting to know all the behind the scenes secrets. There's a sorrow amid the throwing knives, applause, and slight of hand – but our heckler gets what he wishes for when a little 'Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board' goes awry. The very expensive laundry service in “It All Comes Out in the Wash” guarantees the rinsing of a customer's sin and guilt, leaving pleased with themselves clientele free to divorce or order vendettas while waiting on the latest laundry delivery. Unfortunately, when the prices triple and the order is late, one's soul may be the final cost for services rendered. Quitting smoking has also never been tougher than in “Bigalow's Last Smoke.” This high tech cage has bars on the windows, a television watching you, and punishments for striking a match. The only way out of the full proof program is to stop smoking – making for another memorable and psychologically chilling Tales from the Darkside parable via the most common addiction concepts. “Grandma's Last Wish” also tackles the horrors of reality with ungratefulness, aging, and ageism. When this obnoxious family ignores Grandma, they learn what it's like to be old in this witty turnabout. The bus station at Christmas is filled with superstitious warnings, almost walking under a ladder, tea leaves, and horoscopes in “The False Prophet” season finale. A fortune telling machine predicts a gullible Ronee Blakley (A Nightmare on Elm Street) will meet the love of her life on this trip. However a newer, futuristic male voiced machine wants her to get touchy feely for his advice, warning her to beware of false prophets when a flashy minister arrives with all the platitudes. Which one should she believe? Eerie lighting, personality, and wolf in sheep's clothing subtext top off the unlucky deceptions.

Of course in this lengthy season of old Tales from the Darkside has a lot of hours to fill, and a few meh plots stray into the offbeat or weird rather than fitting the series' spooky theme. The eponymous boy and girl twins of "Mookie and Pookie" address newfangled computer ghost in the machine fears with Justine Bateman (Family Ties) and Tippi Hedron (The Birds) the same way The Twilight Zone addressed spaceflight paranoia. However, the giant old PC, radical programs putting the brother in the network, and a dad not down with the tech times are totally hokey today. Colleen Camp (Clue) and all-star Kareem Abdul-Jabbar also can't save Harlan Ellison's (Star Trek's “The City on the Edge of Forever”) “Djinn, No Chaser.” The straight jacket asides and to the screen therapy confessions compete with the flashback recounting a genie lamp, disembodied voices, and silly objects flying about the room. What could have been a cautionary wish fulfillment tale stalls with flat humor bordering on the ridiculous. “All a Clone by the Telephone” boasts agent Dick Miller (Night of the Creeps) and down on his luck writer Harry Anderson (Night Court), but the too cool for school little answering machine with a better life of its own takes itself too seriously to be avante garde bizarre. Likewise, perpetually emotional Jessica Harper (Suspiria) meets the mysterious Victor Garber (Legends of Tomorrow) who can capture her teardrops with his ancient Chinese wisdoms in “The Tear Collector.” The glass swan vessels, tear trophy rooms, and consequences for breaking the collection seem to build toward something, but all the ominous tears and broken glass just end up...happy? Boo, hiss! Fortunately, dark lighting, green hues, and shadow schemes do fit the eerie alongside nostalgic animatronics, old school prosthetics, and classic horror make up. Without a huge budget or today's film making technology, Tales from the Darkside does a lot with less – and the series didn't need anything beyond those smoke and mirrors, thunderstorms, and distorted voice effects creating its sinister mood. Sure, some obvious sets may be cramped or barren, but that lends to a stage-like parable and other episodes make the most of outdoor scenes. Several entries may have a period or old fashioned setting, but the slightly earlier seventies feeling makes it tough to tell what's past or present and no dates are given to break the warped reality. Then again, the boob tubes, rabbit ears, Walkmans, waterbeds, VCRs, and Ma Bell accent the prophetic talk of computers being the way of the future. Forget the diskettes, typewriters, retro kitchens, and dated patterns! I'll take some of those vintage hundred dollar bills though, and look at those eighties yuppies talking a stroll down memory lane with their 1965 yearbook!

While some of the Seasonal DVD releases have music rights issues and the Complete Series set is packaged somewhat plainly, there is a commentary from Romero included with “Trick or Treat,” and Tales from the Darkside is also currently available on Shudder. The series may not be super famous to younger horror fans, but mention Tales from the Darkside to us of a certain age and you hear tell of an opening theme that terrified youngins back in the day. Its pretty sunshine, happy trees, and rustic imagery turn black, white, and red – a negative image with sinister notes to match narrator Paul Sparer's warning of the dark underworld therein where we must doubt all we believe. Such bleak is immediately immersive compared to the dark comedy or more fantastic comic book tone of Creepshow and Tales from the Crypt. This debut is dated, often weird, usually unexplained, and not without hiccups. It hurts the series that audiences today have seen it all and may find the twists boring. However, Tales from the Darkside's First Season makes the most of its old school effects and vintage style for heaps of atmosphere and memorable harbingers.

Tales from the Crypt Season 2

Tales from the Crypt Season Two Full of More Fun Horrors

by Kristin Battestella

The 1990 Second Season of HBO's Tales from the Crypt is the series' longest year with eighteen summer episodes full of the anthology's particular brand of adult horror and warped humor. John Kassir's Crypt Keeper is irreverent as ever with his macabre quips, infectious giggle, and deadpan puns – luring the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger behind the helm before a brief appearance with CK himself. More famous directors this season include Tales from the Crypt producers Richard Donner and Walter Hill alongside recurring series directors Fred Dekker (Night of the Creeps), Howard Deutch (Some Kind of Wonderful), and Tom Holland (Child's Play). Once again, the series embraces its campy, colorful, twisted source material, with stories from classic magazines such as Shock SuspenStories, Vault of Horror, Crypt of Terror, Haunt of Fear, and of course, Tales from the Crypt.

The most beautiful but bitchy, money hungry waitress Demi Moore (Ghost) marries the gluttonous Jeffrey Tambor (Arrested Development) in the immediately memorable “Dead Right” premiere. In 1950, $20 for the fortune teller was sure cheap, but the promised death and foretold inheritance are enough to overcome the rude courtship, terrible remarks, and revolting appearances. There's strip club saucy and off color charm, too – not to mention a morbid montage imagining all the hit and runs or fatal choking possibilities. The fat suit designs and cruel quips are also offensive, with intimate relations meant to be gross and uncomfortable. Fortunately, this being Tales from the Crypt, we know there will be a justified if ironic twist. Likewise, Emmy nominated William Hickey (Prizzi's Honor) is desperate to marry the young Kelly Preston (Twins) despite her objection that he is old enough to be her grandfather in “The Switch.” A plastic surgery face swap with the handsome Rick Rossovich (Pacific Blue) comes with a million dollar price tag and mad science to match. Unfortunately, the pretty face with an old man body isn't very alluring, and the price goes up as the Frankenstein style body parts lead to all the winks we expect. “Cutting Cards,” however, gets right to the western casino chase with gamblers Lance Henriksen (Near Dark) and Kevin Tighe (Emergency!) betting against each other in a purgatory style duel of dice, cards, and roulette. Calculating which chamber holds the bullet escalates to higher and higher stakes – like chop poker where the loser loses a finger. Despite the intense editing and cheating suspicions, this is a fun little two-hander – if you forgive the pun. Gunshots and tacky photo shoot montages with sunset backdrops and kissing silhouettes accent the Mayan amulets and non-linear editing in “The Thing From the Grave,” poking fun at the romance between model Teri Hatcher (Desperate Housewives) and photographer Kyle Secor (Homicide: Life on the Street) as its disrupted by her trigger happy boyfriend Miguel Ferrer (Crossing Jordan) and a little undead vengeance, as you do. All this while The Crypt Keeper is reading Playdead!

In “For Cryin' Out Loud,” Iggy Pop's crooked music manager Lee Arenberg (Pirates of the Caribbean) hears his conscious in the form of comic Sam Kinison. Unfortunately, he ignores the voice for seductive groupie with ulterior motives Katey Sagal (Sons of Anarchy), and some gross ear salves set off the murder, laughs, and warped irony. Cinderella farmhand Patricia Arquette (Medium) has a backwoods employer checking out her tiny white tank top in “Four-Sided Triangle.” Good thing there's a sexy scarecrow to help her! The nasty mood comes across without showing much – after all, “you beat the help but don't kill 'em.” This one's certainly a unique tale, complete with threats of turning real flesh and blood men from bulls into steers and killer hoes for good measure. Bobcat Goldthwait (Oh my gosh, Hot to Trot, people) wants to be a ventriloquist like his idol Don Rickles in “The Ventriloquist's Dummy,” but you can see his lips move and the dummy's head falls off, whoopsie! The crappy amateur night and cruel crowd add camp, but just when you think you've see it all when it comes to ventriloquism in horror, Tales from the Crypt pulls out meat grinders and designs both laughable and bizarre. “Asshole casserole,” I've never heard that one before! Then again appearances are everything for eighties yuppie Carol Kane (Taxi) in “Judy, You're Not Yourself Today.” Faux accents, French, tea times, and a gun toting husband aren't enough until a cosmetics lady comes calling for our wrinkle worrying Mrs. Alas, our sales lady has an indestructible switcheroo necklace, making for some twisted violence and wit. Cruel mortician Moses Gunn (Roots) anchors “Fitting Punishment” alongside morose organ music, mistaken biblical quotes, and post mortem scams for one of the season's finest. Embalming with water is cheaper than the real chemicals, and the dead's gold teeth get pulled – God helps those who help themselves and waste not want not! Coffins made in Taiwan are inexpensive, too – but shorter. If there's a spare box lying around, why not use it? Of course, this being Tales from the Crypt, cutting such bloody corners will come back to get you.

Illustrator Harry Anderson (Night Court) continues the quality with “Korman's Kalamity” when his bossy wife's experimental potency pills inadvertently bring his creative side to life. The Tales from the Crypt logos on the office door and Vault of Horror volumes on the shelf create a bemusing faux behind the scenes life imitating art, and the ridiculously phony comic book monsters match the colorful over the top designs. Tales from the Crypt admits this is a really weird idea, and that's exactly why we're watching. Distorted camera angles and smoky shadows also bring the grim turn of the century freak show to life in “Lower Berth.” There's two-faced caged oddities, dying freaks, desperate managers, and charlatans bartering rare Egyptian slave girl mummies. The stolen sarcophagus and cursed jewels may seem straightforward, but castration consequences and undead romance provide the surprisingly wild topper we never knew we needed. By contrast, “Mute Witness to Murder” is an upfront thriller with no humor as Richard Thomas (The Waltons) and Patricia Clarkson (Six Feet Under) provide the titular shocks with straight jackets, padded cells, and I know that you know that I know deceptions. Blue camera visuals, audio check ins to be let out, and strapped down beds invoke a scary helplessness. Someone else is in control with needles and drugs – making for some true suspense, fourth wall voyeurism, and camera as confessor. “Television Terror,” however, pokes fun at its tale within a tale talk show desperate for Geraldo scandals as our host recounts gruesome murders while his film crew follows with a camera and spotlight. Creepy static, ghostly splices, and bloody bathtubs wink in the night, and the OMG what was that humor is bemusingly prophetic regarding today's paranormal reality television craze. Tales from the Crypt finishes Year Two strong with the memorable penultimate “My Brother's Keeper.” Siamese yet opposite twins have some laughable connections – but can their butt attachment be separated and is the fifty/fifty chance worth it? Great dual filming and mirrored, but not always matching images or paired actions lead to more awkwardness, and of course, a lady comes between them – pun intended – along with crimes, cleavers, and cruel twists.

The Crypt Keeper is upset that Oliver has no Twist for the season finale “The Secret,” but Dickensian puns accent this austere orphanage with misbehaving boys and what happened to his parents whispers. Eerie blue transitions and askew camerawork add to the childlike reluctance when rich but mysterious adoptive parents whisk a boy away to their museum-like home. Good thing there's a room full of awesome toys and when asking for milk, the butler gives him milkshakes! Who cares if there are bars on all the windows? When not off painting the town red, our parents only come out at night – but they have a surprise in the works. The titular answer is probably obvious, but the innocence and charm have fun here, adding personality and the kind of unexpected finish that only Tales from the Crypt can do. While there aren't many bad episodes, Tales from the Crypt has a slight sophomore lag mid season with the voodoo clichés of “Til Death.” Though not as bad other other Caribbean horror attempts – the gore and zombie elements are scary as well as humorous – the stereotypical story resorts to a scorned Janet Hubert (Fresh Prince of Bel-Air) getting back at nasty white men messing with the local magic. Weaker writing and less famous casting also hampers the winning Tales from the Crypt formula in “Three's a Crowd” when a husband suspects his wife is up to no good with their wealthy friend after he lavishes them with gifts and an anniversary trip. The opportunity for suspicion feels there only because that conclusion has to happen for the yuppie mayhem to ensue, and the domestic violence is totally unnecessary. When Tales from the Crypt viewing was limited to weekly HBO waits or random late night repeats, audiences didn't care about any repetitiveness. However, watching this longer than usual season all together reveals too many similarly themed love triangles, greed, for love or money twists, and seedy fillers. Kim Delaney (NYPD Blue) and Michael Ironside (V) deserve more than murder for money in “The Sacrifice,” for moody L.A. cityscapes and saucy rocking the boat affairs lead to dirty blackmail and long walks off the short balcony, naturally.

1990 is also still pretty eighties dated, making Tales from the Crypt both look cheaper than it was yet adding a neo-noir atmosphere to some of the downtrodden macabre. Several episodes are more eighties does forties or fifties rockabilly style to match the record players, old televisions, cool cars, and swanky tunes. Of course, there are also triangular blazers, shoulder pads, Blossom hats, and high-waisted jeans – fatalities of the then hip over-emphasizing fashions along with granny panties, large tassels, and lingerie that reveals nothing. Such barely there nudity, ten seconds of strippers in the background, and mostly clothed make-outs courtesy of the HBO premium cable saucy is totally tame compared to the all but naked singers today, however I must say, the cigarettes, onscreen smoke, and liquored up attitudes are now more noticeably risqué. Quality blood and gory squirts, spills, or stabs also remain well done alongside red spotlights, blue lighting, and strong shadow and light schemes regardless of the anthology's setting. Creepy organ music accents the askew camera angles and colorful, intentionally faithful comic book design mirroring the Tales from the Crypt magazine sources. The supporting cast per episode is likewise always quality with numerous or occasionally re-appearing familiar faces in critical or twisted cameos. Unfortunately, it seems there is a lot of legalese tying up any blu-ray release and streaming rights, and until the brand new Tales from the Crypt box set, the Complete Series was only available by packaging the DVD collections together. The “kill intro” opening theme makes it easier to marathon the Season Two three disc set without repeating the credits, and Pimp CK does some new bemusements amid the menus and featurettes. His ghastly little supplies come from “Hacme,” and if you don't get that pun then you are too young to be watching the show.

One can easily forget these ghoulish mini movies are only a half hour, for Tales from the Crypt moves fast but keeps your attention during and after a viewing thanks to the brand's personality and self-referential ability to laugh at the gory with well written scripts and sardonic winks. It feels like there are more episodes of Tales from the Crypt than there actually are because the series ages well with many memorable times in this extended season. A creepy atmosphere and famous guest stars set the viewer up for the scary topper, and Tales from the Crypt Season Two remains perfect for a gruesome late night marathon.

The Bounty Hunter

The Bounty Hunter Kind of Sort of, well, Sucks.

By Kristin Battestella

Against my better judgment, I finally sat down to watch the 2010 romantic comedy The Bounty Hunter one sickly afternoon. Honestly, I’m a bit embarrassed I watched this stinker in the daytime. Egats!

Cop turned bounty hunter Milo Boyd (Gerard Butler) must bring in his ex-wife Nicole (Jennifer Aniston) after a warrant is issued when she misses a court hearing.  Nicole follows a scoop on a murder/suicide story instead, but her source disappears, and she’s trying to find him whilst also trying to avoid Milo’s handcuffs or being locked in his car trunk en route to jail. Toss in bookies, casinos, love struck co-workers, and one zany golf cart, and romance may just blossom again for the former couple.

Onscreen quips, quirky freeze frames, and a chase on stilts begin The Bounty Hunter interestingly enough. However, director Andy Tennant (Ever After) loses this potential charm once the pace slows and we meet our converging exes at their less than fulfilling jobs. One must build the situation, naturally, but this delay on the chase at hand should have been swift, edgy, and unique rather than formulaic. Almost immediately, The Bounty Hunter also suffers from its PG-13 rating. Writer Sarah Thorp (See Jane Run) could have filled a special audience void by keeping this an eclectic little comedy – not an over saturated gross out college romp, but not full on predictable romantic tripe, either. Add some sexy, do some foul creativity – don’t hold back the gags for a demographic you can’t possibly attract – just make something bemusing for the adult audiences who might actually relate to a comedy about divorced folks hating their lives. I mean, really, what teenagers are going to go see a romantic comedy with Jennifer Aniston and Gerard Butler? Trapped by these fail safe rom com parameters, The Bounty Hunter further falls with poor editing and a pursuit that feels like it never really happens. Is this tale about uncovering the initial crimes or a wild uncomfortable road trip for leads? No one seems to decide. The uneven, nonessential camera shots and random photography are not hip or edgy – the camera should never leave the leads if this is supposed to be about them on the lamb. Instead, the all over the place storyline goes from sentimental to heavy on a murder/suicide and somehow lone sharks get involved, too. There’s some adult innuendo, but with no clear tone or direction, The Bounty Hunter simply tries every cliché. They hate each other, they drive each other crazy, they get jealous, they check up on each other – yeah, it gets old fast. She runs from him five times and yet they just stop off for a fun bet at the casino? The locations and chain of events make no sense, and The Bounty Hunter should have been much, much shorter with one simple, linear plot. Ironically, I’m not sure one can call this a rom com either, as it is neither romantic nor that funny. The leads and a camera on a car should have been enough to make this picture. I can’t believe this cost upwards of $40 million dollars!

Gerry, Gerry. Gerry, Gerry, Gerry! I really sort of stopped following Gerard Butler ahead of all the magazine covers and jet setting PR for The Bounty Hunter. It was obviously a comparable attempt with you know who – cough Mr. and Mrs. Smith cough – and it seemed just a bit too absurd when reminded of his off screen dedication for 300.  I saw all the tabloids and read the real life romance rumors and thought, “Well he’s made it, and now it’s all downhill.”  Sadly, the last few years have indeed been rocky for Butler. Whether he was willingly into the scene or led astray by the rumor mill, Hollywood has chewed him up and spit him out – as evident by this very film. Now when Butler does make something of note, nobody sees it thanks to his rightly or wrongly garnered notoriety. Is he that bad of an actor? No. Does he have onscreen presence and charisma? Definitely. Even here, despite the bad script and forced hyperbole, his Milo is charming in the straight humorous antics, tracking mud on the carpet and eating Doritos on a white bedspread. I kind of like Butler more brawny than super skinny, and he looks great in The Bounty Hunter – with enough scruff, action casual style, and some wet and obligatory towel scenes. However, I’m not sure about his American accent here. It’s not super bad, but there’s really no reason for him to not let his Scottish brogue run free. Unfortunately, despite Gerry eye candy, I couldn’t wait for The Bounty Hunter to end. Not only did this film not do him any A-list favors, but ultimately, The Bounty Hunter may have sent his career into a nosedive – from which, Butler may have only recently recovered. I’m looking forward to seeing the acclaimed but too little noticed Coriolanus and Machine Gun Preacher, but Butler’s public return to glory (hehe, “Spartans! Prepare for glory!”) depends on the box office success of his new flick Olympus Has Fallen. Although I must say, I did really, really like that one!

In addition to The Bounty Hunter’s unbelievable, all over the place pretentiousness, it’s tough to see Jennifer Aniston as a serious career woman and investigative reporter facing down criminal charges for a story. Is Nicole full of quirky comedy charm ala Aniston in Office Space or a badass confident woman on the case? A character can be both indeed, but either the script, the offbeat presentation, or Aniston doesn’t hold up. Do reporters really do this these days? It’s only been a few years, yet Nicole’s entire character crutch seems flat and out of date – not to mention she’s a bad reporter and a poor liar who can’t seem to get the scoop.  Despite nice legs and running perfectly in high heels, Aniston doesn’t look good with this messy hair in her face. Her voice and delivery also feel off, forced into being hip or casual perhaps. As a pair, Nicole and Milo seem awkward as well; one can’t really believe these two people were ever married. He’s supposedly the lovable oaf while she’s the put together not so put together bitch. It should be rom com gold, but it’s as if The Bounty Hunter’s leads are in two different films. Their arguments are embarrassing, not box office hotness, and things gets worse when the not so coupled couple ‘work’ together. A honeymoon revisit, seriously? Now having seen The Bounty Hunter, I can’t believe anyone thought that Jennifer Aniston and Gerard Butler’s supposed off screen romance was anything more than spin. Their chemistry here is individual, for their fans only. How did this make so much money?

Likewise, the supporting cast is all over the place in The Bounty Hunter. Christine Baranski (Cybil, Chicago), as always, is awesome as Nicole’s mother. However, she feels too young and cool herself despite being the right age for this maternal role. Her Kitty has fun in her brief scenes with Butler, but Baranski is unfortunately gone from the picture too soon. Why have a hair brained mother at all if you aren’t going to do anything with her? Jason Sudeikis (Horrible Bosses) further miffs me as Nicole’s absolutely annoying co-worker Stewart. He follows her into the bathroom in the first five minutes – talk about falling flat and being too creepy to enjoy! I’m glad he also disappears from The Bounty Hunter. Fortunately, Siobhan Fallon (Men in Black) is cute as the frumpy bondsman secretary Theresa. She trades gum with Milo and serves up some much needed sassy! I really wish The Bounty Hunter had focused on pure comedy from this elder bunch rather than trying to compete with these sexy, twenty something, nu rom com frat things.  Did I mention Carol Kane is here, too? The entire cast feels left behind in favor of cliché pursuits and anonymous action.

Yes, even stereotypical action tripes come to play here, and The Bounty Hunter overuses one too many driving jokes. A rickshaw chase full of sight seeing, wild potential ends up totally lame, but the subsequent shoot out and car chase seems completely out of place when it’s played for the action intensity. All that’s followed by a golf cart gag, too. Truly, the best part of The Bounty Hunter is when Nicole is handcuffed to the car door, so she takes it off and with her while making an endearing Kojak reference. The musical cues, however, stink, and the desperate pop soundtrack overtakes the dialogue far too much. One can’t even enjoy the Atlantic City locales, either, as we don’t actually see them very much. The New Jersey jokes are bad, too – and I’m not just saying that because I’m from South Jersey and quite familiar with AC. I mean, Milo pumps his own gas! Could they not fact check these sorts of things? Was The Bounty Hunter meant to be a gambling or casino picture as well? It might have been better that way, if The Hangover–ish. I would liked to have seen a gritty action drama bookie heist with a handcuffed ex wife, too – or Milo as a fallen cop and the breakdown of their marriage in either humor or corruption. Why couldn’t they both have been sexy bounty hunters begrudgingly on the case together? Oh wait, that would have really been too Mr. and Mrs. Smith, wouldn’t it?

I feel quite mean in my assessment of The Bounty Hunter, but it is just so damn indicative of everything that’s wrong with Hollywood – miscast stars selling out onscreen and off, formulaic scripts and film making, massive marketing campaigns ad nauseum, ridiculous amounts of money coming and going when a movie is complete crap, rinse, wash, repeat. The funniest parts of The Bounty Hunter really are all in the trailer, and fans of the cast are better served with individual clips – if one can take any guilty pleasure merits here. Dammit, bad films like this might even anger fans. How does Gerry make such cool stuff like 300 and now Olympus Has Fallen with drivel like this in between? It boggles the mind if you think too much, and The Bounty Hunter is definitely two hours I’d like back for my peace of mind.