OK, you were pretty good about that last one. So here’s something a bit more substantial:
See the Dead (US-2008; short [15 min.]; dir. Robert W. Filion)
Synopsis:
Sarah awakens to a dead world. As she struggles with her emotional traumas, she must survive the advance of nightmarish ghouls.
Yes, it’s a zombie movie — and a rather classy one at that.
Source: dreadcentral via Avery
In a hurry this weekend? Well, here’s a very short film touching on a theme from a few posts ago. No, I’m not going to tell you the post, the name of the flick or what it’s about, because that would give it away — and frankly there’s no plot to speak of so you need the surprise. I will say that the film was directed and acted by Eric Spudic.
Wait! The title card gives it away first thing. Oh, well!
See? I told you so.
Source: via Avery
As classic anime series in the mecha-mold go, Neon Genesis Evangelion [aka Shin seiki evangerion] (Japan-1995-1996; TV series, animation) is among the elite of the species. It is spectacular, complex, confusing, emotional, fascinating, beautiful, and flawed, especially toward the end where creator Hideaki Anno and his team ran out of money and had to resort to a minimalist form of animation and abstract narrative techniques in order to complete the story. This somewhat foggy, though arguably profound and interestingly different, climax never diminished the series’ status — and in some quarters even enhanced it.
Though some don’t “get” the appeal of the series, many derive and continue to derive endless pleasure from its vastly pretentious metaphysical depiction of a humanity struggling to survive in, and gain evolutionary fulfilment from, the chaos of its own destruction. The manga subsequently produced by Yoshiyuki Sadamoto is a worthy re-forging of the story; more coherent and less metaphysical, its narrative diverges from that of the series after a certain point, while capturing the spirit of Anno’s creation.
In 1997, after the reputation (and fanbase) of Neon Genesis Evangelion soared with its success in the West, Anno and animator Masayuki produced Evangelion: Death & Rebirth [aka Shin seiki Evangelion Gekijô-ban: Shito shinsei] (Japan-1997), which first retold the TV series in a condensed form and then took a stab at giving the previous ending a less-obscure, more externalised re-work. Where the final episodes of the TV series put the viewer completely inside the tormented mind of its main character — Shinji Ikari, a young pilot of one of the EVAs who is desperate to gain approval from a cold and seemingly indifferent father — and thus gave it what seemed like an abstract, left-field incompleteness, the “new” ending shows us what was going on from an external POV while the subjective events of the TV series played out. It did not eschew the metaphysical nature of the series, but it provided the mecha action that fans had wanted.
“Rebirth” ends abruptly, however, and the Gauntlet of Narrative Clarity is then thrown down in the form of Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Evangelion [aka Shin seiki Evangelion Gekijô-ban: Air/Magokoro wo, kimi ni] (Japan-1997; animation; dir. Hideaki Anno and Kazuya Tsurumaki). In this OVA “movie” the end of the series is finally re-told in spectacular, and quite satisfying, fashion.
But Anno wasn’t finished. He decided to do a re-boot of the whole story, using newer animation techniques and drawing on a decade’s reflection on the show’s perceived “shortcomings”. Four feature-length films are planned. The first of these was released in Japan in 2007, made it to the cinema in the West in 2008 and is now about to appear on DVD.
Evangelion 1.0 You Are (Not) Alone [aka Evangerion shin gekijôban: Jo] (Japan-2007; animation; dir. Masayuki, Kazuya Tsurumaki, Hideaki Anno [supervising])
Synopsis:
After the second impact, all that remains of Japan is Tokyo-3, a city that’s being attacked by giant creatures called Angels that seek to eradicate the human kind. After not seeing his father for more than eight years, Shinji Ikari receives a phone call, in which he is told to urgently come to the NERV Headquarters. NERV is an organization that deals with the destruction of the Angels through the use of giant mechs called Evas. Shinji’s task is to pilot the Eva Unit 01, while teaming up with the Eva Unit 00 pilot, Ayanami Rei, in a struggle against the Angels that could destroy them all.
Apparently this first film represents a spectacular re-visioning of the first 6 or so episodes of the TV series, with updated animation that respects the “look” of the original while taking advantage of current advances.
English Version Trailer:
Neon Genesis Evangelion has fascinated me since I first saw it. In part that fascination is a product of my interest in daikaiju eiga (Japanese giant monster films), for the TV series (and subsequent films), though situated most comfortably in the “mecha” subgenre, rings changes by sliding between the two types of fantasy. To quote myself (from my extensive article on the history and development of Japanese giant monster films, “Man and Super-Monster: A History of Daikaiju Eiga and its Metaphorical Undercurrents”):
One “mecha” series that more directly aligns with daikaiju eiga is the well-known Neon Genesis Evangelion. The series is based on a mecha format, featuring giant humanoid machines (EVAs) that can only be piloted by adolescents – or more precisely, those born in the aftermath of an apocalyptic incident that occurred 15 years earlier. The series rings changes that take it much beyond ordinary mecha tropes. With its surreal, metaphysical “Angels”, its city-based battles, its sinister conspiracies, secret genetic experiments and apocalyptic escalation – not to mention the semi-sentient, fleshy nature of the EVAs – Neon Genesis Evangelion presents a complex kaiju scenario that on one level examines generational relationships and on another explores concepts of physical and spiritual evolution. What is really going on in this series rarely happens on a surface level; the symbolic interplay of imagery serves to externalise emotions and implications, with the result that the overall effect is that of an all-encompassing metaphorical construct – an extended metaphor.
The full title of this Modern Mechanics article from December 1930 read “Will Monster Insects Rule the World?” Though offered here as a mere speculative possibility, the idea that giant insects will eventually dominate life on Earth is one that may represent a valid scenario, according to cryptozoological historian Doug Ormsham.
During the course of an on-again, off-again project to catalog and hence validate the vast personal writings of his monster-hunting great-grandfather Hugo Drakenswode, Ormsham has remained in patchy correspondence with Undead Backbrain author Robert Hood — and has remarked on the frequency with which giant insects appear in his great-grandfather’s journals. When questioned on the subject, Ormsham wrote:
My great-grandfather was certainly of the opinion that as ordinary insects hold, by virtue of sheer numbers, a vast dominance over all other species on Earth — representing something like 90% of all life-forms — the frequency of the appearance of monstrous insects in the past suggests that mega-insecta are likely to become an increasing problem for human survival in the future.
He added:
Even a superficial study of the sources suggests that human society has suffered under giant insect attacks of varying scale for a long time.
The Blakean Effect
Ormsham is currently developing a theory he calls “The Blakean Effect” (named after English mystic poet William Blake, who believed that the separation between objective and subjective reality was a metaphysical misunderstanding of the nature of reality). Ormsham’s theory is based upon ongoing research in regards to the synchronicities that exist between Drakenswode’s historical investigations into reported mega-fauna incidents and fictional cinematic depictions of giant monster attacks. In brief, Ormsham suspects that whether by conspiratorial intent or through some kind of unknown influence exerted over the imaginations of writers and filmmakers, actual historical attacks by mega-fauna are frequently translated to both print and screen — not accurately perhaps, but with various degrees of metaphysical relevance. If his theory is correct, Ormsham suggests, we are in big trouble.
Entomological historian Gustav Kraphot agrees. “They’re out there,” he wrote in 2005 in his little-known volume Notes on an Insect Apocalypse (Antennae Press).
They’re out there and they’re waiting to make their move en masse. There have been many hints, many incursions by rogue elements and by coordinated single-species armies — all of them testing the limits of human capability. As a race mankind is somehow compelled to forget these incursions, though memory of them lingers on in our fiction. “But the time will come when the Queen of Insectoid Queens will gather her troops for an all-out infestation of the planet and when she does there will be no hope for mankind. (pages 232 and 241)
Madness and absurd paranoid delusion? Perhaps. Kraphot points to rumours of sightings of huge insects that crop up from time-to-time, such as a “well-documented” report of giant mantises on a certain South Pacific island in the late 1960s. He claims there is evidence, too, of “events” from as recently as the year 2000, when an attack was said to have been made on monster-ridden Tokyo by a gargantuan prehistoric insect. In this instance, there was a “massive cover-up”, but locals willing to speak out claim that only the intervention of a reptilian deity saved the city from total destruction!
Tokyo has many times suffered visitations from a giant moth god, it is said — the first of these being in 1961. This creature is believed to be relatively benign, though massive destruction ensued because, according to Kraphot, humans persistantly failed (and still fail) to heed the warnings that presage its coming.
Cinematic Versions
Do the above examples sound familiar? They should. These events, which Kraphot claims he can document, describe the scenarios of several Toho daikaiju eiga featuring the iconic monster Godzilla (Gojira) and his rival Mothra. While Ormsham is unwilling to accept the literal extremes of Kraphot’s approach to the subject, he sees how it relates to his own view. He said:
I’ve never met the man, so I can’t comment on the accuracy of his research. Certainly my great-grandfather’s near-century of reports and memoranda represents a unique resource in the field and very little of that has been released as yet. Dr Kraphot could not have seen it. Though his approach somewhat lacking in well-considered detail, he is clearly on the right track.
If we grant any sort of validity to the cautious theories of Ormsham or the full-on paranoid panic-mongering of Kraphot, there is ample scope for alarm. Cinematic history alone tells a grim tale. 
There are isolated instances of single sightings from the earliest days of cinema. Perhaps the first full-scale infestation as “recounted” on film, however, would have to be from Them! (1954), when giant ants arise from the irradiated deserts of New Mexico and end up causing trouble Los Angeles, having spawned a colony in the sewers of LA. Though dealt with, giant ants are still making an appearance as recently as 2003, according to the low-profile GiAnts.
Then there was a reign of insectoid terror undertaken by a single gargantuan preying mantis in The Deadly Mantis (1957) and by a swarm of giant grasshoppers in The Beginning of the End (also 1957). Coincidence? 1957 saw even more mega-insect terror with a giant scorpion (and large-scale, only-slightly-smaller comrades) running riot, as well as a deadly swarm of giant wasps. Mantises also feature in Meet the Applegates (1991) — the humorous approach of which makes the threat of alien infiltration all the more sinister, while the mega-scorpion terror returned in 2001 and again as late as 2008 with an amphibian mega-stinger that targeted a major city.
Then there was the rise of the Empire of the Ants in 1977, oversized mutant bugs causing trouble in a hospital in Canada in 1987, a plague of giant ticks in 1993, a bloodsucking giant mosquito horde in 1995, and a variety of monstrous Japanese bugs in 1997. In the same year, another film, Bugged, featured a host of different oversized bugs, this time in the US, perhaps representing some sort of worldwide conspiracy — a conspiracy that continued in 2005.
Mutant Conspiracy!
Mutant cockroaches crop up quite often, too, in 1988, 1997, 2001 (twice) and 2003. Every now and then a lone insect causes trouble by becoming hybridised with human DNA. The Fly (1986), The Fly II (1989), The Wasp Woman (1960 and 1995) and Mansquito (2005) seem to substantiate Kraphot’s claim that “the mega-insect overlords are more than willing to resort to genetic manipulation in order to further their Queen’s plans for conquest”.
Ormsham notes that the above mentioned films only represented the most obvious evidence of mega-insectoid activity. There are many more films that he could name — and beyond celluloid fiction, literary fiction offers tales that go back much further.
It is also worth mentioning [he added] that though they represent a different biological genus, spiders get lumped in with our six-legged enemies by the general public and there’s been an abundance of mega-activity on that front.
The Latest Giant Insect Attack!
Now comes intelligence that the conspiracy continues in a big way in the present. A new film, Infestation (US-2009; dir. Kyle Rankin), presents the worrying possibility of invasion by a horde of hideous mutant monstrosities with the ability to absorb and hybridise their human victims. Check out the pictorial evidence below:
We can only hope that this one is fiction…
List of Films (in order of reference):
Addendum: These images from a French ad campaign against unprotected sex and AIDS represent a very worrying possibility indeed, in the light of Ormsham and Kraphot’s mega-insect theories.
If you thought The Machine Girl was out there and Tokyo Gore Police was bizarre, have a look at the following trailer for RoboGeisha! It’s sheer, mind-blowing Japanese weirdness! Gotta love it!
It is directed by Noboru Iguchi (of Machine Girl fame) while the SFX maniac behind the Gore Police and its “engineers” is in charge of creating all the robots and cyborgs of this one. From the trailer the producer and director collected every bizarre robo variant of traditional Japanese cultural icons they could think of and stuck them in the film.
Addendum: If you haven’t seen the trailer for The Machine Girl, I’ve put it up on Undead Brainspasm.
This is an addendum to the main interview, which can be read here.
Alternative (and current) DVD Artwork for Monster Island:
Promo Reel:
Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus Trailer (in case you’re the last person on Earth who hasn’t seen it):
Director Profile:
Documentary by Jack Perez: Cat House on the Kings (yes, the man is not only a giant monster enthusiast and a noir filmmaker, but actively promotes cat welfare as well!)
Part One of an Interview with Jack PerezSpectacular internet interest spawned by the Asylum’s latest release, Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus, came as something of a surprise to everyone. Directed by Jack Perez under the pseudonym Ace Hannah, the giant monster B-flick epic was keenly anticipated by many, based on a few spectacular shots of the titular beasts — in particular one of a gigantic shark taking a bite out of the Golden Gate Bridge. The first trailer increased the excitement. Others greeted the whole thing with scorn, of course — but either way, the prospect of seeing two vast prehistoric giants duking it out with each other and the human protagonists generated unprecedented net chatter. Perez talks to the Backbrain about the film, its reception and his own ambitions.
Undead Backbrain: Jack, how did this project come about?
Jack Perez: It was weird. The producers had a title. And that’s it. I actually thought they were kidding at first. I mean, it’s a pretty on-the-nose title. But they were serious. They wanted to know if I could crank out a screenplay based on the titular battle. And as I’d seen every Godzilla and jumbo atomic mutation flick ever made, I was game-on. Plus I needed the work.
UB: Yet I reckon the title is what generated a lot of the pre-release interest in the film. Of course, it had to live up to that title — and the trailer suggested that you had, in a very big way, nailed it. Do you feel you did?
JP: Obviously the trailer promised something very grand, as most trailers do. It was put together by the film’s editor; and he did a terrific job. Still, there was no way the actual movie could live up to it. I mean, we were making the picture in the unenviable world of ultra-low-budget, the Ed Wood universe. Perhaps if I had had a little more money and a little more time — plus some greater control over the cutting — I could’ve come closer to delivering on the promise of the trailer. Apologies to anyone who felt completely let down.
UB: You might be being a little hard on yourself, Jack. I enjoyed the film, recognising the limitations imposed by budget and time constraints — and many feel it is one of The Asylum’s best. At the very least it was entertaining. Sure, many fans wanted more — of the monsters in particular. Yet even big budget SFX films that offer more than enough end up being soundly criticised — early reviews of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen are castigating it for being too extravagant with its giant robots! Perhaps you could expand on the notion of ultra-low budget limitations and what that forces on you? Recognising the limitations, what do you do to get as close as possible to the result you want?
JP: Thank you. I’m glad it entertains. The problem with working in the ultra-low-budget world particularly when it comes to a big FX-driven picture like this is … well, NO MONEY FOR FX! I mean, there’s some — but a verrrry small pot. It boils down to each FX shot having a dollar value assigned to it, so you wind up getting a couple dozen shots for the whole picture when something like 100 would be ideal. You try to spread it around and generate as much monster action as you can, but you always come up short. That’s why there’s so much re-use of the same shots over and over again. If you’re clever, you re-size those shots, “flop” em, or slow em down — anything to try to make more of what you’ve got. In some instances — and this is the fun stuff — you employ old-school special effects that are cheaper to produce than CGI. Like miniatures and forced perspective. I did this for the scene where the marine biologists discover the half-eaten whale on the beach. Normally it’d be a CGI comp shot, but we did it all “in-camera”, with a five-foot foam-rubber whale on a card table covered with sand. Then we sent the actors a block down the beach, lined up the two elements through the lens and got the shot. Many of my CGI-reared young crew members had never even seen an in-camera effect before, so for a second there I was like Houdini or something. It was actually one of my happiest moments on the show, because it reminded me of making Super-8 monster movies when I was a kid.
UB: What about other aspects of the production — casting, the editing process, sound? What problems did you have in these areas and how did you deal with them?
JP: Ordinarily a director has a lot to say about casting. In this world, no. The producers told me they’d cast Deborah and Lorenzo, so I rolled with it. I knew immediately that their personalities — individually and combined — would create a certain camp-response in the viewer, which was perfect as the title had set that tone from the outset. Both actors were old pros and knew what the picture was, so they embraced it and played their parts totally straight — which is what ultimately works best for camp. The second you start wink-winking and joking it becomes something else. Something less fun in my opinion.
The challenge of a 12-day shoot was remedied by minimizing the set-ups. Normally, when you have a lot of cast members and extras in a room — like the war room or submarine — you spend tons of time getting “singles” (individual shots) of everyone. The idea being that it gives you control in the cutting, can heighten suspense, etc. Actually, I hate “coverage”; to me it’s boring visually. And since I didn’t have the time to run around getting all those singles anyway, I created a lot of deep focus compositions where everyone fit nicely into one frame. As long as the actors knew their lines (and they mostly did) you could control the pace and run a whole scene without cutting. Unfortunately, I went into pre-production on another film while this film was being edited and as a consequence a number of choices were made that I think hurt the overall pacing. I mean, I wanted the thing to fly, and in earlier cuts it really moved fast. On the other hand, I think given their own limitations the music composer and sound effects techs did an incredible job. Their work sounds big and bold and enhances the picture tremendously.
UB: One question that is always of interest to me relates to a statement of yours earlier — that you’d seen every “jumbo atomic mutation flick ever made”. As you’ve no doubt realised, I’m a tad obsessed by the Really Big Monster subgenre and find myself (when commenting on it) veering from pretentious analysis of the underlying metaphors to reveling in the sheer awesomely destructive fun of an impossible behemoth on a rampage. What’s been the appeal of these films for you? Which ones are your favourites?
JP: I can’t tell you how much it genuinely pleases me to converse with a Really Big Monster scholar such as yourself. For me the genre is totally deserving of in-depth analysis. I guess the appeal begins with the fact that the first movies I ever saw were of the giant monster variety – The ’33 King Kong, Destroy All Monsters, Beginning of the End, Tarantula, Reptilicus, The Giant Claw, Them! — all Saturday afternoon matinees on television. The imagery was so powerful, so fantastic; the destruction so literally earth-shattering. The stuff resonated beyond all measure, cutting a giant monster love-groove right into my brain. Maybe if I had been exposed to Bergman or Antonioni when I was seven years old, I wouldn’t be such a geek. I mean, I love both those guys now, but there’s a special place in my heart reserved for Gordon Douglas and Bert I. Gordon, Willis O’Brien and Eiji Tsuburaya. And I still enjoy watching all those films as an adult. They’re operatic, truly sensational movies. Again, maybe that’s why it was so easy helming Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus. If I had to pick a couple favorites, which is hard, I’d have to say the original Kong and Them! Mainly because both possess such strong atmosphere and real emotion. Then again, I also love The Amazing Colossal Man, which is pretty kooky.
UB: Yeah, the two Colossal Man films are a lot of fun — and my favourite from Mr BIG’s dodgy oeuvre. I have no trouble loving, and finding meaning in, King Kong and The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, and Them! — and especially the whole daikaiju eiga genre of Japan (particularly as good, untampered-with versions with subtitles are available on DVD these days) — while simultaneously appreciating and more sporadically loving Bergman and Antonioni (and Kurosawa, Hitchcock, Kubrick etc.). I have to admit, though, that if I were going to be stuck on a desert island and could only take a limited number of films, a slew of those giant monster flicks would be on the top of the list and other more mainstream “greats” might have to elbow themselves onto the solar-powered Compact DVD Viewer as best they could.
So, Jack, tell us something of your pre-Mega Shark filmic background?
JP: My first feature was America’s Deadliest Home Video starring Danny Bonaduce and Melora Walters, which has taken on a kind of cult status, since it was the first thriller to employ the “entirely through the lens” documentary design later popularized by Man Bites Dog, The Blair Witch Project and Cloverfield. But I’ve been really lucky to make a number of films in a variety of genres — some highly personal, others just for the experience. A revisionist private eye movie called The Big Empty (1997) and my south-of-the-border noir, La Cucaracha (1998), starring Eric Roberts and Joaquim de Almeida, are probably my most personal independent features. But I also directed the pilot for Xena: Warrior Princess for Renaissance Pictures, Wild Things 2 for Sony, and actually managed to get my valentine to stop-motion-animated monster flicks — and atomic mutation movies in general — Monster Island (starring Adam West and Carmen Electra) made over at MTV. I wish more people had seen the latter; the MTV audience was too young to appreciate nods to The Deadly Mantis, The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms and Dinosaurus!
UB: I notice that Monster Island is available on DVD (released in 2005). I just ordered a copy from Amazon. I look forward to checking it out. You say that The Big Empty and La Cucaracha are your most personal independent features. Both noir, I assume. Is that a genre you’d like to explore further?
JP: Thanks for checking out MI — I know you’ll get all the references; hope you enjoy it. Re: Noir — yes, it’s a genre I have great passion for and return to more than any other. Maybe it’s because I’m a moody person, but I’ve always been attracted to dark stories and haunted characters – vulnerable misfits trying to navigate a harsh world. The Big Empty (not to be confused with the Jon Favreau pic done a few years later) is my best expression of the genre to date. And I never grow tired of the stark atmosphere of noir, the brutality and the black humor. La Cucaracha was described by one reviewer as “Like a Noir by Sergio Leone”, which I love.
UB: Giant monsters and noirish detectives, eh? Ever considered joining the two into a noir giant monster epic? I guess the original Gojira had a noirish feel. Not surprising as director Ishiro Honda worked on some of his buddy Akira Kurosawa’s noir films, in particular one of my favourites — Stray Dog (1949) (as the Great Man’s chief assistant director). Several of his own non-giant monster scifi films display a definite noir influence — The Human Vapor and The H-Man especially. Maybe you could introduce a noir detective into the sequel to Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus. Speaking of which, what are the chances of a sequel?
JP: Cool idea. You’re absolutely right about Honda invoking his great mentor in H-Man and The Human Vapor. And yeah, Gojira is totally noir — super stark. It’s actually a natural choice considering the evolution of the genre — taking the deep shadows and extreme moods of 30s Universal Horror pictures (Frankenstein, Dracula, etc) and carrying ’em over into the giant mutation flicks of the 50s. Again, that’s why Them! strikes a particular chord with me. Also The Deadly Mantis and The Black Scorpion. All black-and-white and extremely atmospheric. I mean, that silhouetted night-train attack sequence in Scorpion is absolutely horrifying because of its noir design. Also, I recently showed Gorgo to my wife and was amazed by the atmospheric photography by Freddie Young (who shot Lawrence of Arabia!). Though color, the mood is overwhelming. And Gorgo comes off all the more real and threatening as a result.
In general, I love the collision of genre — it’s invigorating. You become like a mad scientist, mixing things together that don’t ordinarily go. Sometimes it blows up in your face, but sometimes you make something totally new and baddass. Inserting a P.I. into a horror scenario’s a cool one — it worked with Mickey Rourke in Angel Heart. Why not with a big sucker?
Re: a Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus sequel — it’s being considered. But I’d only wanna do it if I have a bit more control and can really deliver the goods, monster-wise.
UB: Earlier you mentioned that you went into pre-production for another film at the end of Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus‘ post-production. Can you tell us about that? What’s coming up for you? Do you have any projects you’d particularly like to undertake in the foreseeable future — or even beyond that?
JP: The picture I’m beginning is called Shotgun Wedding. Guess what? It’s a Noir! A pro-gay-marriage, lesbian shoot-em-up Noir. Stylistically, it’s pretty extreme — think Blue Velvet erupting into a John Woo movie. Hopefully I can get it completely off the ground soon. Beyond that, I have a number of projects in the hopper ranging from a character-driven comedy to a western to a post-apocalyptic animated series. I’d also love to do a World War 2 horror pic, along the lines of the old Weird War comics. I’m working now with filmmakers Josh Becker and Gary Jones putting together a company to make low budget sci-fi and horror stuff along the lines of Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus, but with greater creative freedom and hopefully a little piece of the back end.
UB: That all sounds really exciting, Jack. Lots of fascinating ideas. “Blue Velvet erupting into a John Woo movie”! A post-apocalyptic animated series! A Weird War horror pic! It’s all the sort of stuff I like. And the prospect of another company dedicated to producing giant monster (and other) genre flicks … that fills the heart with hope! Good luck with all those — and I trust you’ll keep us informed as these projects progress. Meanwhile, thank you so much for spending the time to talk to me — it’s been great.
JP: The pleasure’s all mine, Rob — I had a blast. And I’ll certainly keep you posted on everything coming up. Meantime, I’ll continue devouring your awesome site. Take care!
Check out Part Two of Straight From the Mega Shark’s Mouth: An Interview with Jack Perez for a Director’s Reel, a video profile and other goodies.
You might want to put your breakfast aside for a moment to check out these pictures of the central creature from John Lechago’s coming-soon ooze-drenched horror flick, Bio-Slime, which we last had a look at in February.
No more news, but lots of cool exclusive pictures. Click to see the glorious gooey detail.
This is looking like one quite unique monster.
In Monster from Bikini Beach (US-2008; dir. Darin Wood), independent producer Christy Savage and director Wood worked assorted monster-loose-among-bikini-babes tropes to create a retro 1960s exploitation flick that was colourful and lots of fun. Now Savage has revealed that her sights have turned to outer-space vampire women and Barbarella-like space pirates in another retro ’60s project that goes into full production in September.
Synopsis:
Planet of the Vampire Women is an action-packed sci-fi adventure of the galaxy’s sexiest space pirates who pull off the ultimate heist only to crash into an unknown world. Finding themselves trapped on a storm-shrouded planet overrun with monsters, the intergalactic outlaws unknowingly awaken an unspeakable horror that causes the dead to walk…with an insatiable lust for blood!
Savage has given Undead Backbrain a preview of Things To Come via a slew of pre-production shots of the titular outer-space chicks-with-fangs-and-ray-guns.
More in the gallery below:
30,000 Leagues Under the Sea (US-2007; dir. Gabriel Bologna)
This 2007 offering from low-budget exploitation champions, The Asylum, is a take on Jules Verne’s classic novel. What it isn’t is any sort of retelling of the original, so there’s no point whingeing about it. The fact that it isn’t based on the novel on any detailed level is clearly signaled by the extra 10,000 leagues added to the title. This is also the epitome of its creative achievements.
Of course, Captain Nemo, his misanthropic obsessions and the deadly hi-tech submarine the Nautilus are all present and accounted for. Then there’s the sea — under which nowhere near 30,000 leagues are travelled. Oh, a giant squid turns up, too, though this one is a mechanised giant monster created by Nemo himself and it does antisocial things like attacking Navy vessels at his behest (see DVD cover). As I said, 30,000 Leagues Under the Sea is an exploitative “take” on 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, not an attempt to film the novel or to do it justice.
Which is just as well, because though I’m a tolerant sort of guy when it comes to the shortcomings of low-budget independent genre films, this one really doesn’t have too many redeeming features. Oh, there’s Lorenzo Lamas who endures the script with great fortitude and professional aplomb. Sean Lawlor’s interpretation of the madman Captain Nemo is actually rather effective, despite times when the verbal interaction with Lamas’ Lieutenant Aronnaux is so ineptly filmed that neither seem to be aware of the other’s presence at all — or at least aren’t following the flow of the conversation. The same applies to Natalie Stone’s contribution; she’s as convincing as Lieutenant Commander Rollins as attractive young actresses always are in these sorts of movies, whatever the size of the budget. But judging the real effectiveness of all of them is actually rather problematic, as the script — as it is realised onscreen anyway — undercuts any possibility of a decent performance at every turn.
It’s clear, in fact, that there was trouble on this production, big trouble — and though there are plenty of online rumours about the identity of the main culprit I have no reliable insider information and so will pass over the issue in relative silence. I’ll simply say that it appears as though various scenes were never filmed and making some sort of pseudo sense of it all was left up to the editor in post-production. However, he never really had a hope of achieving anything by way of true editorial consummation — his relationship with the film having all the depth and longevity of speed-dating. So dialogue scenes are clumsy and badly paced, exchanges don’t proceed logically, bits are missing, the action is remarkably static and the narrative shape of the film is a complete mess.
Add to that the fact that the dialogue sounds as though it was recorded from an extreme distance by a microphone someone snitched from their kid’s junior DJ karaoke set and I think you can fairly assume that this film didn’t work its magic for me, not on any level.
I guess I could be convinced to concede that the CGI subs, mecha-squid and hints of Atlantis were okay, relatively speaking, even though there appeared to be only a few moments of them in all, these moments re-used over and over — reversed, re-cut and randomly colour tinted.
But that’s it. This is a film that needed more … of everything (everything except what’s already in it, of course). In the state it’s in now the only good reason to release it at all had to have been to fulfil contractual obligations and avoid having to pay out any more money on a dud.
