Just a few Terminator: Salvation teasers in passing.
Below is the new poster (at rest) … but click here to see it as it was meant to be seen (in motion).
Doing the rounds is also a segment of America’s Entertainment Tonight last Tuesday that gives us a decent glimpse of the giant Harvester terminators that inhabit the alternative future in which the movie is set. Below are a couple of screenshots.
As Skynet prepares its final onslaught, Connor and fellow soldier Marcus both embark on an odyssey that takes them into the heart of Skynet’s operations, where they uncover the terrible secret behind the possible annihilation of mankind. (Quiet Earth)
No, it’s not a horror film, and nor does it hark from the 1950s. Attack of the Slime People (US-2008; dir. Martin King) is an independent comedy about a rather unstable independent filmmaker in the 50s, who gets a chance to produce his B-flick opus and grasps the opportunity with maniacal fanaticism.
Buddy Flavanoid is a washed up Hollywood director trying to make his big comeback and cement his place in history as one of the greats. He sets out to make a monster movie about slime people but ends up himself becoming a monster of sorts, murdering (with a baseball bat of all things) anyone who threatens to get in the way of his “uncompromising vision.” (Independent Film Reviews)
The film is reported to have excellent production values, to be very funny and to feature an excellent, if rather extreme, performance by Robert Tiffi as the loopy wannabe Ed Wood.
Another trailer for the vikings-vs-alien-monster movie, Outlander:
And, yes, they speak in English. Despite the whingers that have been appearing on my YouTube site scorning that fact, I’m rather grateful myself — as my grasp on Old Norse is a little tenuous. They could comfort themselves with the fact that Old Norse was one on the main influences on the development of Old English (which became modern English eventually) — except it’s irrelevant. Let’s say the dialogue has been conveniently translated for our benefit; as the characters all speak the same language, it might as well be Old Norse. Of course that the alien hunter also speaks Old Norse is more problematic — but maybe he’s like Doctor Who, who once remarked to Sarah-Jane Smith when she queried her ability to speak and understand Renaissance Italian: “It’s a Time-Lord thing” (or something like that).
The work of Shaun Tan — The Rabbits, The Arrival, The Lost Thing, The Red Tree and most recently the superb Tales from Outer Suburbia — are brilliant, good-natured yet edgy, quirky and luminous — a bit like Shaun himself.
Full of unique and emotionally truthful images, Shaun’s not-really-for-children children’s books present a world that is thoughtful and humanistic, despite its weirdness. If you spend some time listening to Shaun talking about his art, you quickly come to realise that you’re listening to a real live genius in his field — even though Shaun himself is never pretentious or self-aggrandising.
Now the exciting news comes that Shaun has been working on an animated version of The Lost Thing, which is due for release in 2009. It is produced by Passion Pictures Australia with financing from both Screen Australia and Passion Pictures. At 15 minutes long, The Lost Thing with be created using CGI but with 2D handpainted elements. Shaun will be acting in the capacity of director, designer and writer.
Shaun’s says about the book:
What started out as an amusing nonsensical story soon developed into a fable about all sorts of social concerns, with a rather ambiguous ending. I became quite interested in the idea of a creature or person who really did not come from anywhere, or have an existing relationship to anything, and was ‘just plain lost’. I wanted to tell the story from the point of view of a character that would represent how I might personally respond to this, so the unnamed narrator is essentially me (although I used to collect sea shells at the beach, rather than bottle-tops).
Here is a brief document on the making of the film in which you can see some teasing moments of animation.
Read more about the book and the film on Shaun’s website.
Thanksgiving Day, which was celebrated on November 27 in the US, was also a special day for legendary Chicago no-budget filmmaker, David “The Rock” Nelson. It was, in fact, his 52nd birthday.
On that day, Nelson appeared on Chicago’s WGNTV — who seem to have adopted him — in order to present his latest turkey… um, film: The Turkey Monster:
Happy [belated] birthday, David, from the Undead Backbrain!
Nelson followed this up with a special all-in competition match against none other than legendary Deadite slayer, Bruce “Evil Dead” Campbell — an event honoured by “The Rock”‘s friends from Chicago All-Star Wrestling (who produced this poster).
And a special “Hi!” from Kaiju Search-Robot Avery, who directed me to all this stuff!
With its elegant referencing of W.B. Yeats’ poem, “The Second Coming”:
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
James Morrow’s Godzilla-allusive new novel, Slouching Towards Hiroshima, slouches towards a release date in February 2009.
In the tradition of Godzilla as both a playful romp and a parable of the dawn of the nuclear era, this original satire blends the destruction of World War II with the halcyon pleasure of monster movies. In the summer of 1945 war is reigning in the Pacific Rim, while in the U.S., Syms Thorley continues his life as a B-movie actor. But the U.S. Navy would like to use Thorley in their top-secret Knickerbocker Project, putting the finishing touches on the ultimate biological weapon: a breed of gigantic, fire-breathing, mutant iguanas. Thorley is to don a rubber suit that will transform him into the merciless Gorgantis and star in a film that simulates the destruction of a miniature Japan—if the demonstration succeeds, the Japanese will surrender, sparing thousands of lives; if it fails, the mutant lizards will be unleashed. Godzilla devotees and history buffs alike will be fascinated by this conspiratorial secret history of a war, a weapon, and an unlikely hero who will have to give the most convincing performance of his life. (Amazon)
And while we anticipate the monstrous beauties of upcoming blockbusters such as Monster X Strikes Back, Outlander, Monsters vs Aliens, Star Trek, Reigo: The Deep Sea Monster vs the Battleship Yamato, Evangelion 1.0 and the like, spare a thought for ultra-low-budget efforts such as ZuZu, Queen of the Monsters! (US-2006; dir Ace Fronton) — a daikaiju spoof in the form of a children’s pantomime, now available on DVD:
From beyond the moon comes atomic evil, sent to destroy every living thing on earth! No-one can stop it but ZuZu, Queen of the Monsters!
SEE ZuZu, the Queen of all the Animals, and her helpers, do battle against the forces of Evil!
SEE all the creatures of the Magic Forest! The Mad Hatter! The Ice Cream Bunny! And many more!
SEE the evil witch of Saturn and her fantastic atomic laboratory!
SEE the sinister TV commercial which turns people into Zombies!
SEE an army of monsters come to life before your very eyes!
SEE Atom Bombs rock the entire planet!
SEE giant monsters crush entire cities!
SEE the world teeter on the very brink of annihilation, with no one to stop it but
ZUZU, QUEEN OF THE MONSTERS!!!
Synopsis:
In the Magic Forest lives ZuZu, Queen of the Animals. ZuZu is sad, because her friend Cat has passed on. As ZuZu greets a new day, she hears something rustling in the bushes. It is Cat, now in human form. ZuZu’s pals, Dog and Pup greet Cat, and they all go to school.
Meanwhile, on Saturn, the evil queen PuPu decides to destroy the earth. She creates an evil monster, FrankenPuPu, in her laboratory, intending to send him to earth and make him the President. PuPu enlists the aid of KuKu, her henchman, and orders him to become Vice President. PuPu sends the evil pair to earth.
ZuZu asks the Mad Hatter to run for President against FrankenPuPu. He agrees, and gives a compelling speech on television. It looks like the Mad Hatter may win, but PuPu devises a hypnotic TV commercial which brainwashes everyone into voting for FrankenPuPu. Come election day, Frankenpupu is elected. On his first day as president, Frankenpupu promises to kill all the animals.
Meanwhile, PuPu creates a giant monster to distract the world while she gathers up all the animals to be slaughtered. ZuZu asks the Fairy of the Dawn for help. The good Fairy manifests a storm which sends the animal ark backwards, and the animals back to their homes. ZuZu defeats the giant monster before he can wreak more havoc. FrankenPuPu and KuKu are impeached, thrown into a rocket, and shot back to Saturn.
That character is the giant monster Pulala. What can I say?
The makers of the in-progress daikaiju-inspired audioplay Gualagon have sent us some more images created to accompany the audioplay when it is completed. They are, I think you’ll agree, rather spectacular.
And for a change, the monster’s military opponents:
Onechanbara [aka Chanbara Beauty] (Japan-2008; dir. Yôhei Fukuda)
Onechanbara: The Movie is the sort of film that potentially raises many questions, not the least of which is “Why is that cute Japanese chick wearing a bikini, a feather boa and cowboy accessories when she’s wandering a post-apocalyptic world killing infection-spreading zombies?”
However, it’s also the sort of flick that quickly renders such questions irrelevant, because, you know, the answer is obvious. She’s wearing such basically impractical gear because it looks cool and sexy. As we should know if we’re educated cinema aficionados, looking cool and sexy is, in this sort of game-inspired cinematic context, what it’s all about. Posturing.
Onechanbara gets stuck into classic head-busting zombie action from the get-go, then introduces in rapid succession the über-zombie that is bound to be big trouble, the sexy chick from a magical bloodline who slashes the walking dead with her sword’s flaming blade, the attractive, morally compromised, embittered younger sister (wearing her school uniform) and the equally attractive, psychologically damaged woman with ample cleavage, leather trousers and coat. This latter wields a formidable shotgun that blows zombies apart with bloodsplattery aesthetic violence and never runs out of ammunition. Pretty well five minutes in and we’ve got all the essentials — can rest easy in knowing not to expect a Romeroesque metaphor-driven zombie apocalypse here, and so settle back to enjoy the deliberate dissonance created by the contrast between beauty in motion and gore-drenched zombie nastiness.
On the beauty side, the film’s main focus, Eri Otoguro playing Aya the cowgirl, wields her katana and her physical attributes with an air of vague self-consciousness that only occasionally slips into awkwardness. She’s no Aya Ueto (Azumi), Yumiko Shaku (The Princess Blade) or Michelle Yeoh — having been chosen with more regard for cuteness and her ability to wear the gear than acting ability or martial art expertise — but she’s generally fine in a role where the SFX cover a multitude of sins. The rest of the time she does an impersonation of Clint Eastwood (albeit Clint Eastwood wearing a bikini, high-heeled boots and feather boa) — unsmiling and grim, tormented by past tragedies and consumed by a desire for revenge. Naturally, she postures beautifully.
As I said above, posturing is vital. Moments of physical stillness flow into sequences of exaggerated movement. Aya’s blade sweeps through the air leaving a magical fire trail, slices zombie flesh and continues its trajectory as blood splatters the camera lens, then is held suspended in samurai fashion, forming a momentary tableau like a defining frame from a graphic novel. Onechanbara has a live-action manga style to it, though in fact it is based on a series of video games. The video game background should be fairly obvious from the small group of characters, the linear plotline that moves from one fight sequence to another, the journey to the source of the Evil, and the final confrontation with the Big Bad (as Western cousin Buffy the Vampire Slayer would put it). But these characteristics are as common in action films, fantasy books and manga as they are in VGs, so there’s really no point in quibbling over absentee narrative complexities.
Not that I felt inclined to quibble while watching the film. It was fun. It was visually interesting. It had just enough of a dramatic undercurrent to keep the less viscerally stimulated part of my brain distracted while the rest of it hummed along to the visual music of zombies, hot chicks, supernatural swordplay, artistically splattered blood, frequent action, posture-driven angst and low-budget style. I got what I expected — plus, perhaps, a bit more. I was content.
John Wyndham’s The Day of the Triffids has always been one of my favourite SF novels. It’s up there among the great “apocalypse” stories, with a well-thought-out scenario, good writing and character drama, not to mention superb “monsters”. The concept of animated plants that humanity can deal with in the normal course of events because of inherent limitations in their biology (no eyes) — until our competitive edge is removed via an unconnected accident (spectacular high-atmospheric cosmic lightshow that causes blindness) — is inspired.
If beginnings are the single most important aspect of a novel’s success, then The Day of the Triffids hits it right on the money, with one of the best opening lines in SF:
When a day you happen to know is Wednesday starts off by sounding like Sunday, there is something seriously wrong somewhere.
Mid-action, a mystery, pure unadulterated intrigue… Of course, it’s also where it goes from there that gives this sentence its power.
The Day of the Triffids has been filmed several times: once, in 1962, by Steve Sekely and Freddie Francis (the latter uncredited), starring Howard Keel and Janette Scott:
“And I really got hot / When I saw Janette Scott fight a triffid that spits poison and kills.” (Rocky Horror Show)
This version is entertaining, but it deviates from the book considerably, not least in its Janette Scott/Kieron Moore lighthouse subplot and the resultant “happy” ending.
Much more accurate and far scarier is the 1981 BBC-produced 6-part mini-series, with its eerily beautiful Triffids — not grotesque here, but flower-like. These are much more botanically “logical”, a take derived from real-life carnivorous plants. This series was scary in 1981. These days, on DVD, it’s still an excellent work, chilling and suspenseful, with effective if slightly dated effects.
Here is a prologue from it (pre-cosmic lightshow), concerning the Triffids:
Well, now the BBC has announced that there is to be a remake of The Day of the Triffids — this time as a two-part film. Scripted by ER and Law & Order writer Patrick Harbinson, this version will be set in 2011 [the year Skynet goes berserk, I notice*], postulating that the Triffids have been developed/farmed as an alternative source of fuel. When a huge cosmic storm erupts across the heavens, humanity is blinded and all hell breaks loose.
The Guardian reports BBC Wales head of drama, Julie Gardner, as saying: “The Day of the Triffids is a classic title. I’m excited that its powerful story is being remade for television. We’re hoping to attract a legion of fans as well as give nightmares to a new generation of viewers.”
I for one an eager to see this. The BBC has been on a bit of a roll lately, with the success of its Doctor Who revamp. Despite the remake status, I’m rather optimistic about how it will turn out.
Meanwhile, the following clip may not reflect the design or SFX of the new series — especially as it has nothing whatsoever to do with it — but it is an interesting CGI vision of the Triffids that I stumbled upon while looking for the YouTube clip from the 1981 series:
As a side note, The Guardian claims that there were BBC TV adaptations of the story before the well-known 1981 version, in 1971, 1973 and 1980. That claim I haven’t been able to verify yet.
* Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles reference.
