Shriek of the Mutilated
Starring: Alan Brock, Jennifer Stock, Tawn Ellis, Michael Harris, and Darcy Brown
Written by: Ed Adlum and Ed Kelleher
Directed by: Michael Findlay

Shriek of the Mutilated is little more than a low-budget, live-action episode of Scooby-Doo. A college professor and four of his students travel to Hudson’s Bay to look for the Yeti and, well, I think you can figure out what happens from there.

Shriek of the Mutilated is one of those films that some people describe as being "so bad it’s good," but that’s a misnomer. There’s not much "good" about Shriek, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a viewing (think "so bad it’s entertaining," instead). You just have to know what you’re going to get out of the experience. You have to ignore the bad acting and the glaring plot inconsistencies (last I heard, the Yeti lived in the Himalayas, but hey, who cares?), and focus on simply enjoying the film for what it is: a cheesy, fun ride. How can you not like a horror movie where the characters use the corpse of one of their dead friends as bait to lure the elusive Yeti out into the open (to take its picture, no less).

You don’t watch a movie like Shriek expecting to be blown away by the aesthetics. On the contrary, it’s the film’s lack of production values that lends itself to one slight plot revelation that I admittedly didn’t see coming. I won’t tell you what it is, but I will say that in this one instance it actually pays off to have zero-to-no budget.

Taking shots at Shriek is like taking shots at Plan 9 From Outer Space or any of the big bug movies of the 1950s: It’s easy to do but not really fair. Some horror movies genuinely try and scare you, while others are just out to entertain. Shriek of the Mutilated is one of the latter.

Ian

The Lurker at the Threshold
by H.P. Lovecraft and August Derleth
Carroll and Graf Publishers

Before I embark on this review, I should mention, for the Lovecraft layman, that despite the man’s name on the cover, this book was not written by H.P. Lovecraft. During his lifetime, Lovecraft refused to pander to publishers for money or fame, and was very protective of his writing, as he believed art was "pure self-expression." However, he also had many admirers who believed his voice should continue to echo down the centuries after he was gone. One of these people was August Derleth, and it is he who is largely responsible for this work of fiction. The Lurker at the Threshold is but one of the many "posthumous collaborations," or as they’re sometimes called, the "Derleth Knockoffs." It’s difficult to review a book such as this, since one can’t really determine which writer was responsible for the dreck. Of course, considering the work of both writers, I feel justified in hazarding a guess.

The Lurker at the Threshold is told in three parts, each one constructing the story of Ambrose Dewart and his return to his ancestral home in a haunted part of western Massachusetts called Billington’s Wood. The house was left to Dewart by a distant relative named Alijah Billington, who is rumoured in town to have been a black magician. As Dewart learns more about the history of his home and "Him Who lurks at the threshold," he begins to take on the traits of his ancestor. In the Lovecraftian mythos, houses and property aren’t the only things passed on after death.

The second part of the story is told from the point of view of Dewart’s cousin, Stephen Bates, who spends time at the Billington house and learns first-hand of Dewart’s personality change.

The third section is the account of a professor’s assistant named Winfield Phillips. Through him we learn that Dewart has indeed taken up his ancestor’s devil-worshiping ways, and only Phillips and his employer, Dr. Lapham, can stop him from inviting the Thing from Outside across the threshold and into our world for milk and cookies.

Derleth does an adequate job of imitating Lovecraft in the first section of the book, offering up an atmospheric description of the Wood and how it doesn’t synch with the surrounding area. The second section provides much more character interaction than the first, but mostly seems designed to have someone else observe Dewart’s gradual decline into madness. The third section provides the payoff, though Phillips’ description of the story’s horrific conclusion is rife with overwrought explanations that should be obvious after reading the previous sections. While the dangling plot threads are tied up, it’s done in a manner indicative of Derleth’s own systemization of Lovecraft’s themes.

Though Derleth deserves credit for ensuring the works of his correspondent and muse were published for posterity, he falls far short of a writer in his own right. His stories try too hard to be Lovecraftian, the constantly changes of perspective disrupt the narrative flow, and putting Lovecraft’s name on books that were written mostly by himself certainly don’t sweeten the deal.

Ian

Updates abound! More essays, more photos & artwork, new short stories, a novel drawing ever closer to completion, and to top it all off, in an effort to avoid creditors and ex-girlfriends (or maybe just because I’m lazy), I done grown a beard. More Wesley Wyndam-Pryce than Grizzly Adams, no worries there. Not sure how long I’ll keep it (and really, who cares, right?), but I thought I’d try something new. Yeah, I know you’re all enthralled. Chris already laughed when I told him, and Jake thinks I should go more for the Episode Two Obi-Wan look, but that’s a little too fanboy for me. And no, I won’t be posting any photos. I wouldn’t do that to y’all. Even just writin about this kind of shtuff puts me into spitting distance of blog country, and we all know how much I like that. This ain’t no live journal (or dead journal, for that matter); I don’t post the list of the books/dvds I own so you can all marvel at how much I own; I don’t talk about anything overtly personal that doesn’t relate to writing (sometimes the connections are tenuous, but they’re there); and I don’t post pics of the cats or the girlfriend or, sweet Lizzie Borden, the beard. Most of you reading this are writers, so just use your imaginations. Now, onward:

Before my website traffic blew a fuse at Rogers last month, I had planned a series of book and movie reviews leading up to Halloween. It’s one month late, but here it is. Enjoy.

The Nightmare That Is Dreamcatcher (and other stupid puns)

Dreamcatcher
Starring Morgan Freeman, Tom Sizemore, Thomas Jane, Damian Lewis, Jason Lee, Timothy Olyphant, and Donnie Wahlberg
Directed by Lawrence Kasdan
Screenplay by William Goldman & Lawrence Kasdan
Based on the novel by Stephen King

Dreamcatcher is a movie that can’t quite decide what it wants to be. Even as an adaptation of a Stephen King novel, it only qualifies as being partially faithful to the source material (nothing new there). The result is an off-balance collection of snippets from other, more successful movies that strives hard to form a cogent narrative but ends up bursting at the seams like an overripe alien head.

Directed by Lawrence Kasdan (The Big Chill) from a screenplay by William Goldman (The Princess Bride, Misery), and featuring a cast of veteran regulars (Morgan Freeman, Tom Sizemore) and up-and-coming relatively-unknowns (Damian Lewis, Jason Lee, Thomas Jane, Timothy Olyphant), the film would seem to have blockbuster written all over it – and Dreamcatcher does have its moments. Unfortunately, that’s all it has.

The story focuses on four friends who, as kids, befriended a mentally handicapped boy named "Duddits." Together they performed a heroic act and, as a result, each was blessed (or cursed) with a supernatural gift. As adults, the men lead sedentary lives (Same shit, different day is but one of their many maxims) and find their only solace in a yearly hunting trip in the woods of Maine. Unfortunately, their plans are interrupted this time around when a hunter sporting a strange growth stumbles upon their group. This growth, which looks like red fungus (called Ripley, "after the tough broad in those alien movies"), soon gives birth to one of the aptly-named "shit weasels" – an Alien-esque chestburster that takes a wrong turn at Albuquerque and comes out the victim’s ass.

The shit weasels are but a small part of a huge alien plan to contaminate the entire world. The four men and their preternatural connection with Duddits is the only thing that stands in the way of their conquest – that and the Blueboy UFO clean-up team headed by a slightly wacko Morgan Freeman and a mostly nonchalant Tom Sizemore.

The film is not great, but features some memorable moments, such as the military attack on the crashed UFO, and a tranquil sequence where various forest animals parade through the

winter wilderness. Sadly, the film degrades into Hollywood–style grandstanding and over-the-top CGI that all but screams "For your Oscar consideration." And a surprise (and stupid) twist in the final act will have fans of the book shaking their heads.

People say the book is always better than the movie, and in the case of Dreamcatcher, I’m inclined to agree. While the book told an interesting story with strong, likeable characters, Dreamcatcher the movie is an unfortunate case of SSDD.

(I had a difficult time coming up with a title for this review that didn’t harp on the blatantly obvious wordplay inherent to a movie titled Dreamcatcher. Some of these gems included:

King’s Dreamcatcher A Real Nightmare
King’s Dreamcatcher Won’t Give You Nightmares
Dreamcatcher Won’t Keep You Up At Night

Ian

Stephen King and the comments he made after receiving his National Book Award have been all over the news these past few days. Since I just published an essay on critics and book snobs, I thought I’d take this moment to give you all an update on the King–Bloom debacle.

For those of you who don’t know, the publishing world has been in a flurry of activity this past month after Yale professor and literary critic Harold Bloom wrote a piece for the L.A. Times blasting popular authors Stephen King and J.K. Rowling for being … well, popular authors.

The attack came after word that King would be receiving a National Book Award for his contribution to literature. Bloom feels King is not deserving of the award, which has been given in the past to more "literary" types, such as Arthur Miller and Philip Roth.

In his acceptance speech, King said he had no patience for "those who make a point of pride in saying they have never read anything by John Grisham, Tom Clancy, Mary Higgins Clark or any other popular writer. What do you think? You get social-academic brownie points for deliberately staying out of touch with your own culture?"

It was a good speech and the audience gave him a standing ovation. In fact, the only people who I could see getting offended by what King said would be the book snobs (and maybe a small selection of elitist English majors who are under the false impression that they really do get brownie points for their academic tunnel vision). What King said wasn’t an affront to any specific person or group, but a statement against close-mindedness and insularity, which everyone, not only readers, should support. Nobody likes blanket statements for the same reasons nobody likes generalizations or stereotypes: they stifle individuality and creativity, which are two key ingredients to writing good fiction.

Likewise, "Critical Condition" was not written to justify King’s work, but to defend against the naked arrogance of the haughty literati. Nowhere in the essay does it say that you should give his work a chance, or how I feel about his writing or J.K. Rowling’s for that matter. The essay wasn’t about whether or not King’s books constitute good or bad fiction – everyone is still entitled to their own opinion. But it should be an unbiased one, without influence from the views of short-sighted critics.

On an amusing note, Shirley Hazzard, winner of this year’s National Book Award for Fiction, attempted to decry King’s speech by saying, "I don’t think giving us a reading list of those who are most read at the moment is much of a satisfaction." When broached later by the press, she admitted that she’d never actually read a Stephen King novel. In her own words, she was too busy reading Shakespeare and Conrad (and if that’s not a snooty attitude, then I don’t know what is).

I find it hard to believe that some people – notably those who claim lofty positions in publishing – can’t wrap their heads around the fact that someone can write horror fiction and also be talented. It’s as if they believe one must cancel out the other, and that’s just absurd.

Of course, it could be said that because Harold Bloom is 73 and Shirley Hazzard is 72, that they come from a different school of publishing and hold dated opinions about the definition of literature. Unfortunately, I think that would be letting them off the hook much too easily.

King deserves his award as much as anyone else on the list of winners. Are his books truly worthy of being taught in the classroom? That’s not a question any critic has the right to answer. Ask it again in a hundred years.

Ian

(Note: I just learned that King was hospitalized today for pneumonia. Apparently, he had gone to the National Book Awards against his doctor’s wishes, and he’s paying the price for it now. He underwent a thoracotomy to remove fluid

from his lungs, and he’s expected to make a full recovery. Looks like he came close to getting that literary respect a little sooner than he expected.)

I recently taught myself some basic PHP – incidentally, because I’ve seen photo galleries on other websites created with this handy, html-friendly code, and I thought my own could use an upgrade. It’s also fun to learn something new every now and again (though, with the advent of faster, more efficient websites, my Flash skills have been virtually thrown over the side – meh).

I’m no programmer (as the more web-savvy of you have probably already noticed), but as someone currently making his living as a webmaster for a large organization, I guess I know enough to get by. I’d say I pick up very quickly the skills I want to learn; those I plan to implement either at work or on my personal websites. (When it comes to computer/web-related learning, my brain just ain’t wetwired for classroom learnin’.) Case in point, PHP. I’ve seen what other people have done with it to create much more polished-looking photo galleries than the one I had until recently. After a couple of weeks of playing with the code (and consulting at least half a dozen online tutorials), I have created something a sight better than what I had, and much more efficient, to boot.

In September I bought a new 35mm camera; something I never thought I would ever do after buying adigital. Suffice to say, I had a hankering for real film. All of the new pictures I’ve been taking have been with the new camera. I’m not sure if you can see the difference, but I sure can.

This gallery wouldn’t have been possible without the help of Chris Ball. A good friend of many years, Chris is the one who taught me everything I know about computers and web development (which means if you don’t like how the site looks, he gets to absorb some of the blame). In addition to working out the gallery bugs, Chris also set up my new web space – a decision made after I decided to expand the photography section and redesign the Dr. Pork site. Rogers only gives you 80 Megabytes to play with; Surpass Hosting gave me 400.

None of it would have been possible without Chris’s help.

Thanks, man.

Ian

If I were accused of being snobbish about anything in the publishing industry, it wouldn’t be about the books that people are (or are not) reading; it would be about the grammar and punctuation that writers are (or are not) using.

I’ve already written about my disdain for those who don’t use the serial comma – journalists and magazine writers being the guiltiest of all, though they can hardly be expected to foot all of the blame. After all, they’re only following guidelines set by an industry which – through sparse punctuation and short paragraphs – has always seemed to cater to a lower reading level, that lowest common denominator of which I talk about in my forthcoming essay, "Critical Condition."

Most of the things people feel passionately about, in terms of writing, are things they were taught in school. Some of these things hold true today, but some do not (i.e. one space or two after a period?). As language evolves, so too does grammar and style. We want to hold onto the things we were taught because they become second nature to us. To change them would be like trying to change the hand with which you write.

I’ve include some links to articles that discuss just a few of these issues, with arguments on both sides. You might find yourself hopping from one side of the fence to the other. Though personally, I don’t think I’ll ever waver on that serial comma issue.

Ian

Things that Annoy; e.g. the Misuse of i.e.

Why space-space is a no-no

Dirty Words

I don’t think I’ve ever recommended any music on this site, and although I don’t intend to make it a regular feature, I would suggest you check out a family friend who also happens to be a talented Canadian artist.

Ryan Corrigan (better known as Hawksley Workman) has a new album out called lover/fighter. For those of you who haven’t heard of him, Hawksley is a solo artist from the Huntsville area. While he hasn’t achieved the fame of, say, The Tragically Hip, he’s extremely popular in Europe (shades of David Hasselhoff, I know). At home he has something too big to be called a cult following. In 2002 he won the Juno for Best New Solo Artist, while his single "Jealous of Your Cigarette" won for Best Video. If you know him at all, it’s probably for his breakout hit "Striptease."

A multi-instrumentalist, Hawksley plays almost every part on his albums. His latest release is CD-enhanced and features a behind-the-scenes look at the creative/recording process at his studio, The Schoolhouse, in Huntsville. (The Schoolhouse really is a schoolhouse; the same one, in fact, that Hawksley’s grandmother went to as a child. My uncle, who shot the photos for Hawksley’s (last night we were the) delicious wolves CD, was the one who converted it into a recording studio.)

The new album features plenty of great songs, my favorites being "Autumn’s Here" and the hidden track, "Ilfracombe." Give it a listen; I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

*end shameless endorsement*

Ian

Picked up Wolves of the Calla, the fifth volume in Stephen King’s Dark Tower series. Like it or not, I would recommend not dropping it on your foot – Wolves clocks in at 700+ pages.

It’s been a six-year wait for Wolves, the longest breather King has taken between DT books to date, and I can say – 167 pages into it – the big man doesn’t disappoint. Thankfully, King has already completed the final two volumes, and both books are scheduled to be published in the first and third quarter respectively next year.

I’m also reading The Stress of Her Regard by Tim Powers, a book recommended to me by my editor, and I’m enjoying that as well. If you’ve seen Ken Russell’s film Gothic, then you’d probably enjoy this book, which is almost like an extension of that movie.

The Matrix Revolutions opened today. A friend who saw it said that while it delivers on the action, the ending leaves a bit to be desired – which is a shame, since The Matrix was incredible (duh), and The Matrix Reloaded, while doomed from the start to dwell in the first film’s shadow, wasn’t as bad as the critics made it out to be. I’m going to check out Revolutions for myself in the next day or two.

Oh, and if there was ever any doubt …

You are Neo, from “The Matrix.” You
display a perfect fusion of heroism and
compassion.

What Matrix Persona Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Ian