Poltergeist (1982) – A Cautionary Tale Regarding the Dangers of TV

This movie was very silly, and it really has nothing to do with poltergeists, does it? It’s more of a haunting, followed by the onset of a zombie apocalypse, right? I mean, there’s an angsty adolescent girl, but she’s not around for most of it, and her angst has nothing to do with the events. By the end we’re given to understand it’s the angry dead people wreaking havoc.

Things that were good:

1.  Learning that TV stations used to broadcast the national anthem before going off the air for the evening. I was born in 1979. I have no recollection of this.
2. Kids seeing things the grown ups can't. This compounded by kids conscious and wandering the house or talking to blank TV screens while they’re supposed to be sleeping is a nice little stress builder for all the parents in the viewership.
3. A guy’s face rotting and him peeling it off. Okay, I looked away, and my husband told me when it was over, but the idea was cool. And gross. And the maggots. And that he set the meat directly on the countertop instead of on a cutting board. Horrifying cross-contamination of surfaces. Gross. So much horror here. (That one wasn’t very smooth, was it?)
4. The clown appearing out of nowhere and dragging a kid out of bed. Kid could take him though. Kid for the win. By the way, did you guys know Oliver Robins almost died for realz in that scene? The puppet ACTUALLY tried to choke him. Read about it in the “Did you know” triviasection on his IMDB page.
5. The giant yawning esophagus of hell. That looked like an expensive effect.

Things that were horrible:

1. Was that wasted beer in the RC car scene? Moment of silence. (Too non sequitur? Sorry.)
2. A tornado in Los Angeles? What?
3. The mother’s inadequate reaction to her daughter’s disappearance. If it were me, I wouldn’t sleep for days, and my fingers would probably be bloody from clawing at the floors/walls of the closet, and from the first moment I hear that kid’s voice through the TV, I’d never turn it off. So sitting across the table from the paranormal investigator and being all affectionate with my hubby wouldn’t happen. I get that they’re trying to communicate how dulled the family’s become to the paranormal, and, yeah, that might eventually happen, but I don’t think you get dulled toward the absence of your child. They’d probably have to put me in the loony bin. She does finally almost earn mama-bear points when the giant skeleton-y goo monster is blocking her way to the kids’ room, and she’s all, “Leave my kids alone,” or whatever she screams. I kinda wanted her to grab it by its gooey little face and toss it's Satanic ass down the stairs so she could go save her kids. But she fell down the stairs instead. Let down.
4. The lack of respect toward the medium. Hey, 1982, you’re not allowed to laugh at people because the look or sound different. That was played like a gag, and it made me hate Coach for playing along.
5. Coach’s not-really-trying-too-hard effort to get his wife and daughter to breathe after they fall through the purgatory portal. Didn't they have CPR in 1982? And what is that, cherry Jello? Is that supposed to be some kind of Satanic special sauce or something? Maybe you should wipe it away from their noses and mouths, clear the airways, check for a pulse, and perhaps begin rescue breathing.
6. The choreography of the esophagus scene. “Son, grab your sister’s hand—but only by the tips of her fingers! For God’s sake, don’t get a decent grip on, like, her wrist or something! Okay! I’m going to pull, and you two, just kind of stumble-walk out of the room.” Stellar work there, Mr. Spielberg. The time and money went to the esophagus, huh?
7. Skeletons popping up everywhere. That was utterly silly. I mean, side-clenching WTF silly. Was it scary by 1982 standards? Furthermore, this whole section seemed like an add-on. Like the family is safe, they’re moving, and Shit, this film is too short. Okay, we’ll make them stay there one more night. But we already said they’ be staying at the Holiday Inn. We don’t have the time or money to reshoot that scene, so let’s hope no one noticed that. Oh, look, Mr. Spielberg. More money. Should we reshoot that scene now? Nah, let's just spend it making all hell break loose.
8. That it’s called “poltergeist” and it’s not about poltergeists. It’s like recording a biography of Ice Cube and naming it after Dr. Dre instead. Swing and a miss. Kinda like this blog/review.

Poltergeist. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1982. DVD.

One Man and One Woman...for Life?

Last Sunday I went to church.

Those of you who know me well also know that church is no longer part of my custom. But sometimes, when I'm visiting my mom, I go with her. Mostly because I think it makes her happy, but also because I really like some of the people she goes to church with. But they aren't the ones I'm writing about today.

Midway through a sermon on 2 Timothy 4:1-8, the interim pastor inserted a little rant than began with something along the lines of "I don't dislike homosexuals, but..."and finished with "but the Bible says one man and one woman for life." This was greeted with a few amens, and my very irritated, furrowed brow.

I've noticed this notion has been dragged out repeatedly to defend withholding civil rights from homosexuals. But when was the last time someone used it to prevent heterosexual divorcees (outside of the Catholic church) from remarrying? You don't hear a lot of sermons exhorting divorced congregation members to abandon their current families and return to their first marriages lest they continue to commit adultery. And Jesus spoke to that in the New Testament, even. Matthew 5:32 "But I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, makes her the victim of adultery, and anyone who marries a divorced woman commits adultery." Mmkay. So that's not some law of the old covenant. That's Jesus talking. And Christians really like Jesus. But they're super busy being worried about the heterosexuality of their mantra than the spousal quantity and length of sentence involved.

You know what else? One man and one woman is not the Biblical example at all. More like one man and 700 wives, and maybe 300 concubines. Everybody picks on Solomon, but he's not the only bigamist of the Bible. Here's a list.

You know what's even more fun than that? The Bible doesn't actually say "one man and one woman for life." Nope. Try and find it if you can. I spent most of the remainder of the sermon searching Biblical concordances on my smartphone, but I couldn't find it either.

There's Genesis 2:24 -- the part that goes "That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh." And 1 Corinthians 7:1-16 (read it here) in which Paul encourages the congregation at Corinth to get married only if they can't keep themselves from whoring around otherwise. And Ephesians 5:22-33 (read it here) in which Paul reminds men to love their wives, but tells the women they must submit to their men. Don't get me started on Paul. His misogyny makes me angry enough to spit, but it's not my religion, so whatevs.

My point is, I've heard this "One man, one woman for life" thing for a long time.
And it's not there.


Full disclosure: I'm an atheist, a recovering radicalized Evangelical, and I probably have a chip on my shoulder.

Oh, look what I found at Religion Hurts Humanity. Marriage, as depicted in the Bible:

The Exorcism of Emily Rose

Since I just finished one novel regarding exorcism, I'm, of course, an expert. Which is great, because The Exorcism of Emily Rose follows much the same pattern as The Exorcist, and it’s super-gratifying to feel like I’ve prepared correctly for this experience. The ordeals in the two stories are so similar, in fact, that it feels as though one could have had fan-fiction roots in the other—and The Exorcist did influence The Exorcism of Emily Rose, right? It had to have.

Certainly The Exorcist’s prominent influence in the horror genre contributed to The Exorcism of Emily Rose’s similarities to it. But they are both said to have been based on true stories. Maybe they are based on actual common experience, and that’s simply the way possession functions. Or maybe they’re based on accumulated tradition regarding possession and exorcism. Burning smell, thumping sounds, environmental manipulation, attack followed by eventual possession. I liked The Exorcism of Emily Rose’s addition of the witching hour, though. Nice touch. When the priest busts out The Roman Ritual I was like, “Hey, I knew that was coming!” and I felt smart. Because, yeah, I’m an expert now. I know what they’re talking about.

In my last post I wondered if maybe I found movies scarier than books, though I would have assumed the opposite. But The Exorcism of Emily Rose is scary. And I watched it in broad daylight on a portable DVD player while my husband drove our family across I-70. Not a scary environment. Serious nervousness in the passenger seat anyway. That 3:00 stuff in the dark? Creepy. When the camera pans over to a clock reading 2:59, the anticipation is almost nauseating. The idea of being all alone in your dorm room when there’s that prickle of fear, followed by the unbelievable. There’s no one around to save you from what you have to suspect are delusions. And which is scarier? That it’s real or that you’re losing it?

One hour, two minutes, and forty-five seconds into the film brought an irritating little revelation. We're several days into a trial and we JUST found out there was another witness to the exorcism, AND he's a medical professional? That's handy. Good thing he took the liberty to call the lawyers. Funny that didn't come up in interviews with the defendant or the family. I mean, it DOES seem a little deus ex machina for this to come up right now when it's sorely needed, but whatever. I predict he’s going to die before he’s of any use. *spoiler alert* Oh, look. He died before he was of any use. Tension resolved and was rebuilt again in a matter of minutes.

I liked this movie. It was scary as all get out, but so good. The tension had a certain deliciousness to it. I’d give it four-and-a-half (out of five) stars for enjoyability and tension. Which means, of course, that everyone else probably hated it.

The Exorcism of Emily Rose. Dir. Scott Derrickson. Prod. Tom Rosenberg. By Paul Harris Boardman. Perf. Laura Linney, Tom Wilkinson, and Campbell Scott. Sony Pictures Entertainment, 2005. DVD.

The Exorcist

There’s something wrong with me. I don’t mind the books other people detest, and am entirely irritated by books other people love. The Exorcist appears to be a book other people love.

The movie The Exorcist is the scariest movie I’d ever seen. That girl with her head turned all the way around?—yikes. And that scene appears in the book. I was waiting for it. Maybe that’s why it wasn't all that scary. Or maybe movies are scarier than books. Or maybe things that scared me when I was 23 don’t have as much effect on me, thirteen years later. Or maybe I was distracted by other things.

A writing instructor once told me it’s more important to tell an interesting story than to tell a story well. In his opinion, readers would forgive mistakes if they’re interested enough. And maybe that’s true, but that story would have to be extremely captivating—and this one must not have been compelling enough to obscure distraction.

That sounds really snotty. It's not as though my own writing is free from errors, but you just kind of expect more from a professional, you know?

Writing Mini Lesson, free for the taking

Let’s talk for a moment about the words “started” and “began.” Beginning writers use these words a lot, and we were all beginning writers once. “She started to cry.” “They started running.” And then did they stop? Like immediately? Because that’s the only time these words ought to crop up. If the action is continue or completed, just cut to the chase. “She cried.” “They ran.”

This is William Peter Blatty’s 5th novel. He’s not a beginning writer. Yet, I found three examples of this in two pages.

For example, on page 123 "And then, bending at the waist, started whirling her torso around in rapid, strenuous circles." 

In the next paragraph, "He fetched his medical bag to the window and quickly began to prepare an injection." 

And again on the following page, "Then looked again to Ragan as she started to arch her body upward into an impossible position, bending it backwards like a bow until her head had touched her feet."

So Regan whirled her torso? Okay. 

And the doctor prepared an injection? Good. I assume he finished this, so I don’t need to hear about how he started it unless something terribly interesting occurred in the initiation of the process. And then Regan arched her body. Great. Edit complete. You’re welcome, Mr. Blatty. For just 1¢/word, I’ll clean up the rest of your manuscript for you.

Except I really don’t want to read it a second time. As it is, I think I’ve read it twice in this one effort. Maybe I have a reading comprehension problem that’s never affected my understanding until now, but I found this book hard to read. I don’t usually mind incomplete sentences, but Blatty’s style of painting a scene with a collection of fragments didn't work for me. I had to reread sentences, paragraphs, entire pages. And I figured I’d get use to it, but even after three hundred pages I hadn’t. But not every book is for everybody. This one wasn’t for me.

Oh, and Timons Esaias says you shouldn’t describe a character by having her regard herself in the mirror. You might rewrite that bit on page 17 then, Mr. Blatty.

And Regan, when she’s in control of her own mind, reads more like an eight-year-old than an adolescent. You might—you know—fix that too.

Blatty, William Peter. The Exorcist. New York: Harper, 2013. Print.

Paranormal Activity: Only $15,000 to Make It? You Don’t Say.

Spoiler alert: You’ll probably be annoyed by the production quality of Paranormal Activity more than the ending I’ll spoil in this post. You’ve officially been warned of both.

I am not a fan of the low-budget, camcorder style of the movie Paranormal Activity. Furthermore, I’m not a fan of having had to endure so much of nothing BUT low-budget cinematography at the beginning of the film while it took its sweet time getting to the point.

This film had, what, four actors? Three of whom aren’t noticeably bad? That scene in which the psychic simply must leave because he’s angering the whatever-it-is felt like watching a middle school play in which the actor arrives, looks awkward, sounds awkward, and exits the stage. Audience wonders if there was a point to that. But I’ve consulted the all-knowing and always-trustworthy Wikipedia and been informed that there was no script. So now that scene makes sense in that the actor looked like he was flying by the seat of his pants because he was. And not everybody is cut out for “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” Certainly not a guy with just three credits to his name. Sorry, Mark Fredrichs.

Which brings me to my next observation: Oren Peli didn’t bother naming his characters. Katie is played by Katie. Micah is played by Micah. Amber is played by Amber. And Dr. Fredrichs is played by Mark Fredrichs. Very creative. Oh, wait. There WAS a fifth actor. Diana is played by Ashley Palmer, which tells me it would’ve been too hard to recognize “Ashley” if spelled by a Ouija board from their camera angle. Not that we could see what was being spelled out—we just took Micah’s word for it that it wasn’t “candy bar” or “marshmallow” or something similarly delicious and non-threatening.

But what a fun trip down memory lane to watch for an hour and twenty-six minutes how we wanted our homes decorated just one decade ago. Rear-projection TVs. Enormous furniture. The latest in ten-pound laptops. Looks like Peli has a nice home, since he shot it there, saving a couple more nickels and getting a home reno in the process. Clever.

So was it scary? I thought so. I mean, the sounds and footsteps did nothing for me, but when Katie gets out of bed and just stands there FOR TWO HOURS, that was scary. Especially when she left the room for God-knows-where. Micah, though, when he notices she’s gone, stops to pick up the camera while he searches for her. Glad you weren’t too worried, there Micah. I’ll be real sorry when your arrogant self-involved got-this-under-control ass dies later. *ahem*

I notice he didn’t make that mistake twice though, because when he vaults out of bed after Katie’s second stand-and-stare scene, and to be fair she IS screaming bloody murder this time, he leaves the camera where it sits. Consequently, Katie had to throw Micah’s lifeless body at the camera so we’d know what took place. Guess the demon wanted it on the recording, otherwise it’s not really clear why possessed Katie had to bring him back upstairs and throw him at the camera—it was solely for the audience’s benefit, I guess. Not actually scary.

When the bedsheets moved—that was scary. When the thing dragged Katie out of bed and down the hallway—that was really effing scary. But when she’s sitting in the hall squeezing a literally bloody cross and it’s clear she’s been possessed, I really didn’t care what happened after that. And the stand-and-stare trick only worked on me the first time. We crossed the too-stupid-to-live point when they didn’t call the demonologist, so I could wash my hands of someone who didn’t want to leave when it got ridiculously bad. I know why they don’t call in the other professional, though, and it’s not that Micah “has it under control” or is afraid it’ll get worse at that point—he clearly IS hell-bent on making it worse if he can. It’s just that Peli doesn’t want to hire another actor, so no demonologist.

Could I watch it alone? Yeah. And I still consider myself a wimp about these things. On a 1 to 10 scariness scale, 1 being The Care Bears and 10 being the middle-of-the-night features produced by my own brain when I’m under the influence of Benadryl, I’d give this a 5. Most of what’s scary here is just that we’re hard-wired to be afraid of monsters messing with us while we’re asleep, and that’s what’s played up most in this film.

Paranormal Activity. Dir. Oren Peli. Perf. Katie Featherston and Micah Sloat. Paramount/DreamWorks, 2009. DVD.

Grave’s End: A Pretty Convincing Ghost Story. Almost.

The following post includes commentary on and possible spoilers for Grave’s End: A True Ghost Story, by Elaine Mercado, R.N.

I’ll admit it. I kind of liked this book. A lot more than I thought I would.

Grave’s End started with two strikes against it in my opinion. One: It’s a “true” ghost story, and I didn’t believe that even as far as I could throw it. Oh, you’ve got a story about a ghost sighting or an angel or something? You don’t say. Hmm. I’m sure you won’t follow up with a retelling riddled with unsubstantiated claims and attention-seeking language. (Okay, not ALL of them sound like this, and I’ll admit I hear this kind of thing mostly from middle schoolers.) Surprising to me at least, was that Elaine Mercado was able to keep such language to a minimum, in spite of the kind of book she was writing. Which brings me to that other strike. Two: It's a memoir. Those aren’t usually written very well. They're packed with filters such as “I thought,” “I felt,” and “I heard.” They overuse “started to” and “began.” They wander off on autobiographical tangents that aren’t pertinent to the central story. And this memoir does all of those things. (How much do I really need to know about Mercado’s nursing school experience? Almost nothing. Ditto marital woes.) But, assignment or no, once I got going on this book I was going to read it through to the end.

Somewhere in the pages of Grave’s End my suspension of disbelief morphed into something like incredulous belief, and I admit to uncertainty. Mercado tells her story in a non-self-aggrandizing, believable fashion. She inspires my trust. Consequently I have to believe that she experienced what she says she experienced, and I don’t have a skeptic’s explanation. But over here, back in the real world I live in, I still don’t believe in ghosts. That doesn’t make sense to compartmentalize belief like that, but I’ll work on it and try to make myself more open to the idea. A spooky night at Gettysburg might be just the ticket—stay tuned.

Mercado addresses, although casually, one of my problems with belief in ghosts which is that ghosts always seem to be people. Mercado’s medium, however, indicates that two dogs were also present in her vortex and went to the light. But we kill animals all the time. Not just the ones we eat and the bugs we step on, but what about the incalculable number of microorganisms that kick the bucket while living on my person? Do they have little microspirits that have to find the light too? And if they don’t, do their little souls wander aimlessly looking for the way out of limbo? Am I being haunted by tragic little dead things, and I don’t even know it?

[Pauses to wash face with baby shampoo, washing away the spirits of long-gone eyelash mites.]

My point is, things die all the time. If there are ghosts, why aren’t there just shitloads of them? Everywhere. All the time.

But Elaine Mercado didn’t write a dissertation on the existence of the paranormal. She just wrote her story, and delivered it to the best of her ability. And it made a pretty good story. Maybe it would even make a compelling movie. Wait—wait a minute.

[click click tappity tap tap tap]

Look atwhat I found.

Oh. It was on a reality TV show.

Okay, I don’t believe her so much anymore.

Ah well, belief was fun while it lasted.

Mercado, Elaine. Grave's End: A True Ghost Story. Woodbury, MN: Llewellyn Publications, 2001. Print.

The Amityville Horror--Déjà Vu All Over Again

This post contains spoilers for Jay Anson's novel The Amityville Horror.

I can’t be the only person reading this and feeling the arc and "reader feels" of The Shining, which, since I read it two weeks ago is still very fresh in my mind. The Amityville Horror has a slow-burning start with loads of backstory. Unlike The Shining, anything horrific is told with emotional detachment, so it doesn’t feel gut wrenching. At all. It’s a little inferior in that respect, but not terribly. Also unlike The Shining these characters don’t seem to have anything particularly wrong with them. They were just fine—right up until they encountered the house. But there is a similarity. It (the house/demonic force) affects each of the family members differently, and one family member in particular. And that one is the five year old. Everyone’s behavior changes, but the dad becomes impatient, particularly with the children. And it’s cold. And that hedge/stone lion moves. And being born with a caul causes psychic ability. Rip off.

But then Twilight was a rip off of Pride and Prejudice, and did I like it? Damned straight, I did.

I’m not saying it’s not worth reading. In fact, I think I enjoyed this reading experience better because once the tension built, it maintained a consistent level of enjoyable WTF, without pushing me beyond my comfort zone. Stephen King, however, almost always pushes me past where I’m comfortable. Some things I particularly liked: The way the house affects EVERYONE, including those who simply visit. AND that a momentary interaction with the house is enough for them to carry its malevolence away with them, like a virus. The priest with his car trouble, flu, and blisters. The brother and his money. Even the paranormal investigator who catches the flu before even arriving. It’s interesting that the house’s power isn’t constrained to just the property on which it stands. It tags along, effing things up for people who even think about the place. That’s fun.

Gawd, I’m shaping up to be such a pessimist. I hate to harp on what I didn’t like. Really, The Amityvile Horror was a fun read, and I didn’t want to put it down. I’d totally read another Jay Anson book—probably 666, which is the only one he wrote between Amityville Horror (1977) and his death in 1980.

But sometimes the action in this book was down-right irritating. Like, hey, crazy shit is happening in this house. Stone lions moving, weird smells, unseen presences, but it doesn’t even occur to Kathy, the mom, that the green goo could be a paranormal manifestation too (226). It must be those blasted kids. And when George (the dad) brings his dog inside to see if he senses anything, the dog reacts to exactly the things we expect him to—the secret room in the cellar, the sewing room, and Missy’s room. And George acts like he doesn’t understand why the dog would possibly behave strangely—“‘Goddammit, Harry…What’s bugging you?’”—when that’s exactly why he’s dragging the dog room-to-room in the first place. And then—“‘Nothing happened, that’s what happened,’ he said” (259). Perhaps he was expecting the dog to write a dissertation regarding his suspicions and discomfort, since George is blind to canine forms of communication. Sigh.

And then there’s the priest—Father Mancuso. I get why he wouldn’t want to go back to the house, but why doesn’t he just send another priest. Or someone to attempt an exorcism? He’s just like, “Sorry, suckas—you’re on your own. I’m not going to help you, therefore the Church can’t help you.” Thanks, buddy. May your itchy palms sprout humiliating hairs.

Based on a true story, my ass. But I wonder how much it increases a book’s sales if you swear on your grandmother’s grave that it’s true. Not that I’m interested in besmirching my grandmother’s grave. I’m just curious. Ahem. For a friend, of course.

Anson, Jay. The Amityville Horror. New York: Pocket Star, 1977. Print.