Scarecrow's Blog From the Darkside

Sometimes we wax nostalgic for the days of the VHS rental stores and how midnight viewing on HBO and Cinemax featured a lot of variety, now consumed by mainly mainstream studio stuff with kiosks sitting outside Walmart and Walgreens, along with Netflix (although, what we once could rent on dvd here has fallen victim to Long Term Wait and Save, with films we once could get very easily not as accessible as in the past) providing dvd rentals. Now you can “instant stream” instead of driving to a rental store or staying up late while the parents are asleep to catch the “naughty movie” that mommy and daddy forbid. I have to admit that I’m not at all familiar with the Witchcraft series of films that started in the late 80s and continued for (count ‘em) 13 (!) films! 13 of these movies. The mind boggles.

You’ll never be rid of me. Like the naughty big-bosomed bad girl she is, that vixen, Julie Strain is naked, rubbing baby oil over her body, and calling out a revenge incantation in a sort-of witchcraft ceremony against Edward Albert for scoring a Vice President gig at his law firm over her man portrayed by Larry Poindexter. There’s this sex scene that bugged the stew out of me due to its continuity problem. Close-ups show Strain with her panties on while long shots have them off. Yeah, I was so aroused by the scene a continuity problem was bothering me. It’s all nice and soft and short, without really looking authentic, even as another woman gets involved, a birthday gift from Strain to him. A little kiss, Strain looking at him, and Larry realizing that her presence even after death still haunts him. It seems Strain’s “bewitched” Larry with a love spell and even after he propels her from their balcony accidentally, she claims, upon dying breath, that she’ll ...

Sometimes I agree with the majority, a hell of a lot of times I don’t. But, I’ll tell you right now that I am among the crowd when it comes to this pitiful pile of dung that dares take the name Night of the Living Dead. What a dull, lifeless, stupid mess. I won’t waste too much time. Barbara is left by her piece of shit brother in the graveyard, driving away as she must fend for herself against the walking dead, the results of a mortician (Sid Haig, sadly misused and I feel bad that his face causes many like me to rent this shit) who isn’t able to cremate their remains as he was supposed to. This movie plays off the scandal involving the Georgia crematorium that didn’t do its job in rendering the corpses of loved ones to ash. Haig quotes bible and likens himself to Jesus in how the dead are seemingly resurrected thanks to his handiwork. Yes, that’s how poor the writing is for this movie. Barb (as she likes to be called), was visiting a cemetery, attending the funeral of...

Howie seems on the surface to be just a likable, clean-cut, hospitable, polite, seemingly amiable, All-American boy, a young man who drives a delivery van for a dry-cleaning business. He has this trigger that snaps him into a total psycho when he picks up hitchhiking girls who dislike their mama and have left home for “wherever”. Howie loves his mama, but what truly pokes his bear is the reminder of his sister, Judy’s leaving home and never returning. Never returning has always tormented his mama so Howie gets really mad at those ungrateful girls who talk candidly rotten about theirs. When you see him batting those eyes and getting bothered, a killing is on the horizon. Calling these wicked girls Judy while pouncing upon them, slapping them a bit before strangling them (even using a wire hanger once), dumping their carcasses (or just leaving them limp) on the ground at whatever dust stop he decides.

La nuit des traquées I look at you…you are there in front of me. We belong to this world. The only one that exists for me. The world of the present moment. Please don’t leave. You are the only memory I have right now. Who is Elisabet? And where did she “escape” from? Picked up by a stranger, a motorist who damn near runs her over with his car, Elisabet, in a gown with no memory of where she belongs or lives, decides to ride with him into Paris. People are following them, needing to get Elisabet back. Is she important to some people? Oh, and who was that red-headed naked chick beckoning for Elisabet, left to her own devices? Elisabet’s memory comes and goes. Details as quick as seconds vanish, yet she can remember a girl named Veronique (the naked chick?) and not even her own name. She goes on and on about how her mind is blank, and her new friend, desperately desiring to help her, gets so frustrated he shakes her in some impulsive attempt to perhaps rattle s...