Happy Veterans, Remembrance, and Armistice Day! I hope it's pleasant and peaceful for all those serving before or since.

The blog hasn't had a good makeover in a long time, and it was overdue. I've been tired of the title for a while, and like this one a lot better. I may tinker with the layout a little over the next couple of days, but this'll probably stay for a good stretch. 

It's almost impossible to date the origin of my fondness for "bad" movies. I grew up in the eighties and early nineties, and the period offered a probably unprecedented smorgasbord of cinematic offal, so it's very hard to judge. In an early expression of my fondness for sci-fi as opposed to fantasy, I insisted that my dad and brother watch the 1988 sci-fi turkey Nightfall (based on an Isaac Asimov story and starring David Birney) with me instead of Willow. Afterwards, I thought it was a mistake, but then I saw Willow years later and... not so much. One of my favorite memories of high school was the series of "bad movie nights" my friends and I threw, which definitely set me on the path to becoming a fitfully obsessive cineaste. It should be stressed that these weren't bad movies so much as obscure ones or cult classics (okay, Caligula was bad--and even worse, boring--but Shaft wasn't, and Flash Gordon's one of my favorite movies of all time). I prided myself on a rather smug enjoyment of bad or weird movies until I started to wonder why exactly they were "bad" or "weird." An early fan of Mystery Science Theater 3000, I delighted in the snark delivered to the less accomplished cinematic works of yesteryear and thought little of it. My attitude probably started to change when I learned of the genuinely high critical reputation of 1955's sci-fi epic This Island Earth--our inaugural movie-fest flick in 1989 or 1990 and subject of the 1996 Mystery Science Theater movie. Things moved apace until I joined the British Horror Films forum in 2003. Under the probably unintended spiritual guidance of film scholar Darrell Buxton (editor of the upcoming review anthology The Shrieking Sixties: British Horror Films of the Sixties, probably due in early-to-mid-2010), I came to see films in a whole new continuum, with A-list monstrosities accorded the exact same critical chance as the most obscure sleeper. Along the way, I came to question my own strictures regarding a film's worth, and was reminded of my internal struggle by Canadian blogger Jaime Weinman in his recent post on the relative worth of different kinds of cinema. Weinman included a link to film scholar Chris Fujiwara's takedown of Mystery Science Theater, some of which touched on reservations of my own concerning my once-beloved TV show. It all combined to make my viewing of two fairly low-budget offerings a little different than it might have been otherwise.

 Blood Gnome (2004): I've long been fascinated by gnomes and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's due to their creepy ubiquity come holiday season, but they've long haunted my imagination, especially since I suspect they're less friendly bearded nature sprites than they are merciless, flesh-eating killers, intent on the destruction of humanity and the domination of the universe. My friend Karen in grad school was notably resistant to this idea, and probably still hasn't forgiven me for proposing it. I hope there's still some room left in the concept, as someone's gone and done a movie about the little sprats. Many of the cheapies that show up in my Netflix emerge that way because I have a wide-ranging interest in horror and sci-fi cinema, but I think Blood Gnome came to my attention simply because I had been researching movies that featured gnomes.* Fully inhabiting the "evil gnomes" groove, Joe Lechago's film is sort of a cross between The Adventures of David the Gnome and Hellraiser, with generous helpings of the second half of the Detroit Metro Times thrown in. A series of brutal, mysterious killings rock Los Angeles' bondage fetish community, and if you just stopped reading right there, you'll be sorry. Crime scene photographer Dan (Vinnie Bilancio) notices some visual anomalies in his pictures, and decides to investigate on his own, closely questioning bondage specialist Devinity (the lovely Melissa Pursley, who resembles a glammed-up Lili Taylor as voiced by Night Court's Selma Diamond) and discussing the ins and outs of the bondage fetish scene. Can he juggle a possible new girlfriend and a potential lifestyle reorientation with a horde of bloodthirsty, slavering invisible imps determined to keep him quiet at all costs? Though the subject matter makes things a little ridiculous (the bondage, not the gnomes, which should tell you a few sad somethings about the reviewer), Blood Gnome is actually quite an entertaining experience with bits of cleverness here and there keeping the story interesting (as does, of course, the generous nudity on display)--I was particularly fond of the near-abusive relationship Dan has with his boss Laura (Laurie Jamieson), who seems to be under the impression that she's his mother or older sister. At times it seems like half a horror thriller and half a BDSM instructional video, but the leads' sympathetic if occasionally erratic performances actually raise it above what I was expecting. Pursley in particular made me wonder, even given the uncertain climate in which movies like Blood Gnome are probably made, why she wasn't in anything else (maybe I just haven't looked hard enough). The (clean-shaven and capless) gnomes themselves are puppets, not CGI, an automatic plus (reminiscent in some ways of the tykes from Rock 'N' Roll Nightmare), and enough of their backstory is revealed to make things fairly comprehensible, even if things still remain vague at an admittedly ridiculous climax. All in all, Blood Gnome is an appealing example of how entertaining horror cheapies still have a place in this grotesque modern cinema of perpetual remakes and unimaginative big-budget knockoffs.

Planetfall (2005): It was a revelation; of all the cheap, unknown speculative films I've found through Netflix, Planetfall was by far the most imaginative, ambitious, and entertaining so far. The reviews were mixed, which intrigued me; often, if something doesn't look like it has the budget of Transformers or G.I.Joe (Jesus, what is it, 1984?), it'll get panned on IMDB and Netflix, but enough people were willing to see unexpected pleasures in this one that it sharpened my curiosity. Written by Michael Heagle and Matt Saari and directed by Heagle, it's a spaghetti western in space, to put it simply. Beautiful, mysterious gunfighter Lux Antigone (Heidi Fellner) warily faces down her equally winsome opponent Wendy (Leitha Matz) across an interplanetary landscape of fanatic religions, decaying imperialisms, and thoroughly corroded loyalties. Everyone's searching for a mysterious superweapon hidden on a barren planet, from the gunfighters to hardbitten mercenaries to renegade telepaths to the bottom-of-the-barrel conscripts in service to President Arch Stanton (sleaze icon Ted V. Mikels, on whom I have little personal opinion but whose casting was apparently considered a coup by the producers).** It's hard to quite describe the plot, as it's largely one huge run-around spiced up by treachery, gunplay, humor and sex. Out of many fun moments, my favorite probably came from an argument between mercenary Stark Sterling (played by Snype Myers, who's apparently some kind of award-winning physical trainer) and an angry superior. It's really an aesthetic crime that "consider yourself crossed, bitch!" isn't a nationally recognized catchphrase by now--and the best part wasn't even the phrase but the superior's deliciously over-the-top reaction. There are some cheesy computer and CGI effects, but just as many clever ones, and they all go towards making the thing feel larger and more expansive than it otherwise might. Another great thing about Planetfall is how seriously everyone concentrates on the little background touches, from the money and religion used to grease society's wheels to the frequency of popular interplanetary TV show "Bastard and Commando" (the snippets of dialogue heard--especially from "Channer"--are hilarious). In the end, everyone comes together for one grand confrontation which aimed at the mythic grandeur of its original inspirations--and they all get points for trying. Again, much of Planetfall's charm comes from the obvious care and pleasure everyone took in making it--the scruffy low-budget appeal is something that can't be duplicated.*** Best of all is Leitha Matz, for whom I instantly swooned and who's not only the star of the movie but also of the commentary track. So much of Planetfall is a pleasant surprise, but her low-key cool and unassuming beauty really put the thing over the edge (and she apparently fights the good fight, too). An exhaustive behind-the-scenes documentary gives the rundown on how it all came together, concluding with some endearing scenes from the Minnesota premiere--ironically enough, the same stomping grounds of Mystery Science Theater 3000.

Not too long ago, I would have dismissed both of these as "bad" movies, probably citing their budget and straight-to-video status (despite Planetfall's theatrical premiere). Now, I'm happy to say, my changed attitude towards artistic endeavor in general--writing, music, cinema--has opened my eyes to the good in films like these, and the possibilities they embody (yes, even Blood Gnome). With small presses sprouting up as fast as they die off, local musicians and performers making word-of-mouth and the internet work for them, and small filmmakers carrying on their work despite the sneers of those with bigger budgets or studio backing, I'm optimistic for my own work and that of others probably like never before.

 *Available on Netflix? The Gnome-Mobile, a 1967 Disney curio starring Walter Brennan (!!!) as a Snuffy Smith-voiced coot who, along with the tots from Mary Poppins, tries to save a patch of wilderness from greedy developers with some "special help," if you know what I'm saying. Unavailable on Netflix? 1990's A Gnome Named Gnorm, starring Anthony Michael Hall as a streetwise cop trying to track down his partner's killers with some "special help," if you know what I'm saying (also starring Jerry Orbach and frequent Mystery Science Theater actor Robert Z'Dar).

**One's own blog offers a great opportunity to bloviate about one's pet peeves. If you're making a spaghetti western, not only set in space, but also with characters that roughly correspond to the three main characters in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly... you no longer have to try and convince me that you've seen said film. "Arch Stanton," fans will remember, was the name on the tombstone hiding Bill Carson's money. Invent your own names. Simply because high-profile directors like Martin Scorsese and Joe Dante pull this crap doesn't mean you have to as well. I remember reading a zombie piece in The Second BHF Book of Horror Stories that was nearly ruined for me by one of the characters' being named "George Romero." Of course you like zombie films, because you're writing about them (or zombies, anyway)!!!

***A few Netflix reviewers compared Planetfall to "Dr. Who-type TV shows," perhaps aware of the film's Who connection (which came as a complete surprise to me). John Levene, who played Sergeant Benton on the show during the late 60s and early 70s, and who's now a showbiz entity of some sort in California (his films as "Reverend Bernie Shanks" sound absolutely hilarious but sadly there's no sign of CanniBallistic! or Satan Hates You on Netflix... yet) voices "Angry Videophone Alien." Beautiful.