Sitting in front of the fire watching crap.

My home Con was cancelled this weekend (not that I was going anyway because they were being mask-Nazis, but I was going to go hang out in town enjoying myself while the rest of the fam went) and then got some nasty don’t-go-outside weather, so a good weekend for movies here.


Had some friends over part of yesterday who are young enough that Bad Movies are Sci-Fi originals *sigh* so I introduced them to the joys of The Apple which is what you get when you throw the Eurovision Song Contest, Grease, and the book of Revelation into a blender, then strain through the sensibilities of a pair of Israeli producers who are about to start making beaucoup bucks off movies whose main common thread is stuff-blows-up-real good. It’s as subtle in its allegory as a kick in the teeth from Chuck Norris, and a hell of a lot of very weird (yet well costumed and choreographed) fun if you’re in the right mindset.


Since I couldn’t find my DVD of the above, I had to sign up for a 7 day trial of Epix, which turns out to have an amazing collection of schlock. Not likely to subscribe long term, but could see paying for a month periodically. That gave me the chance to finally get around to Dwayne Esper’s companion piece to Reefer Madness, Marihuana, Weed With Roots in Hell. Actually I thought I’d already seen that one before, but apparently not. The sordid story of a good girl, who gets knocked up at a party after smoking the devil’s weed and has a long fall to become “The Ice Queen of the Snow Peddlers”. Has a twist ending you’ve seen coming since the end of the second reel.


Also found a 1977 TV movie rip-off of Carrie called The Spell which I’d never even heard of, about a girl who, under the tutelage of her evil gym teacher, starts causing fatal “accidents” with her new-found psychic/supernatural powers. I figured out the twist ending of this one too, although it was from a subtle costuming clue vs. being telegraphed by the script. Hubby missed it for what that’s worth.


The writer insists that he wrote his script before Carrie, but the opening scene is the young woman being abused by her gym class mates, and ends with her throwing knives telekinetically across the kitchen in an attempt to murder her mother, so I call shenanigans. I will say that The Spell‘s Rita owes more to the Carrie of the book than Sissy Spacek, slightly overweight (although the script treats her as if she is grossly obese), acne prone, and frankly unlikable enough that even though you recognize that bullying is always wrong, you get why the other kids bully her, and it’s not the extra 10 pounds of puppy fat she is arguably carrying around her middle. Also features a pubescent Helen Hunt in a much juicier role than in her appearance in Rollercoaster later the same year.

This morning was noodling around on Amazon and came across a British show called Truth Seekers about a broadband installer by day and paranormal investigator by night who gets involved in something that I thing would be best described as some sort of technomancy rather than straight psychic phenomenon. Billed as a comedy, but leans hard on the horror side. Great cast, Nick Frost stars, which means Simon Pegg isn’t far off with a small role as his boss. But the absolute hands down scene stealer is Malcolm McDowell as Frost’s crotchety, pants hating, YouTube obsessed dad who has just gotten in well over his head as of the end of episode 5, I’ll probably finish the season tomorrow.

Also on Epix, re-watched Moon of the Wolf which, due to the limitations of 70’s TV movie budgets, is a murder mystery for at least 80% of its running time before briefly become a tragic werewolf story. At least the ending is less dark than that of Werewolf of Washington, the other notable entry into the made for TV werewolf flick during the period.

So what’s up with everyone else? Any crazy bad stuff you can recommend to me?

PS. Forgot that I also watched Devil Girl From Mars although since I dozed off 15 minutes in, then had a sleep terror that scared the poor ginger cat sleeping in my lap so bad he may never come near me again, I’m not sure that counts!

Questions? Comments? Want to tell me why I'm wrong? Have at it below.

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