Famed "Mother" crooner and former ex-lead-singer of the Misfits Glenn Danzig has finally directed his first film, and of course it's a horror anthology. The movie's called Verotika, and while I'm slightly disappointed he didn't name it Die Die My Darling, this absolutely bonkers minute-long trailer makes up for it.
The trailer doesn't really tell you what the moviesÂ about, per se, but it definitely gives you some gorey, self-indulgent, eerily terrifying B-movie vibesâthough whether it'sÂ genuinely terrifying, or justÂ terrifyingly bad, well, the reviews so far lean towards the latter. Alex McLevy at the AV Club caught the film last summer at the Cinepocalypse Film Festival in Chicago, and his review is a work of art in and of itself:
Within the first 60 seconds, a narrator pokes out a womanâs eyes with her fingers, and it works all too well as a metaphor for what this movie puts the audience through.
This wasnât quite the willful misunderstanding of a Tommy Wiseau, but it wasnât far off.
Glenn Dan-zigged where he should have Dan-zagged, and for that we should all be profoundly grateful.
Verotika will be available on Vimeo on-demand starting February 25, with a 3-disc collectorâs set to follow in March. Read the rest
Matt Davies, a foley artist and sound designer for Studio Unknown, is a master of the slurping, squishy, groaning, gross sounds of horror movies. Zombies are his specialty.
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Inspired by the 50th anniversary this month of the release of Rosemary's Baby, my friend Peg Kay Aloi has written a piece on Crooked Marque on how the iconic occult horror film helped set the stage for the Satanic panic that was to follow.
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And therein lies an unusual irony: The clear message of Rosemary’s Baby was that the devil-worshiping witches live right next door, on the other side of the wall of your charming flat on Central Park West. They’re like family: They act as surrogate parents by giving you healthy herbal drinks and silver pendants to protect you, but they’re actually planning to consecrate your baby to the devil. Even your doctor is in on it; heck, your own husband signed his firstborn over to Beelzebub so he could get a juicy part on Broadway! You try to convince people of the plot you’ve uncovered, but they just cluck their tongues (poor thing, you’re just exhausted) and tranquilize you. Even when you’re proven right, that they were there all along, the witches next door who contrived to make you give birth to Satan’s spawn, no one helps you.
Despite overwhelming evidence that most acts of violence against children are perpetrated by family members, the tendency is to look beyond the home, to suspect a shadowy outsider, someone with a taste for heavy metal music and black T-shirts, or a penchant for goddess worship and tarot cards. Rosemary’s Baby masterfully other-ized the evil that lies within (and without), making us hide our children away from any and all possible dangers, including public schools, the internet, the outdoors.