After the success of Mary Lambert’s adaptation of Stephen King’s “Pet Sematary,” Paramount sought out to deliver a sequel, despite the original leaving no room for one. Every single character died in the first movie, and no one is really the wiser about the whole zombie shenanigans that ensued in the climax. Lo and behold though, Paramount delivers on a sequel that centers on a whole new series of characters, all of whom are somehow obsessed with the mythical Native American burial ground tucked behind a seemingly harmless Pet Sematary.
Man, Evie and Rick O’Connell have to be two of the most incompetent movie heroes ever conceived. Not only do they bring the mummy to life in the first movie, but in the opening of the second film, they desecrate a tomb, and steal a sacred bracelet that their snot nosed son slips on. Even worse, their son is kidnapped, and said bracelet is going to kill him in a week if he doesn’t find a mythical oasis. There’s a big difference between being an average Joe adventurer like Indiana Jones, and a bungling nincompoop like the O’Connell’s. Seriously, is it so hard to watch one child? And if you’re handling priceless artifacts that are absolutely irreplaceable, why entrust it to an eight year old kid?
Stephen Sommers’ ridiculously successful reboot of “The Mummy” is a film that almost gets the formula correct. It’s like a cocktail of action, comedy, romance, horror, and adventure that almost becomes the perfect marriage of sub-genres, but never quite hits the mark; even when it’s at its best. “The Mummy” is incredibly uneven and tough to really respond to, because Sommers seems to want to opt for action, while Universal seems anxious to embrace the horror. Thus it’s all so unbalanced and drags down an action horror comedy hybrid with potential to be a classic.
While Mary Lambert’s “Pet Sematary” was nothing but a melodramatic exercise in tedium that put the actual center of the film in the background in favor of endless moaning and groaning about inept parents, her follow-up puts the sematary front and center. And still pretty much misses the point of it all. The 1992 follow-up is ugly, mean-spirited and still lacks any dread or menace to it. Not to mention there’s an immense focus on animal cruelty that’s often tough to sit through. In the end, it also fails to recognize the lure of the sematary and why these idiots continue bringing their loved ones to it to revive the dead. Once again the sematary is still there.
I remember watching a horror documentary about Dracula, and I forget who exactly said it, but during a screening of Frank Langella’s “Dracula,” two women in the audience admitted that they would completely allow Langella’s Dracula to take them with him and turn them, if they could just spend the night with him. In spite of the inherent attraction and allure of the vampires, men also have those female figures in horror that we wouldn’t mind spending the night with, even if it meant sacrificing our very lives, skin, blood, or brains. For the very reason those women would have given themselves to Dracula is the reason why many men would submit themselves to certain horror femmes. In spite of suffering a slow and possibly painful death, you’re almost guaranteed a night of head exploding, heart rupturing, love making that will leaving you a withered, soulless, but wide grinning corpse. To add to the endless hordes of horror geeks who’d offer themselves up to hot horror figures of the opposite sex, we list ten horror femmes we’d risk our very essence to spend one long night with.
Acrophobia, Nictophobia, Mysophobia, and Kinemortophobia. These are my primary phobias that plague me day in and day out. But… mainly that last one has been a nagging more insane but very troublesome phobia that has grabbed on to me since I was old enough to walk and hasn’t let go. Kinemortophobia (or Ambulothanatophobia) can be described as fear of the undead, or more importantly fear of the walking dead. Sure to some of you, it may sound idiotic and something to laugh at, but when you’re a little kid trying to sleep unable to go five minutes without looking behind you or sleeping near the edge of your bed, it’s not funny. And it’s quite traumatic. No, this is not meant to be a satirical article, this is quite real to me. I simply can not explain it. I’ve tried to figure out why since I was a child, but I simply can not explain it. I have a fear of zombies. Not vampires, or mummies, or anything else undead, but specifically zombies. The walking dead, the brain munching, gut gnawing, glazed over, staggering, shambling, moaning, groaning, mobile, green skinned, mouths agape, oozing, bleeding, rotting monsters that have become so absolutely prevalent in modern death obsessed pop culture.
Imagine if Dr. Seuss combined genius with Edgar Allan Poe, with Tim Burton bouncing ideas off of them, and what do you get? Well, if you’re lucky you’d get Evelyn, the cutest evil dead girl, a demented fairytale with the mood and color you never get in films anymore, the mood and color that’s missing from the horror genre today. Many call this basically a rip from “Lenore the Living Dead Girl” comic book, and perhaps that’s true, but “Evelyn” is such a sick and demented short film I had so much fun watching that I didn’t really care.