observation notes: Jolly Roger - Massacre at Cutter's Cove

Arrgh is right.

This fright of a film begins when a group of typically-hornball, beer-guzzling young folk goes coast-camping right after a hurricane. Amidst their nocturnal romps, a weathered treasure chest is discovered washed ashore by the storm, but when it is opened, it's not a treasure they discover inside, rather quite the opposite: the cursed spirit of a demonic pirate with a not-so demonic name - Jolly Roger. Jolly manages to slaughter the majority of the young folk, but the sole survivors, bad-boy Alex and good-girl Jessie (Tom Nagel and Kristina Korn, respectively), try to warn local law enforcement (Kim Little and Tom Downey) of this soggy, supernatural threat, but, of course, no one believes a bunch of kids, so the pirate goes about his mission of bloody vengeance as our teen heroes attempt to unravel the mystery around what exactly conjured Jolly Roger, what exactly he wants, and how exactly to send his damned soul back to Hell.

And oh, that we could go with him.

No, now, it's not that bad, really. It's bad, for sure, but not worth eternal damnation just to avoid. The performances, for the most part, are strong. The two standouts in the cast are two of the most-regulars, Tom Nagel (Beast of Bray Road, Pirates of Treasure Island, The Apocalypse, Hillside Cannibals, Dracula's Curse) as young, troubled Alex and Kim Little (Killers, Killers 2, Supercroc, War of the Worlds, War of the Worlds 2, Countdown: Jerusalem) as Lowenstein, the female officer in town. Nagel comes across a lot like James Marshall's "James" from "Twin Peaks:" the good guy with a tough past that resulted in an infraction of the law that wasn't totally his fault but now has him pegged as a no-good troublemaker despite his sensitive, kind and well-meaning center. Nagel crafts a hardened and world-wise if not world-weary young man well worth rooting for. And as far as Ms. Little is concerned, still in her ginger phase here, she assumes a sort of Scully-esque demeanor, both physically - in her oversized, androgynous, non-fitted suits - and emotionally - she projects a superficially cold and professionally distant demeanor that masks a soft core, a real, trusting, emotional center, and it is this center that elevates Ms. Little's supporting performance above mere supporting recognition. 

The rest of the cast, they do all right: Kristina Korn does an amazing job, but only if she's supposed to be playing the role as a self-centered, obstinately-naive, over-educated bitch; if not...She comes in late on most of her cues, and her overall emotional state seems to be one of weepy inconvenience rather than actual, unbridled fear for her life. Despite all this, however, she is a good pairing with Nagel's over-compensating milquetoast Alex. Tom Downey (a 13-film Asylum vet, including Beast of Bray Road, King of the Lost World and upcoming Ballistica) as Mathis is a great addition to the cast, but he's woefully underused in this one-dimensional character. Nice use of regular faces in bit parts though, including Griff Furst as a warehouse landlord, Leigh Scott as a strip club owner, and, in a spot that nearly steals the show, Amanda Barton as a rockin' secretary. And then there's Rhett Giles, the great Rhett Giles, hero of so many Asylum films, a great actor and a charming fellow by all accounts - but even someone as talented as Rhett Giles could not make the character of Jolly Roger anything more than a bad joke.


I blame this on FX and script, honestly. Mr. Giles does his best - but for the accent, I'm not letting him escape that one - but the conceit of the pirate is just so incredibly cheesy, from his outfit to the crud all over his face to his dialog to the situations in which he finds himself, that there was never much of a chance audiences would take him seriously. I mean, it says something, to me at least, that every character in the film who comes in contact with Jolly, their first impulse is to think he's some douchebag in a costume (though I do have to give one bit of positive feedback at this juncture: I loved how old Jolly just walked around seeking his vengeance in his waterlogged pantaloons in broad daylight, often in public places, without giving the slightest hint of a fuck. That's some swashbuckling badass-ness right there.). And it's this failure to convince that kinda brings down the whole film. I mean, the concept is pretty neat, a little Scooby-Doo, but still ripe with potential. However, the screenwriter's attempts to realize this potential are at best half-cocked and at worst, laughable. Jolly ends up in a strip club, for fuck's sake, and not ironically; he's just there, killing strippers. Every time the pirate was off-screen, I thought this had the makings of an inventive, intense horror film. Every time the pirate was on-screen, he just ruined it, and no matter how great an actor was behind the crud, the crud was all that showed.


Every spectrum needs its parameters, two opposite ends by which everything in-between is defined, evaluated. If then, one end of the spectrum of Asylum films are my personal favorites like I Am Omega, Mega Python vs Gatoroid, Beast Of Bray Road and 2010 Moby Dick, then waaaaaaaay down at the other end of the spectrum there's a dark, dank, quiet and depressing hole in which I mentally filed Jolly Roger: Massacre at Cutter's Cove.


And I'll say it again, because despite it's own inherit cheesiness, it bears repeating: arrrrrrrgh.

outside the walls: Non-Asylum Inklings

I recognize that not all great films are made exclusively by The Asylum and that, in fact, there's a whole world of film outside these walls, some of which might actually interest Asylum fans, when they're not watching or re-watching Asylum films, of course. And, being as I'm only looking out for your viewing well-being, here's a peek at some other DVD releases this month which might satiate you between Asylum releases. But remember, as always. Sweet n' Low ain't sugar.


Feb. 1

 Chain Letter

 Hatchet II

 Let Me In

 Monsters

 Lorna the Exorcist

Quantum Apocalypse
written by Leigh Scott
directed by Justin Jones
starring Rhett Giles, Kristen Quintrall 










Feb. 8

 I Spit on Your Grave

 My Soul to Take

 Ong Bak 3

 Paranormal Activity 2

 Tesis Special Edition













Feb. 15

 Death Tube 2

The Last Lovecraft: Relic of Cthulhu









National Lampoon's Dirty Movie

Feb. 22

The 7th Hunt

 Alien vs Ninja

 The Guild - Season 4

 The Killing Jar

 Psych 9

Sounds Like an Asylum Movie to Me

So, the above image was captured by the Hubble telescope last week, and is assumed to be a green cloud of gas illuminated by a quasar that blinked out of existence some 200,000 years ago. 

The object, given the catchy moniker Hanny's Voorwerp (which sounds more like a top-shelf expenditure in Amsterdam's Red Light District than an astronomical anomaly), is said to be the size of our own Milky Way galaxy, and composed of a 300,000 light-year-long stream of gas. The glowing part is supposedly oxygen, and this nebulous nebula is, by current calculations, 650 million light years from our peaceful planet. So even if it was dangerous - which officials insist it is not - it wouldn't reach Earth for several, several, several lifetimes.

Yeah right.

That's exactly what they would say, isn't it? Of course it's just gas, of course it's harmless, of course it's too far away to be dangerous. Let me pose a question: if this thing's moving so slow, where was it the day before you discovered it? It's green and glowing and 300 thousand light-years long, not exactly the kind of thing that creeps up on you. For all we know, this thing leaps light-years like lily pads and it's just resting up between jumps.  

And maybe I'm being paranoid, maybe I've been influenced by too many science-fiction films, but since when is a glowing green cloud from deep space the size of our galaxy not considered dangerous? Nothing the size of our galaxy is harmless. Blue whales are supposed to be docile things as well; try dropping one on your house. Docile or not, big shit causes damage. 

from www.longhousestudios.com

Of course it's coming for us, this strange radiation cloud, this cosmic dragon that as we pass through it will incinerate everything that crosses its green, glowing line, unless a team of crack scientists can find a way to reflect or some other way thwart the cloud from causing the whole planet to combust. 

And every team needs a leader, preferably a bit of a maverick, a brilliant and well-educated, vastly-experienced rogue who plays by his own rules, isn't afraid to take a risk, and in the end cares more about survival and discovery than fame and fortune. Ooh, ooh, and his ex-wife should be involved. James Van Der Beek and Kristen Miller were born to play these roles, born I say!

Round out the team with a couple of technicians/specialists, roles for folks like Kim Little, Jude Gerard-Prest, Jay Gillespie, Erica Duke, that sort of crew, and maybe even a two-man astronaut crew, valiant martyrs for the greater good, played by Rhett Giles and Griff Furst, just for old time's sake.

Stranger films have been made, but not much stranger things have been discovered.

Sounds Like An Asylum Movie to Me

From the taxidermy bird production of Matrix Reloaded

I don't know if you guys have been checking the news out this past week, but there've been some pretty weird goings-on going on, the sort of stuff that would make Charles Fort, god rest his soul, sit up and take notice. Check this out:

• December 31st, Arkansas - thousands of red-winged blackbirds are reported to fall dead from the sky over an area roughly a square mile. No diseases are found, no toxins, only blunt force trauma as though the entire flock was started at once and flew madly into one another. Officials speculate fireworks frightened the birds.

• January 1- 5th, Brazil - 100 tons of dead fish wash ashore. As of yet, no cause has been determined.

• January 3rd, Louisiana - 500 red-winged blackbirds, starlings and sparrows are found dead on the side of the highway. No fireworks are suspected.

• January 3rd - 5th, England - 40,000 - that's not a mistype, 40,000 - small crabs wash onto the shore of the English coast, all of 'em dead. Officials suspect cold weather is the culprit. 

• January 5th, Maryland - 2 million fish go belly-up, mostly small guys but, still, 2 million of them. Again cold weather is the supposed culprit, as previous cases can be cited in the same area from 1976 and 1980. 

• January 5th, Sweden - hundreds of dead birds fall from the sky. As in Arkansas, blunt force trauma from "external blows" killed the bids. Once again they are found to be free of disease or toxin. Just beaten to death. 

•  January 5th, Kentucky - hundreds of grackles, red-winged blackbirds, robins and starlings fall dead from the sky, again disease-free and non-poisoned.

Pretty weird, right? I mean, when you put it all together, this stuff is just a couple former teen-idols short of a Saturday night on SyFy. But does it really signify the beginning of the end, the first tremors of the fabled apocalypse? Probably not. Shit, even Kirk Cameron doesn't really think so. Most likely this kind of shit goes on all the time and we just don't notice it, kinda like how you never notice how many Volkswagens there are on the road until you play punch-buggy. The only ones who should be truly nervous about these events are red-winged blackbirds; someone's really got it out for those guys.


But you see what I mean? This one could go anywhere: it could be a religious-themed end-of-days epic, a Hitchcockian creature feature about a war between birds, an eco-terror thriller, metaphysical horror, paranoid psycho-drama, bad porn, anything! Five bucks says even if it isn't The Asylum who makes this movie (and it probably won't be), you'll still see a Bird Rain or some similar shit pop up on DVD by year's end.


I'm just hoping it stars Kirk Cameron. Ooh, and whichever Baldwin got himself born again.

observation notes: Legion of the Dead

It's a modern-day mummy scare courtesy of writer/director and Asylum executive Paul Bales.

When daredevil weekend motocross-ers in California stumble (crash) upon an Egyptian tomb (?), they accidentally unleash an ancient evil whose bloodlust has been lying dormant too long. This brings in university Egyptologist Zach Galligan (Gremlins) and his team of student archaeologists, including the requisite bespectacled hottie (Courtney Clonch) who's had the requisite drunken fling with her professor and now it's awkward as shit, but the education must go on, so here she is. Before the excavation can even get in full swing, however, there's already a confrontation with the local law enforcement (Bruce Boxleitner) and the mysteriously authoritative coroner (Andy Lauer) over issues of safety. Ominously, and foolishly, ZG dismisses their concerns, decreeing that all will be well (It most certainly will not).

Down in the tomb, the university team is joined by an Indiana-Jones style adventurer/academic of either French, German or British decent, I couldn't tell by the accent, oddly enough, and embodied by the capable form of Rhett Giles, who not only is able to disarm millennia-old booby traps, but also offer some bizarre yet I'm sure plausibly-anchored in historical fact explanation as to why there'd be an Egyptian tomb on the West Coast of the United States. I'll admit to being slightly buzzed at this point so not entirely following this logic, but the students on screen seemed to fall for it, and it's their field, so, who am I to doubt?

Hieroglyphics in the tomb spell out certain death but still our intrepid university-team foolishly continues to poke and prod about recklessly, even going so far as to open a mummy's coffin.  Now, I'm no Egyptologist, obviously, but I'm pretty sure if there was a rule book for such a thing, a guide of basic do's and don'ts handed out to every freshman Egyptology major, rule one on page one would read in big fucking bold, block letters: NEVER OPEN THE COFFIN. Or maybe that's just me.


So while this curse is unfurling, as if it wasn't enough, we get the first flares of in-team tension. Seems ZG is pleased with the drunken sexual encounter between he and the bespectacled hottie last year, but she isn't, and furthermore, who's even less pleased is the fella, also on the team, who's been trying to win her heart, let alone her loins, for some time now but she just keeps pushing him away, while pulling others closer. Essentially, this chick's boned too many dudes on this small team, and egos are colliding. And a danger such as this, a danger of the heart, can be the most perilous of all. Until the mummy awakes, of course, and then who gives a fuck about feelings?


And awake the mummy is, thanks to four-eyes' aloud-translation of the hieroglyphics, and, surprise of surprises, the mummy manifests as an eve hotter hottie (Claudia Lynx) with a penchant for walking around butt-ass naked and sucking your...wait for it...lifeforce (sorry) with her touch. A couple of souls in her system and our hottie mummy, now all alert and potent, sets out into the modern world, where she runs into the other hottie, the student, who - thinking our naked killer mummy some poor, disoriented naked foreigner - is nice enough to dress her in a shirt that shows plenty of her midriff. The mummy then uses the human hottie as a beard that she might infiltrate the Egyptoligists and unfurl her centuries-old plan of revenge (only Rhett Giles knows the mummy is a mummy, but this is no good, as he's on her side. D'oh!)


From here there be spoilers, ye be warned - but before its over there's a lot more dead and even more long-dead alive again, if that makes any sense. 

Overall, I found Legion of the Dead to be a fun scare, more heavy on gore than frights, but thanks to great FX and a solid script that kept its science light and the horror out front, balancing levity, historical accuracy, archaeological authenticity, thrills, chills and boobs like a master plate spinner. Helping this balance is an array of solid performances from the cast. ZG hasn't aged a day by the looks of things, no matter how big of a beard you put on him. And try as he might, he isn't as convincing as I would have liked at being the sleaze-ball, coed-preying university scalliwag, but he plays pathetic well, so when his character takes a turn in that direction, he really comes alive. Then, unfortunately, he really comes the opposite. Brief role for Zach, here. Also briefly on-screen is the other name, Bruce B, who as the sheriff has even less screen time than Zach. What lines he does have he reads as softly stern and likably authoritative. Feels like Greg Evigan in 6 Guns, he's on the box to get your attention, but the brunt of the action doesn't fall anywhere near him.

Of the two girls, Courtney the student hottie has the bigger role, which she plays as simultaneously capable and naive, a little doe-eyed but  intelligent, so not helpless. She was a lot of fun to watch, mostly because of her talent, but a little to do with that cut-off-collar sweatshirt she rocked for most of the film. I'm a sucker for off-duty-librarian-chic (you'll know what I mean if you need to). Claudia, our Egyptian minx, played her role of royalty as just that: poised, severe, breathtakingly beautiful, and all while frequently naked, to boot, so ascending to a whole new level of the aforementioned traits.


Writer/Director Paul Bales has written several other Asylum films, but to date this is his only trip behind the camera. The tricks of light and sound and tremors of camerawork he employs, along with his script, help to make this one more than a mere low-budget modern-day mummy flick, and instead a grade-A historical horror film that never takes itself too seriously, while never letting itself grown too light. 

Pretty damn good time, if you ask me.

observation notes: The Apocalypse

Another from The Asylum's Faith Films subdivision, and one of three religious-based global-catastrophe spectacles - along with Meteor Apocalypse and 2012: Doomsday - The Apocalypse is, generally speaking, the story of one family's attempt to survive - physically and spiritually - the widespread chaos referenced by the title. And be certain, "apocalypse" here isn't some catch-all, rote end-of-the-world scenario; it's the full-on, soul-shattering brouhaha that makes Revelations easily the most popular book in the Bible.

Our film opens with a group of campers - among them cameos by Sarah Lieving and Leigh Scott - enjoying campfire conversation beneath a sky beautifully streaked with shooting stars. By "shooting stars," of course, I mean "meteorites," one of them fuc-, sorry, bleeping huge and heralded by a barrage of smaller projectiles that fall from the sky and rip this bucolic scene and its inhabitants to shreds. Thus the apocalypse begins.

Cut to a rugged park ranger (Rhett Giles) on the scene of a massive housefire. While he and his partner are stumped, we know it was a rain of hot rocks from the sky that torched the home. Soon enough they'll know it too: on the drive back to town, they discover said town has been eradicated, turned into a mass of molten rubble, courtesy of the heavens. Panicked now, it is revealed that RG has a daughter (Kristen Quintrall) he hasn't spoken to in quite a while living in Los Angeles; when the end is finally nigh, grudges and bygones are the first things to go.


Cut to said daughter, playfully frolicking with her boyfriend (Tom Nagel) while the world outside, unbeknown to them, is going to utter shit....sorry..."crap." This blissfully ignorant moment soon passes, however, when a roommate of the daughter (she has three, one of whom, not this one, is played by Erica Roby) calls them out to witness news footage of the widespread damage. The daughter freaks because the epicenter of the damage, Big Sur, is near where her mom, RG's ex (Jill Stapely), now resides. She's ready to run out the door into the heart of the devastation when a convenient phonecall comes from her mom: she's okay, she's coming to L.A., stay put til she gets there. It's at this point, maybe thirteen minutes in, that we get the first direct reference to God, made by another of the daughter's roommates, (still not Roby, but Shaley Scott, who may be related to Leigh Scott, as all four films she's acted in have been his) in reference to the entity with whom those lost in the day's holocaust now reside. This opinion is quickly shot down by the daughter, who seems a little too defensive to be idly philosophizing. But more on this to come.


Back to RG, who's watching the news, trying to get some idea of what's going on where. There's no big scientific explanation here, no scenes full of techno-garble, only raw data: a massive meteorite has shattered nearby and its shards are battering the planet, not just in California but everywhere in the country, in the world. At this point the Ex pops in on her way to see the daughter, finds RG and his partner amidst these startling discoveries. Well, she's got one more for them: this isn't going to be the only barrage, there's another meteorite coming, bigger, "the size of Texas" (aren' t they always?) and thus much more destructive, "an extinction starter." Call it what you will, use as many colorful nicknames as you can, but make no bones about it: the world is ending, real quickly, too, so the Ex demands that RG puts his bullshit - dammit, dam- "malarkey" behind him and accompany her to see their daughter before it's too late. While RG is pensively mulling this over, his partner makes the decision for him, saying that he is leaving them to reunite with his estranged father. Somehow this is the final straw that snaps the camel's back of RG's hesitance, and he realizes that it's all real, that it's really happening - the end. Make your peace and smoke 'em if you got 'em.

Meanwhile, in L.A., the daughter further ups the religious content by taking her boyfriend to a nearby church, understandably overrun with the frightened faithful. Contrary to what I was expecting - any time someone bothers to make an overtly Christian film, I naturally expect a fair amount of persuasion - this scene is very non-judgmental, non-dogmatic, and instead of painting the Christian faith as a self-righteous, all-powerful judging force, it is depicted as being a communal spirit of comfort, something the faithful make to support each other, the best, truthfully, one can hope organized religion to be: flexible to the needs of its flock while providing a constant base of faith and hope for salvation, physical or spiritual. At least, this how I see the daughter sees it. The boyfriend, on the other hand, is still skeptical, pointing to the perspective of most contemporary young folk that it isn't particularly fashionable or "groovy" to be a practicing Christian. Ultimately, however, it seems this line of passive questioning has only been inserted to make the point to any watching youths with their own doubts that such things are necessary, and in fact planted by God to test our faith, and therefore are further, stronger proof of his existence. I think. Religious rhetoric, perhaps purposely, confuses me. They (the producers) are embracing the youth's ambiguous stance toward faith and turning it to faith's advantage, is what I mean, is what I think they mean. Or maybe I'm just analyzing out of my ass - sorry, "rear-end," parting seas inside puddles. Either way, on with the mayhem, which kicks into high gear here.

RG and the Ex are on the road to L.A. and their daughter, racing a mega meteor hell-bent on sending them all to heaven. This is when the actual Rapture begins. The Actual Rapture, people disappearing and stuff. From here the film becomes a battle between faith and tragedy, both overwhelming, and what The End means to each individual character - the regretful father, the faithful ex, the headstrong, independent daughter and fearful boyfriend - and how they rectify their lives in the face of certain death. Spoilers beyond, so I relent.

 Overall, I found this film to be powerful, chilling and painfully realistic in its depiction of modern society's reaction to such a cataclysm: the chaos that compiles into anarchy, the muddle of fear and faith and hope and despondency and love that would naturally accompany total global annihilation is present and palpable here, thanks to wonderful FX - decapitation by meteorite, dudes melting in lava, waterspouts, tornadoes, mass structural damage and explosions galore, all courtesy of Tiny Juggernaut - that were pretty brutal for a Christian film, a string-based soundtrack (that was the highlight of pretty splotchy sound editing, especially when it came to vocals vs. explosions) that eerily set the mood between dismal and righteous, and a taut script from David Michael Latt and Carlos de los Rios that is both powerful and provocative, religious without being overbearing, and presents logical questions I think most of us - regardless of religious background, if any - would ask ourselves in the face of certain, inescapable oblivion. And of course, all these elements are brought together and anchored into a cohesive story by the intense, claustrophobic - I mean that as a compliment - direction of Justin Jones (Invasion of the Pod People) and the startlingly authentic performances by the trio of actors that seem entirely submerged - mentally, emotionally, spiritually - in the final moments of all our lives. Rhett Giles (Frankenstein Reborn, Way of the Vampire) plays his regretful park ranger as skeptically concerned, viciously brooding, and the tense center of the film. As a contrast, Jill Stapely (nothing else of note) inhabits the role of his ex-wife with ruthless faith, making her the spiritual anchor of the film, the unwavering light. 

But the most powerful performance of a powerfully-performed film - one of the best-acted in The Asylum's filmography, I dare say - belongs to Kristen Quintrall, who, as the wavering candleflame between her parents' viewpoints, the balance between their beliefs, raised faithful but with independent questions of her own, serves to represent the rest of us, those of us lacking the certainty of either philosophical extreme and who would find ourselves in the face of such a trauma just plain scared. Quintrall is an emotional juggernaut in this film, showcasing some big-time chops that could make her a veritable star in the genre. Plus, oh yeah, she edited the film too, pretty well, I'll point out. So, yeah, what did you do today?


All in all, while I typically don't go in for the rhetoric of these things - I was raised religious in the rural South, so I've had a good helping of all that stuff and find myself, well, stuffed - I still found this to be an engaging, exciting, thought-provoking and eerily resonant film. 

And I got through this whole post without an R.E.M. quip. It might not sound like much to you, but I'm proud of myself.

977's Unsolicited yet Copyrighted Pitch #6: THE MYSTERY OF FLANNAN ISLES

So the backstory is this: in 1900, seemingly in the middle of a meal, all three lighthouse keepers manning the lonely lighthouse on Scotland's Flannan Isles mysteriously disappeared without a trace, leading to more than a century of paranormal speculation and rational investigation that has still yet to produce a suitable and satisfactory explanation of events. Using this historical anecdote as a jumping-off point, I humbly present the pitch for The Mystery of Flannan Isles: A Charles Fort Adventure.

We open with our three, ill-fated lighthouse keepers enjoying the above-mentioned meal. Outside the weather is frightful, a strong storm is blowing off the sea and bringing wind and rain and crashing waves against the Isles' stone cliffs. Suddenly a frightful sound is heard, a cry like screeching metal or something mammoth screaming. The keepers are startled and exit the lighthouse to investigate. At the west landing, they find significant structural damage to iron railings and wooden platforms, too high above sea level to have been caused by waves. Then the sound again, and - without seeing their assailant - we watch the three keepers picked off one by one by something whose appearance turns the expressions of the hardened men to those of terrified children. The men dead, the sound slinks away, the storm rages on unwatched.

Cut to Eastern Europe, a small village in a mountainous range, gypsy-inhabited but for two men, both dressed in the academic fashion of the day, both in their mid-thirties. They are Charles Fort, paranormal investigator, and his assistant, Stanley Pelkington (who I'm picturing being played by Rhett Giles and Jay Gillespie, respectively), and they are here to investigate some supernatural phenomena such as red rain or strange lights, any of the myriad phenomena detailed in "The Complete Books of Charles Fort," (an outstanding read) that serve to introduce the man and his particular field of study, as well as his assistant's rational, scientific, skeptical and Scully-esque counter-approach. As he is wrapping up his research, a cable comes from London informing him on the occurrence at Flannan Isles. His curiosity piqued, they leave at once.

Once in Flannan Isles, CF finds the locals not at all eager to share what they know about the disappearance, any other disappearances on the island or their suspicions as to the cause of the disappearance, almost as though they are guarding a secret for their own, superstitious curiosity. Every small town distrusts outsiders, especially rural citizens against a cosmopolitan denizen like CF, but they are especially distrustful when they are a centuries-old small community isolated from the rest of the world on a small chain of islands in the North Atlantic. So CF will find little help here. His first obstacle is Finn, the caretaker of the Flannan Isles Lighthouse and a former keeper himself, not returned to the job until the Northern Lighthouse Board can find a suitable, more permanent replacement. Finn won't give any details other than to stir CF's preternatural leanings by admonishing that there are some answers better left undiscovered, some things man wasn't meant to be able to understand, only fear and respect. 

CF begins to study his books on local lore and tests or researches the possibilities rational (washed away, murder/suicide, abducted by pirates) and irrational (ghost ship, sea serpent, fabled monster bird) but it isn't until he meets the daughter of one of the disappeared keepers, the lovely lass Siobhan (The 7 Adventures of Sinbad's Kelly O'Leary) that CF becomes convinced the disappearance wasn't a rational thing at all. Seems Siobhan's old man had reservations about taking the job in the first place because of rumors of a ghostly serpent taller than the isles who appears during great storms and tries to smash the island to bits with the fury of waves. This ghost-serpent is supposedly the reason the lighthouse was erected here centuries ago, at the utmost northwest corner of Scotland: to guard the UK against spectral invasion from the wild, unknown, ephemeral Arctic regions. When her dad turned up missing, Siobhan knew the serpent was somehow responsible. Armed with this new knowledge and teammate, CF and crew investigate the creature and - without giving away too many act two and three twists - discover the only way it can be vanquished is to confront it and capture it in a stone reputed to be it's eye hardened to gem once plucked from its head by the lance of a long-ago lighthouse keeper. So Fort must find this stone, then this serpent, then capture it face to face if he is to save the island from its supernatural threat.

The nice thing, I think, about this pitch is the franchise it opens. Charles Fort, as the link above attests, was a real dude, the so-called "inventor of the supernatural," and, cinematically speaking, a kind of Indiana Jones of the paranormal, a Sherlock Holmes of the otherworld. Fort's books provide dozens above dozens of launching-pads for the sort of steampunk paranormal amalgam we saw in Rachel Lee Goldenberg's Sherlock Holmes. In fact, she'd be a great choice to direct this flagship film. She could even co-write with me, if she wanted; I'm amiably collaborative like that.

I'm just sayin'.

observation notes: The 9/11 Commission Report

This one's a doozy. Based on the events and theories published in the official 9/11 Commission Report, writer/director/Asylum mainstay Leigh Scott crafted this multi-plot political thriller featuring virtually every star in the Asylum's universe. The names have been changed (looooooosely) to protect the, well, I'm not sure, but the names are a little different, probably a legal thing.


The film begins 28 days before the attacks with an obviously militant foreign man seeking 747 flight simulator training. He pays the six-grand fee in cash, American for "no questions asked," and, naturally, for that price they're willing to show him everything. But he's interested in "just flying." Uh-huh. They even let him pick a specific flight plan. 

Jump now to the District, fall of '98, with the handing down of an indictment for our Bin Laden character. This scene serves to inform us of something that - however we know or think of it - we already know, that our government knew about Bin Laden, knew what he was up to, knew what he was capable of and how he became capable of it, and knew his over-arcing plans. But now that there was this indictment, all we had to do was get him to trial. He's still years from being able to orchestrate terrorist plots of a catastrophic magnitude, so there's plenty of time, should be a piece of cake. Umm-hmm.

Jump even further back to Manila in 1995, where the Philippines' government is "interrogating" a suspected Middle Eastern terrorist. An American shows up to lend a hand - to the Philippine side of things - and pretso!, the fella's no longer suspected, he's a full-on terrorist, with secrets hinting at some sort of broad attack in-planning.

Jump yet again back to '98, but Pakistan now (where I got 47 hits the other week! thanks guys!), where members of a terrorist cell roll with the punches and think on their suspected feet.

2001 again (whew), flight training, our foreign guy has started to raise eyebrows with his line of rather blatant questioning about fuel payloads, geography, specific landmarks, and by only flying simulated routes to DC and New York, and even worrying aloud about how accurate the simulator is. At long last the FBI is called in, but things almost get further inept from there, as the best the agent can determine in an opening conversation with the foreign man is that he's from "the Middle East." "Where?" the agent follows up. "The Middle East," the man repeats - conversation over. Niiiiice.

Onward, or backward, I guess, to Israel in '98 where the special agent working to locate Bin Laden seeks out a reporter/lover with info on a man who has info on the location of Bin Laden. We follow the agent to Afghanistan and the meeting with this man. Dude's willing to take Bin Laden out for us, all the wetwork himself, he's practically begging to do it, dropping lines like, "New York, that's where they're going to strike next." It literally doesn't get any more literal than that. And this is the one issue I had with an otherwise interesting script, that it's a little too literal in spots with how obvious the signs may have been, but, admittedly, for all my ignorant ass knows, it was this obvious and I'm just being an uninformed, nit-picky jerk who should read his own links; the possibility exists.

These separate cogs continue to spin back and forth through time, closer and closer to the inevitable, tragic ending. There are no spoilers here, ultimately, but how the film arrives at its conclusion is intriguing enough - no matter how familiar you are with the facts/"facts" - to cause me invoke my ever-present "no spoilers" statute.

I've already called the film interesting and intriguing, and it is, both in and of itself, and for its position in the greater Asylum catalog. This film is not what I was expecting, I'll be honest; I was expecting some sensational, disaster-ridden, conspiracy-rich action-fest, and it's none of those things, and this is a good thing. Leigh Scott truly has crafted something unique here, something intimate and exhilarating, intense and thought-provoking. The timeline, disjointed as I've probably made it sound, was not disjointing to watch, and moved at a pace that kept every scene fresh and important, thanks primarily to the fact that this film's based on acting, not action, and for this one, as mentioned, everybody came out. 


Dig this lineup: Rhett Giles (Way of the Vampire, Frankenstein Reborn, War of the Worlds), Marat Glazer (Shapeshifter, Supercroc, Dracula's Curse), Sarah Lieving (Monster, The Beast of Bray Road, King of the Lost World), Jeff Denton (The Beast of Bray Road, King of the Lost World, The Hitchhiker), Griff Furst (Transmorphers, Alien Abduction, Exorcism: The Possession of Gail Bowers), Eliza Swenson (Transmorphers, Frankenstein Reborn, Dragon), AJ Castro (Snakes on a Train, The Da Vinci Treasure), Christina Rosenberg (The Beast of Bray Road, Dracula's Curse, King of the Lost World), Kim Little (Killers, Killers 2, War of the Worlds 2, Supercroc), Michael Tower (Invasion of the Pod People, The Apocalypse, 30,000 Leagues Under the Sea), Jason S. Gray (Universal Soldiers, AVH, The Da Vinci Treasure) and a delightful but brief cameo from Erica Roby (Invasion of the Pod People, The Hitchhiker, Exorcism: The Possession of Gail Bowers.) 

Whew. 


And everybody - I mean everybody - is acting above the bar, turning it on and delivering rock-solid performances. Jeff Denton? Awesome. Kim Little? Awesome. Sarah Lieving? Awesome. Rhett Giles? Awesome. Are you noticing a pattern here? Fuck yes you are, because they're all awesome. This is Leigh Scott's doing, weaving like directing greats Stanley Kramer and Robert Altman a complex, multi-layered and -perspective drama that never lags, never snags, and never gives in to the tempting pitfall of sensationalism, residing instead in the terse, stark and enthralling realm of historical thrillers.

Now, I realize this is a highly-charged and polarizing topic, so I won't dare wax philosophic one way or the other, but wherever you land in this debate - who knew what when, who could have stopped what, who actually did what - you have to give The Asylum credit for the balls it took to make this one. While Hollywood was kowtowing to vox populi rallying films like United 93, and the conspiracy "enthusiasts" were flooding the market with makeshift documentaries out to undermine anything official, The Asylum threaded the needle and dared to blend these perspectives and make a serious film about the serious doubts that exist in this most horrific of events. The result is a sweeping, epic film that becomes the most ambitious and serious production undertaken by The Asylum to date. It's a hardcore thriller and a globe-hopping adventure that's engaging, though-provoking, and proof positive that The Asylum knows the rules and knows how to play by them; most of the time, they just don't care. No "mock" or "tie-in" anything here, this film is the real deal, and a real winner.

Inmate Updates: Asylum Regulars' Other Work

Just as I have to admit there are films made by companies other than The Asylum, I also have to admit that some of our most notable inmates occasionally take work outside the walls. This is not a cause for concern, but rather a chance to broaden our horizons and see shark movies made by other people. So in that spirit, here's a quick scan of some upcoming non-Asylum projects by a few prominent members of the Asylum family:

Griff Furst (actor/director)

In addition to numerous acting gigs, Furst the director (100 Million B.C., I Am Omega, Universal Soldiers) has three projects of note coming up in the next year: there's Movin' In, a comedy co-starring the non-famous and less-annoying child actor from "Even Stevens", Maskerade, a horror film he co-wrote starring the 2001 Azalea Festival Queen, which might not means much to most of you, but to native North Carolinians like myself, it means the world, and a film that's already received mention in these virtual pages in the form of a trailer link, Swamp Shark.

Sarah Lieving (actress)

The most-frequent acting contributor to Asylum films has other work coming out soon in the wake of the destined-to-be-wildly-popular Mega Shark vs. Crocosaurus, most of which still manages to have an attachment in one way or another to The Asylum. First there's Super Shark, directed by B-movie great and father of MSvC director Christopher Ray, Fred Olen Ray; then there's a picture that, again, has had a mention or two among these pages, director Leigh Scott's fantasy spectacular Witches of Oz 3D, in which she plays the Wicked Witch of the East. This film will mark the eighth time Scott and Lieving have collaborated, the first six being Asylum Films. Lieving can also soon be seen in the indie musical Sunset Junction.

Geoff Meed (writer/actor)


Though IMDB currently has no listings for a Meed script in development, you can bet he's working on one or two and that notation will soon change. In the meantime, the Bo Jackson of The Asylum (still trying to make that catch on) can next be seen flexing his acting chops in a film I'm at least pretty hyped to see, Fast Five, the latest installment in the Fast and Furious franchise, where Geoff will be mean-mugging alongside some of the greats like Vin Diesel, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, Paul Walker and muthafuckin' Ludacris.

Rhett Giles (actor/producer)

Having just finished the sci-fi thriller Quantum Apocalypse for Justin Jones and Leigh Scott, Giles is stepping behind the scenes to produce the action-thriller Fight or Flight starring a few names familiar to Asylum fans: Judd Nelson (The Day the Earth Stopped), C. Thomas Howell (War of the Worlds, War of the Worlds 2, The Day the Earth Stopped) and Jason London, not the one in Terminators, but the one in Maskerade, directed by Griff Furst.




See what a small, small world it is?

observation notes: War of the Worlds

This is it, the one that started it all, the film that shifted The Asylum's focus from DVD horror toward the tie-in, or "mockbuster," market. For better or worse (better), this is where The Asylum began to become what we know (and love) today.

The plot here should be rhetorical, being that it's the most famous radio broadcast ever, the direct basis for two other big screen adaptations and, as the best-known and arguably first alien invasion story in the English language, the indirect basis for at least 65% of all sci-fi films ever made. So story then isn't the issue here; the issue becomes how The Asylum handles the story. And as was (or would be) the case in regards to Allan Quatermain and the Temple of Skulls and 30,000 Leagues Under the Sea, the fine folks at The Asylum aren't necessarily making a tie-in as much as they are their own adaptation of the same source material. And in this adaptation, H. G. Wells' narrative becomes a picaresque apocalypse story, kind of like The Road if we the audience had encountered these characters as the apocalypse was happening, not after it: one man(C. Thomas Howell, naturally)'s journey to find his family among unimaginable chaos, and the array of bizarre events and characters he encounters along the way. By setting the weight of the entire story of the sole shoulders of one character, the film becomes less an action-spectacular - though the action is indeed kinda spectacular - and more a philosophical characterization of the variations within the spectrum of human responses to global catastrophe.

And speaking of the catastrophe, by proxy the special effects, they weren't Tiny Juggernaut good, but for whoever did them, they were effective, especially if the aim was to try and attempt a sort of old-school sci-fi feel: the bug creature things looked like they were made for Starship Troopers by Ray Harryhausen at the dawn of CGI. Does that sound harsh? Rude? I don't mean it to, honestly, I liked this. The death rays and toxic gas, too, I thought, were nods to classic sci-fi, specifically George Pal's incarnation of this story with its iconic green glow. I really hope these nods, this effect I felt, was in fact a nod to classic sci-fi, because it's in regards to this vein that I most often view the work of The Asylum. Like George Pal or Samuel Z. Arkoff, I see David Michael Latt (who directed this film) and his crew as innovative imagineers (a term I think I'm stealing from Disney), testing the bounds of what we can believe, not afraid to tell a story you might have heard before because of confidence in their ability to tell it differently than all others; not better, not best, but not the worst, either, just different, theirs, which is the aim of every artist - to make that which is universal, unique.

"Slow down, asshole," some of you might be saying, "We're not exactly talking about art here."

To which I say: that's pretty narrow-minded of you. If all you can find art in is pretentious heavy-handedness, if you can't see it in the creation of fictional bug creatures, or in the neon glow of vaporizing death rays, or in the lines of C. Thomas Howell's face when he laments the fate of his wife and son - then you're not seeing half the art that's out there (and you're probably reading the wrong blog).

Back to it though: the main distinction I found in this telling of the story was that The Asylum has made a more intimate film than other versions; instead of focusing of the global scale of things their version is largely centered around one man alone in pursuit of his family, and, like they did with I Am Omega, The Asylum puts a heavy emphasis on the emotional toll of such a fate, allowing stress to dominate reason and cast the scientist as all but useless, just another rote survivor. Latt and crew also played up the faith angle a little more than others, okay, a lot more, specifically in reference to the alien attacks as a version of the Christian Rapture. Though here it isn't driven home as fervently as it would be in the pictures distributed through their Faith Films off-shoot, the character of Pastor Victor (the always splendid Rhett Giles) is absolutely inserted to give a theological perspective on the end of days.

All in all, this story isn't new; The Asylum's perspective on it, however, feels fresh, and is made so through the direction of David Michael Latt and the performances of his capable cast, a virtual who's who of Asylum films: C. Thomas Howell (Da Vinci Treasure, The Land That Time Forgot), Andy Lauer (Legion of the Dead, King of the Lost World), Rhett Giles (Frankenstein Reborn, The Apocalypse), Kim Little (Jane White is Sick and Twisted, Supercroc) - whose three minutes on screen are by far the most memorable - Sarah Lieving (in her first film role) and notable non-inmates like Jake Busey and the guy who played "Zed" in Pulp Fiction as C. Tom's brother.

Truth be told, I liked this better than Spielberg's version, I honestly did. Are the effects better? Of course not, the other version was directed by Steven fucking Spielberg. But H.G. Wells' original story isn't about effects, it's about fear, it's about chaos, and it's about the integral character of man being tested in the face of such adversities. And in that sense, in my opinion, Steven Spielberg is no David Michael fucking Latt.

Let the hate mail commence.

observation notes: King of the Lost World

This is where the distinction between "tie-in" and "mockbuster," I believe, is the most vivid. King of the Lost World is of course meant to draft attention from fans of King Kong, but instead of making a rote reinvention, The Asylum has here - as they did with Princess of Mars, the Avatar tie-in and The Land That Time Forgot, a Land of the Lost tie-in - returned to the source material, of sorts. King Kong is not based on a book, but there are tales it was suggested by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's novel "The Lost World," which also inspired "Jurassic Park" and Jurassic Park (and the sequel to the latter, of course; it's subtitled The Lost World.) It also feels as if The Asylum, when putting a modern touch on the storyline, was inspired by a certain television show that premiered just the year before. See how many words you get into the following sentence before you figure out what show I'm referring to; if it takes more than four, you're blocked for ten minutes: when a plane crashes on a strange island, survivors are left with a struggle for life that's going to take more than mere survival.

The survivors - a collection of Asylum all-stars including Bruce Boxleitner (Legion of the Dead, "Babylon 5"), Jeff Denton (The Beast of Bray Road, Pirates of Treasure Island), Rhett Giles (Frankenstein Reborn, Dracula's Curse), Andrew Lauer (Jane White is Sick & Twisted, War of the Worlds) and Sarah Lieving (pick any Asylum movie; 70-80% of the time she'll be in it) - make the inevitable decision to leave the beach in search of other survivors and the airplane's black box, not realizing they're entering a monstrous menagerie of Vernesian proportions: animals, insects, plants - you name it, it's out to get you on this island. So, predictably, things go south real quick.

First the toga-ed, juggalo-ed natives appear. Then the survivors come across a footprint the size of a fucking starter home. I don't know how other people travel, but me, if I come across something like that, a footprint I could park my car in, I go back the fuck where I came from. But instead of retreating to the beach and visibility from the air, our survivors decide to test that designation by tromping further into the obviously foreboding jungle. Along the way they find a downed plane with working missiles - lucky break, that - and a deranged Steve Railsback (Helter Skelter, The Stunt Man, Intermedio). The rest I'll let you unravel for yourself - say no to spoilers - but needless to say, creatures, fire and sweat-stained tank-tops abound. There's even a gratuitous breast scene that turns kinda lesbian, followed promptly by mild jungle torture, creature violence and revelations. And the monkey, the king of the lost world, I'll say just two things: it's really, really fucking big, really; and it makes a laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate appearance in the film.

Bottom line, I found the film to be enthralling, original and character driven instead of FX-heavy, though the FX present are effective. They're not Peter-Jackson FX, but aside from that monkey-T. Rex brawl, who the fuck cared? Bruce Boxleitner is viciously stoic as the passenger with a secret, and a gun, while Steve Railsback is rightfully ornery and emaciated, a convincing castaway madman, spouting "Lost" season one theories that the island is their Hell. Sarah Lieving and Jeff Denton are lovers once again as they were in The Beast of Bray Road, the former her typically hyper-motivated, fiercely-independent self, strong and brash, but still able to break just like a little girl, and the latter furrowedly concerned and quietly relentless.

Brought to you by the same writing triumvirate of Pirates of Treasure Island, and directed, as was that film, by Leigh Scott, the Peter Jackson of The Asylum, King of the Lost world is B-movie gold, and a goddamn good time.