For those of you Jarheads with a taste for conspiracy theories, and who may be open to entertaining the notion that the great - and secretive - director was responsible for staging NASA's lunar landings at the behest of the US Government so as to appear that we were several steps ahead of the Russkies, I submit for your approval this essay recently posted on this website. Why did Kubrick change elements from King's novel that didn't necessarily need to be changed? And are there hidden codes within the movie that offer a wink and a nod to the role that he played in what would have been history's greatest hoax? Personally, I don't believe a word of it. I think.
I watched this clip from last night's Tonight Show, never thinking that it would be a prime candidate for Jar post-age, but then Quentin makes a reference at about the halfway mark that must have left much of the audience scratching their heads...but sent a nice tingly feeling up my spine. Score one for us horror film geeks - and let's hope the uninformed do some research to see who Tarantino was talking about...
Super-sized screens, stadium seating, digital picture and sound, 3-D in its various formats -- we have seen so many improvements in the quality of motion picture presentation over the past few years. At their core, these upgrades have been necessary to compete with the incredible advancements in the technology of home theater systems, and the dogged determination of cinephiles to recreate the cinema experience at home...minus the sticky floors, crying babies, and idiots seated one row back who think their every observation is worthy of inclusion in the next Cahiers du cinema. But there is one problem that cinemas have had throughout my lifetime, and I confess it was something I thought had been dealt with given all the dollars recently invested in multiplex improvement, but since September I've encountered it a handful of times at three different theaters run by three different chains, and it shouldn't be tolerated, especially by horror film fans.
The problem is under-lit projecting, the refusal of some theaters to run their xenon bulbs at full strength and therefore create a light beam that illuminates the projected image in all its crisp, vivid glory. Ever since the 1960s, cinemas have been using projectors that encase xenon gas bulbs -- lamps that burn with a brilliance that rivals the candlepower of the sun. (Consider this - when burned at full power, you're able to see right through the silver "scratch and win" coating - the feature of many a state's lottery tickets - when held up to the aperture. Please don't ask me how I know this.) The bulbs are expensive critters, due primarily to the rarity of xenon gas. When turned all the way up to their maximum power, the average bulb has a lifespan of about 2000 projection hours. (They're also dangerous suckers. You don't want to be next to one when it cracks and explodes due to the highly-pressurized gas. Eyes have been lost.)
But, here's the scam. Some theaters double or triple the lifespan of a bulb by running it at a fraction of its capacity, thereby creating a projected image that is considerably dimmer, duller. As it turns out, many cinema patrons come to accept this quality of the picture, and even grow accustomed to it. ("Oh, that's just the way movies look at this theater, but don't they have the most delicious popcorn?") During the 1980s and 90s, when cinemas showed far more low-budget horror flicks than they do now - movies that were often under-lit without any additional help from the exhibitors - there were many times that films were rendered incomprehensible due to the murky shadows that threatened to digest the image. No less than Martin Scorsese has called this under-projecting the single biggest "crime" committed by theater owners, and has been known to travel with a light meter to cinemas showing his movies...and complaining loudly when the picture is dim.
Complaining is what all film fans should do. If you think that the picture you're seeing is too dark, it probably is, and deserves being called out. The projectionist showing the movies is surely just following orders; exhibitors are continually being pinched by the studios who return fewer and fewer receipts to the owners, and a decision to lower the xenon bulb wattage goes hand in hand with the higher cost of tickets and refreshments, low salaries for employees, and restrooms that don't get cleaned as often as they should. When it comes to picture quality, patrons will complain about focus, "out-of-frames," sound quality,* but a dull, under-lit picture is not a complaint that theaters hear everyday. For those culprits, they should. Let them know that you can see what's happening...or can't see, as the case may be.
* - Which brings up one more point. I have seen audiences sit in quiet sheeplike acceptance of some pretty grievous projection sins for long periods of time, either assuming A) that there is a projectionist who also sees the problem and is working on it, or B) that someone has gone to inform the management already, and there's no need for others to go. Let's clear this up right away - Gone are the days of the projectionist who monitored the movie as it ran. This is the era of automation, and your projectionist may be some high school kid who threaded up your movie, started it (just like he did the other 20+ films at your multiplex), and is now trying to score with the cute girl at concessions. If there's something wrong with the movie, get up and complain immediately. It may be a helluva hike, and you may have to hunt to find someone to alert, but that's the only way the problem will get fixed. Someone needs to develop a call button in the auditorium - that won't get abused - that lets the management know that something's amiss. Someone get on that, will ya?
Since many of my fellow horror blogosphere cohorts are answering the same question - "What are you most looking forward to in 2010?" - let's get back to The Jar by tackling the selfsame query...and as circumstances have warranted, my answer would have been the same in 2009...and 2008...and 2007...and earlier.
At the World Horror Convention in April of 2004, anthologist John Pelan announced an ambitious project to be published by Richard Chizmar and the fine, fine folks over at Cemetery Dance Publications. It was to be called The Century's Best Horror Fiction, a massive two-volume tome that collected 100 of the greatest fear-fraught offerings in short fiction that the prior millennium was able to muster. The guidelines were simple; one story per year, and no more than one story per author. Here's the list, presented at the convention, and subsequently promoted through the CD website -
1901: Barry Pain -- The Undying Thing 1902: W.W. Jacobs -- The Monkey's Paw 1903: H.G.Wells -- The Valley of the Spiders 1904: Arthur Machen -- The White People 1905: R. Murray Gilchrist -- The Lover's Ordeal 1906: Edward Lucas White -- House of the Nightmare 1907: Algernon Blackwood -- The Willows 1908: Perceval Landon -- Thurnley Abbey 1909: Violet Hunt -- The Coach 1910: Wm Hope Hodgson -- The Whistling Room 1911: M.R. James -- Casting the Runes 1912: E.F. Benson -- Caterpillars 1913: Aleister Crowley -- The Testament of Magdelan Blair 1914: M. P. Shiel -- The Place of Pain 1915: Hanns Heinz Ewers -- The Spider 1916: Lord Dunsany -- Thirteen at Table 1917: Frederick Stuart Greene -- The Black Pool 1918: H. De Vere Stacpoole -- The Middle Bedroom 1919: Ulric Daubeny -- The Sumach 1920: Maurice Level -- In the Light of the Red Lamp 1921: Vincent O'Sullivan -- Master of Fallen Years 1922: Walter de la Mare -- Seaton's Aunt 1923: George Allen England -- The Thing from Outside 1924: C.M. Eddy -- The Loved Dead 1925: John Metcalfe -- The Smoking Leg 1926: H.P. Lovecraft -- The Outsider 1927: Donald Wandrei -- The Red Brain 1928: H.R. Wakefield -- The Red Lodge 1929: Eleanor Scott -- Celui-La 1930: Rosalie Muspratt -- Spirit of Stonhenge 1931: Henry S. Whitehead -- Cassius 1932: David H. Keller -- The Thing in the Cellar 1933: C.L. Moore -- Shambleau 1934: L.A. Lewis -- The Tower of Moab 1935: Clark Ashton Smith -- The Dark Eidolon 1936: Thorp McCluskey -- The Crawling Horror 1937: Howard Wandrei -- The Eerie Mr Murphy 1938: Robert E. Howard -- Pigeons from Hell 1939: Robert Barbour Johnson -- Far Below 1940: John Collier -- Evening Primrose 1941: C.M. Kornbluth -- The Words of Guru 1942: Jane Rice -- The Idol of the Flies 1943: Anthony Boucher -- They Bite 1944: Ray Bradbury -- The Jar 1945: August Derleth -- Carousel 1946: Manly Wade Wellman -- Shonokin Town 1947: Theodore Sturgeon -- Bianca's Hands 1948: Shirley Jackson -- The Lottery 1949: Nigel Kneale -- The Pond 1950: Richard Matheson -- Born of Man & Woman 1951: Russell Kirk -- Uncle Isiah 1952: Eric Frank Russell -- I Am Nothing 1953: Robert Sheckley -- The Altar 1954: Everill Worrell -- Call Not Their Names 1955: Robert Aickman -- Ringing the Changes 1956: Richard Wilson -- Lonely Road 1957: Clifford Simak -- Founding Father 1958: Robert Bloch -- That Hell-Bound Train 1959: Charles Beaumont -- The Howling Man 1960: Frederic Brown -- The House 1961: Ray Russell -- Sardonicus 1962: Carl Jacobi -- The Aquarium 1963: Robert Arthur -- The Mirror of Cagliostro 1964: Charles Birkin -- A Lovely Bunch of Coconuts 1965: Jean Ray -- The Shadowy Street 1966: Arthur Porges -- The Mirror 1967: Norman Spinrad -- Carcinoma Angels 1968: Anna Hunger -- Come 1969: Stefan Aletti -- The Last Work of Pietro Apono 1970: David A Riley -- The Lurkers in the Abyss 1971: Dorothy K. Haynes -- The Derelict Track 1972: Gary Brandner -- The Price of a Demon 1973: Eddy C. Bertin -- Like Two White Spiders 1974: Karl Edward Wagner -- Sticks 1975: David Drake -- The Barrow Troll 1976: Dennis Etchison -- It Only Comes Out at Night 1977: Barry Malzberg -- The Man Who Loved the Midnight Lady 1978: Michael Bishop -- Within the Walls of Tyre 1979: Ramsey Campbell -- Mackintosh Willy 1980: Michael Shea -- The Autopsy 1981: Stephen King -- The Reach 1982: Fritz Leiber -- Horrible Imagings 1983: David Schow -- One for the Horrors 1984: Bob Leman -- The Unhappy Pilgrimage of Clifford M 1985: Michael Reaves -- The Night People 1986: Tim Powers -- Night Moves 1987: Ian Watson -- Evil Water 1988: Joe Lansdale -- The Night They Missed the Horror Show 1989: Joel Lane -- The Earth Wire 1990: Elizabeth Massie -- Stephen 1991: Thomas Ligotti -- The Glamour 1992: Poppy Z. Brite -- Calcutta Lord of Nerves 1993: Lucy Taylor -- The Family Underwater 1994: Jack Ketchum -- The Box 1995: Terry Lamsley -- The Toddler 1996: Caitlin R. Kiernan -- Tears Seven, Times Salt 1997: Stephen Laws -- The Crawl 1998: Brian Hodge -- As Above, So Below 1999: Glen Hirshberg -- Mr. Dark's Carnival 2000: Tim Lebbon -- Reconstructing Amy
Impressive, no? And once announced, it led to much online chatter among the Horror Polloi as to individual author and year representations, but all were agreed that, boy oh boy, this was gonna be something to own. CD was listing the price at a hefty $150, but for 700,000 words, this was a must-have.And then we waited. And waited. And waited. For the last few years CD has said on its website that the books are "going out with the next batch," but one would assume that several "batches" have come and gone without the promised result. The book is taking on all the characteristics of Harlan Ellison's long-promised, never-delivered The Last Dangerous Visions, albeit with tales that were previously published and possible to find elsewhere...if you are willing to dig. What was once a very high-profile announcement on the CD site has now been buried, and you have to search to find the page dedicated to the books. There is info buzzing around the Interweb that they are still waiting for rights clearance for a handful of stories, but that seems a far cry from telling fans they're getting shipped off to the printers, if not outright dishonest. For a publisher with such a reputation for excellence, the failure to deliver after all this time is a black eye.So my hope is that all the forces come together, the books truly are ready to become reality, and that next year at this time I'm holding these in my hot little hands...taking care not to drop either on my foot.
While the mainstream media goes into paroxysms of prognostic apoplexy over the state of NBC's late night broadcasting (if, like an old phart like me, you consider 9:00pm "late night"), I'd like to take you back to the good old days of the mid 80s, when Carson was the King, and all self-respecting college students made it a point of religiously watching his follow-up and (then) heir-apparent, Dave. This recently-uploaded segment comes to us from August of 1986, days before the Friday the 22nd opening of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2. Enjoy watching Master of Splatter FX Tom Savini showcase his works to an always-prickly Letterman...
...was Wednesday, January 6th, as the day began with doctors telling my Dad that he should be making plans to go home from the hospital in a day or two, turned suddenly fear-fraught as his heart stopped beating while he sat in a chair, turned agonizingly anxious as repeated electro-shocks and a temporary pacemaker were unable to keep that heart from seizing up, turned tragically somber as we were told to come to the hospital to say our goodbyes, turned apprehensive with dread as we were asked to consider what lengths we - and, by extension, he - were willing to go to keep machines doing the living for him.
And then the morning came. A regular heartbeat, weaning from the ventilator, a drawing-down of dosages, responsiveness, color, life. Doctors again talk of him going home, equipped with a unit to shock his heart back into rhythm when needs; weary nurses - who responded to at least four Code Blues - talk of a "miracle."
Toldja my Dad was a fighter. But whether his younger progeny can take another 24 hours like that is up for discussion.
And all throughout it, wonderful folks were giving me awards. Well, maybe not me per se, but this Interwebbian extension of the contents of my horror-filled cranium - or, if you prefer, Jar. My heartfelt (absolutely no pun intended) thanks go out to the talented and terror-iffic titans behind these blogs -
Chuck Norris Ate My Baby Dinner With Max Jenke Scare Sarah Planet of Terror All Things Horror - all of whom saw fit to bestow either the One Lovely Blog or Kreativ Blogger award upon The Jar, and were overly-effusive in their praise and generous in their sentiments. I get very Old School when someone does something nice for me, folks - I cry like a big ol' baby. (I take after my Dad in that regard.) The Jar is not yet three months old, and to receive these from folks whose work I admire and enjoy genuinely moves this here old phart, and inspires me to even bigger and better things...and they will come. (My apologies if time and present circumstance don't permit me to follow through on some of the requests of the awards; it in no way diminishes my gratitude.) And when Dad comes around, I'll tell him what you've done. Nothing makes him feel better than when people say nice things about his sons.
Again, to all my followers and readers, and especially to my newest ones, in the words of the final line of Fight Club, "You met me at a very strange time in my life." Rest assured that I'll be keeping The Jar open, digging out little tidbits every day, and the walloping massive reviews and posts will see their day in the sun again, I promise.
All you hearts out there, you keep beatin' now, ya hear?
One of the more eye-opening phobias I've discovered through my YouTube searches is an intense, horrified reaction to the corporate logos that appear at the end of television broadcasts - born in childhood and, in rare cases, carried through to adulthood. They're tagged onto the end of telecasts that are often kid-friendly, but seen through the impressionable eyes of youth, they may take on a violent, menacing quality. Among both corporate types and those afflicted, many of them have acquired names: Viacom's "V of Doom," Screen Gems' "S From Hell," and for my money, the nastiest of the bunch, Paramount's "Closet Killer," an angular, borderline-atonal stinger guaranteed to raise your hackles. Coming after a benign cartoon show, they felt like a sucker-punch to many kids. This is absolute fodder for my friends over at Kindertrauma, where I've posted about a couple of my kiddie nightmares in the past - not connected to any logos, mind you, but terrifying nonetheless. (People, do NOT make any effort to dredge up that anti-heroin toy monkey commercial from the late 60s / early 70s - I NEVER want to see that again!)
The S From Hell is a short film that will be premiering at Sundance this month, one that interests me as much as any of the full-length features being offered. And, truth be told, I had never given that Screen Gems logo much thought...but now that you mention it, there's something about the pinched, almost nasal quality of the music tag...and the way the bars swim into frame to intercept the dot...
OK. I'm now creeped out. Here's the trailer for The S From Hell, as well as a compilation of some of the most notorious logo traumatizers.
