One of the only things I liked about living in Ottawa was the strong film community. Every other week there seemed to be a film festival or independent screenings of some sort. Strangely, one of my favourite venues was the Ottawa Public Library. It was in that small basement theatre that I experienced some of my most rewarding cinematic experiences.

One of those occurances was a screening of The Goblin Man of Norway, with director Howard Byrackk in attendance, and shown as part of a tribute to The World Film Society, held in cooperation with The Norwegian Film Committee. I’m usually not one for documentaries, but an early experience with The Legend of Boggy Creek ingrained in me a love for all things cryptozoological and pseudo-cryptozoological.

The Goblin Man of Norway revolves around the discovery of technology dating before recorded history, and the attempt by some scholars to link this artifact to creatures of Myth. As the film progresses and the study of the creature turns from the theoretical to the practical, this initial excitement is tempered by, and eventually replaced in whole with barely suspressed fear and paranoia. As one participant extols, “It reinforces the notion that what has been dismissed as mere story may indeed be a record of the actual.” Taken at face value, this idea of cyclic history could be considered to be a positive step toward understanding our own nature through the uncovering of the distant past. However, upon further reflection such considerations may be seen as a double-edged sword. Some legends may be better off buried and half-remembered.

While I had heard good things about Byrackk’s previous outings, including his critically acclaimed film The Lost Are Now Found, I was unprepared for a documentary with this kind of cold beauty. The Goblin Man of Norway is an eerie example of the form, with its strange combination of Errol Morris-style reenactments, Norse mythology, and imagery that evokes John Carpenter’s The Thing. The creature itself is unnerving, not only in its appearance but in the implications suggested by its very existence.

The Q+A afterwards was one of the most intriguing, yet volatile, I’ve ever been witness to. Director Howard Byrackk was genial and engaging, even when taking exception to accusations that he was exploiting this scientific find in an attempt to create unnecessary controversy and further his own notoriety. Oddly, one of the people protesting Byrackk’s methods was Mark Hoyt, one of the geomorphologists who discovered the creature. Hoyt interrupted a question directed at Byrackk and proceeded to accuse the filmmaker of misrepresentation. Hoyt’s objections centred around a belief that Byrackk had distorted the scientific basis of the findings in favour of cheap scaremongering. For some, this intrusion dispelled the feelings of foreboding that the film conveys, but as the confusion died down and the lights came up I was left with a lingering sense of unease. Hic sunt dracones.

I was convinced that, considering it’s origins, I would never get another chance to view it. The only copy I could track down was a VHS release distributed exclusively through reference libraries and assorted education institutions in Norway. Thankfully, it appears that the documentary recently served as a springboard for the development of a video game, and the company creating the game has obtained the rights to use The Goblin Man of Norway in their promotions. You can find the first third of the documentary in question here, listed under Developer Diary (March 27, 2008). While this means that we probably shouldn’t expect a proper DVD release, at least this rare work is finally available in North America.

This past month saw the publication of the most important book of 2008; Tough To Kill: The Italian Action Explosion. Authors Paul Cooke and David Zuzelo have been teasing international action aficionados with this tome for years, rationing out small tastes such as the formation of their blog of the same name and Zuzelo’s essential essay on the Pastapocalypse. With over 70 reviews and articles on Italian action cinema stalwarts like Bruno Mattei, Mark Gregory, Reb Brown, and Edoardo Margheriti, Cooke and Zuzelo are finally giving these treasures from the dusty shelves of Mom and Pop video stores the attention they deserve.

Give them your money. The future depends on it.

The Brooklyn Rail has posted a terrific little interview with Death Note director Shusuke Kaneko.

“At the same time the creepiest part of shooting was when Light was actually writing down the name. I was focusing on his hand; it’s only writing but at the same time it means he’s killing someone, it kind of symbolizes the death of another person. So for me it was a stressful procedure just to shoot that particular scene.”

What’s especially gratifying about it is the interviewer’s knowledge of the director’s intriguing career choices and Kaneko’s willingness to talk about it. They run through Kaneko’s past as a director on roman-porno, his miraculous revamp of Gamera, their favourite kaiju, and even talk about Death Note a little. The only thing missing is a discussion of Kaneko’s Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack, possibly the best of the Millennium Era entries.

“Horrifically justified, the nightmare evolves to where I had predicted. I have got nothing else to say.”

Synapse Films has made it known that prominent Greek independent filmmaker Nikos Nikolaidis has passed away. An accomplished author, poet, and screenwriter, in addition to his directorial duties, Nikolaidis was best known in North America for Singapore Sling, a deviant black and white neo-noir Greek tragedy. Obliterating the lines between genres to bring his anarchic vision to the screen, Nikolaidis was considered by many to stand among the ranks of cinema’s great surrealists.

R.I.P. Nikos Nikolaidis

The Third Mother, a witch of unimaginable power, is unleashed upon Rome, and a woman with a mysterious past must find the courage to try and stop her.

It’s always difficult to disassemble and examine a Dario Argento film. Not unlike the riddles his characters encounter in his films, closer examination can reveal new insights and even the smallest newfound detail can affect your perception of his work. More than once I’ve revisited an Argento film and come away with an entirely different reaction from my first viewing. It’s why committing to a stance is so intimidating.

The conclusion to the Three Mothers trilogy is so completely unlike the other two installments, and the majority of Argento’s work, that at times it seems to be a reaction to those earlier films, if not outright parody. Perhaps the most noticable difference is in the attitude of the main character, Sarah. Gone are the plucky heroines and amateur sleuths of Argento’s early career, their curiosity replaced by indifference and outright cowardice. Sarah spends nearly the entire movie running away from her obstacles rather than facing them head-on. Where characters in Argento productions of the past willingly took a path through Hell to satisfy their curiosity, Sarah takes a cab.

So much of Argento’s work is about mysteries and secrets. In what seems to be a refutation of his earlier obsessions, Argento reveals everything in Mother of Tears, stripping the supernatural of its mystique. Where before Argento would build his themes upon visual cues and hope that his audience could keep up, here everything is laid out in lengthy scenes of exposition. Characters are carted out at regular intervals to reveal layers upon layers of backstory and mythology, almost all of which are useless to the heroes. The madness caused by The Third Mother is similarly underwhelming. We’re told that there’s a violent epidemic taking place, but with few exceptions the acts of carnage are almost mundane, with muggings and minor acts of vandalism being the most prominently displayed. Even the acts of heroism are almost an afterthought. It’s as if Argento spent his youth scratching away at the natural to find secrets and the supernatural underneath, only to dig even further in his later years and find his way back to the mundane. This is most strikingly apparent in the appearance of the Third Mother herself, who is clothed in allure and mystery for most of the film, only to disrobe at the climax into something far less satisfying than what we were originally presented.

The vaccuum created by this rejection of the fantastic is filled by copious amounts of nudity and gore. Most of the kills, if lacking the visual flare of his earlier set-pieces, are extremely effective in their execution. It’s the one aspect of the film that seems to have roots in decades past, containing the same unrestrained glee and passion that Argento is renowned for. One sequence in particular is loaded with such deviancy, brutality and ritual that it made half the theatre scream out loud.

Whether you would find the above appealing or not, and I can already see that this is going to be a divisive film, there were a few aspects of Mother Of Tears that rubbed me the wrong way. The aforementioned exposition is provided by at least five different people when only one or two would have been sufficient, and the protagonists spend a great deal of time travelling to and fro in order to gain this knowledge, so much so that there were times I thought I was watching a travelogue. The person sitting next to me actually fell asleep. No, really. She was snoring. Also the line delivery was deplorable for the majority of the film. This was especially pronounced when compared to those instances when purely physical acting was on display.

While I’m currently convinced that Argento deliberately set out to confound the expectations of his audience, glimmers of which could be seen in Phenomena and Opera, and that despite a few rough patches it’s a trip worth taking, ask me again tomorrow. I may have changed my mind.

“”Death Note” stories contain elements of mystery, death and revenge, and are harmful to children’s psychological development.” - From a statement by the Chinese government on illicit horror material.

It’s easy to get lost in the minutae of North American horror cinema and neglect the big picture. While most bloggers, myself included, are pondering the fate of R-rated horror, half a world away there’s a genuine War on Horror.

It all started with Death Note, a hugely popular horror manga which tells the story of a boy who comes into possession of a notebook which has the power to kill anyone whose name is written within. With the help of the internet, Death Note and other horror publications have fallen into the hands of eager students in China, who find the stories to be a great way to deal with stress and anxiety. Some students were so taken with the story that they created their own Death Note binders, which they used to catalogue the names of people they were angry with. These people included their own parents and teachers, who did not take kindly to being marked for death.

The result has been a nationwide crackdown on all horror material. According to the agency in charge of dealing with pornography and other harmful materials, they have confiscated 5,912 “Death Note” books, 11,930 other illegal horror books, and 1,364 horror CDs and DVDs, most of which are likely bootlegs to begin with. The government also intends on clamping down on horror content on the internet.

The ban has even resulted in actual death threats from students directed at teachers, which has only strengthened the government’s stance.

Unlike some people, I can count all my celebrity crushes on one hand. One of those lucky ladies would be the gorgeous Christina Lindberg, star of They Call Her One Eye. David Z. of Tomb It May Concern has cracked open the vaults concerning that film, and is showcasing what may very well be the greatest collection of They Call Her One Eye material gathered in one place (NSFW!). It’s an astonishing amount of memorbilia and rarities, and if you have any interest in cult cinema I strongly suggest you take a look.

History repeats itself, as The Hitcher remake doesn’t fare as well at the box office as originally predicted by most pundits. The reason the Hitcher seemed to be a cinch to win was due to the lack of fresh competition, as it was the only movie that opened wide this weekend. The Hitcher placed fourth in the rankings. Serves it right for denying the existence of modern-day hitchikers. Bastards.

Pan’s Labryinth, which has been receiving gradually wider releases over the past few weeks, placed seventh. Now that part pisses me off. I’ve been dying to see Pan’s Labryinth since I first heard of it, but it only opened in my city this past weekend. This would be fine, except it opened in the tiniest, throwaway theatre in town. I’d probably have a better experience getting a bootleg and watching it at home. All this because the powers-that-be don’t seem to have any faith in the damn thing. Now I’m not sure if I should bother going, or hope that with it’s newfound popularity it will open in a decent-sized theatre.

Some kind of entertainment news program in Italy has produced the first look at Argento’s next film, the eagerly anticipated finale to the Three Mothers trilogy, The Mother of Tears. The clip is buried partway into the program, just below the two minute mark. There is no way you could confuse me for an Argento expert, though I have enjoyed more than my share of his work over the years. However, when the clip finally made its way to his portion, it was unmistakably Argento. I was really shocked at just how much his style leapt out of the screen, though I guess I shouldn’t have been.

This clip is making the rounds without most sites crediting its discovery to anyone, though I have my doubts that many sites have been staying up nights trolling the Cinecetta website for news on Argento. For a lack of a better culprit, I choose Dark Dreams, who I first saw the clip from and who do seem to be that obsessive.

Hey, Horror Nerds. Take a second out from huffing the glue from your Aurora models and cast your orbs on this Entertainment Weekly article on up-and-coming director Dario Argento. Were you aware that people make horror films in places other than America, or even Japan? Like, Oh My God! They even have their own name for horror movies, called Giall-O or something. It’s a kind of dessert, but you can only eat it with black gloves.

[Argento’s Animal Trilogy is] also singlehandedly responsible for earning Argento the nickname ”The Italian Hitchcock,” which to be honest would only really fit if Hitchcock had a sweet tooth for lithe Italian models in go-go boots and the kind of psychedelic freakout music that’s one part Ennio Morricone and two parts European porno soundtrack.

Of course, the three films he’s referring to were scored entirely by Morricone, but that was during his “porno” period, so all is forgiven.

I’d love a job at Entertainment Weekly, but it looks like I’m overqualified. That or it’s because I’m a mouth-breathing, tranchcoat-wearing horror nerd.

Guro is an abbreviated term for Erotic Gruesome Nonsense, an idea that has found it’s way into almost all forms of art in Japan, particuarly manga. The concept is as straight-forward as it’s name, wherein the artists take sex and horror and push them to absurd and grotesque extremes. To illustrate how brutal these comics are, I had to wade through about a dozen pages from various guro before I could find even one image that I could use in this post, and that’s after cropping it.

Guro is rarely translated in North America, presumably because of an insufficient market, but also possibly because some of this material may in fact be considered obscene in various parts of the continent. Due to this, guro seems to have a very healthy presence in the scanlation community, thereby allowing you to sample the sub-genre for free. GuroFan has a number of stories available, from Guillotine Masturbation to Schoolgirl in Concrete, and even provides sample pages so you can pick and shoose which to download. Same Hat! Same Hat!!, from whom I found GuroFan, also has a few stories available if you like what you see and are looking for more.

Thanks to Journalista! for the tip!

I didn’t really set out to celebrate October with a any kind of a coherent schedule. My plan was to simply keep providing horror news, opinion and entertainment at a slightly increased pace from the norm. So those of you hoping for a grande finale may be slightly disappointed. That said, I can think of few better artists to end on than Junji Ito.

Junji Ito is quite possibly my favourite horror comic artist, and that’s saying alot. Like many, my first exposure to his work was through Uzimaki, and it completely freaked me out. If you’d like a free sample, Same Hat! Same Hat!! posted a scanlation of Junji Ito’s short story Falling months back. Enjoy!

In a related note, the story above may or may not be available on Same Hat! Same Hat!! for much longer. The site has promised to take it down just as soon as the story gets a proper release in North America. Apparently, Dark Horse Comics has been publishing Museum of Terror, a 15-volume collection of all of Junji Ito’s short stories, but while they have the rights to the entire series the sales have been less than encouraging.

Read the story presented above, or take my word for it, then pick up Museum of Terror at your local comic book store. Either way, do your part in ensuring that Same Hat! Same Hat!! eventually take that story down, and subsequently make your bookshelf a more terrifying place.

Courtesy of those Garden City kids over at Film Junk, here is the Japanese trailer for Snakes on a Plane. This is far superior to any trailer I saw over here, with plenty of kills, daunting music and an incredibly exuberant voice over. Snake Flight!

I received my copy of The Criterion Collection’s Jigoku today, and tucked away in the case was a postcard promoting their upcoming release of Divorce - Italian Style. I was so taken by Jaime Hernandez’ artwork on the postcard that it took me a second look to realize how macabre it actually is.

Even filmmakers can hit a sophomore slump, particularly if they manage to create something groundbreaking their first time out. After a director has spent all the nightmares accumulated over a lifetime in their first film, what possible hope can they have to capture that magic a second time, especially under tighter time constraints? One answer would be to, quoting James Brown, hit it and quit.

Belgian director Rémy Belvaux passed away on September 4th with only one feature film on his resume, but it was one worth remembering. A mockumentary, Man Bites Dog is the story of a film crew slowly losing both their objectivity and morality as they follow a serial killer on his rounds. While it may not be the first word on the bizarre relationship between journalism and violence, Man Bites Dog is certainly superior to the many similar films that followed in its wake, largely due to its sense of mischief. While Man Bites Dog is one of the darkest comedies ever filmed, it’s still a comedy and a sly one at that.

The controversial winner of the International Critics’ Prize at the 1992 Cannes Film Festival, Man Bites Dog saw Belvaux involved in nearly all aspects of the production including sharing in the writing, directing, producing and even acting. AYet after completing the film, Belvaux turned his back on feature film work and devoted his attention to other acts of misconduct, including assisting in the ambush of Bill Gates with a cream pie in 1999.

It’s been speculated that Man Bites Dog was some elaborate prank and that Rémy Belvaux himself didn’t take it entirely seriously. If that’s the case, this is one joke that misfired with wonderful results, and one which the prankster wisely chose not to repeat again.

Condolences to Rémy Belvaux family and friends. Rest in peace, M. Belvaux.

Found via My New Plaid Pants.