Hillbilly Horror: Hitting Too Close to Home?

There are all sorts of divisions within the horror community. Well, not divisions so much as sub-sects within the same basic genre. There's the supernatural movies which consist of the haunted house genre or there's the slasher with all of its sexual mores. Still, there are some genres that deserve credit for being more topical and influential than most casual movie viewers give them credit.

One of the clearest examples is the nuclear mutation sub-genre. This type of movie has certainly died out over the years as we make way for the virus mutation genre, playing off American fears of bio-chemical warfare, of course. Still, the nuclear genre gave birth to all sorts of creature features in the 50s and 60s. Stories about giant man-eating mutating ants like Them! terrified audiences because for all their education on the subject, especially compared to what is known now, it was a surprisingly realistic fear.

But the nuclear genre soon tired of oversized animals attacking small-town citizens, which gave birth to Attack of the 50 Foot Woman and other movies like this. Sure, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman is a poorly disguised attack on feminism, but it also perpetuated the fear of nuclear politics. Eventually movies like that led to more graphic portrayals of violence and terror on the homefront, such as Wes Craven's The Hills Have Eyes. As movies got increasingly violent and aggressive, the rules started to change with the times. We were no longer afraid of what nuclear power could do, we became afraid of our own potential for destruction and mayhem.

Thus, what is frequently called hillbilly horror was born. Now this genre itself was loaded with subtle attacks on Americana. As always, the goal of the horror movie continued to be to address the topical fears of everyday Americans. One of the earliest examples of these movies, The Last House on the Left which is, inherently a class struggle in horror form, was largely based on the terror of the Vietnam War. Everyday Americans were going out and committing acts of savagery that would later show up on TVs in living rooms across the nation. It was horrifying to think what everyday Americans were capable of doing in the face of wartime, specifically in a war that many felt we had no business fighting.

However, the attack against Republicans and the involvement in the Vietnam War was only the beginning of hillbilly horror. It continued to involve over the years, with different causes for the deformations and acts of cruelty. Unlike real life, the disfiguration of the characters, which allowed the audience to identify him/her as evil, do not occur in real life. One such explanation was inbreeding. This was a more metaphorical approach to American values that seemed to insist upon themselves. Of course, more American values beget more American values in the same way that inbreeding simply causes further destruction to one's self. More than anything else, it's an attack on party politics which was long overdue by this time.

Hillbilly horror movies still exist today, although with little purpose. The cutting edge of the hidden meaning has dulled over time as America has become increasingly disenchanted with its own way of life. Furthermore, there are few American horror filmmakers that are courageous enough to tackle these issues or even new material at all, leaving hillbilly horror to be immortalized as one of the last great political stances within the horror genre.

A Writer's Plea for Reading

They say a woman's job is never done. There's the whole inherent sexism of our society, followed by marriage (or spinsterhood, I'm not one too judge) and then usually children (or many many cats if the spinsterhood thing is still an option) and then watching the kids grow up and run off. It's a valid sentiment. Sure, it sounds a little condescending, but you get the gist.

What do they say about writers? Well, nothing really... the age of print is dying so we don't get much credit here or there. Still, look how many movies people are watching. Of the three new releases coming out tomorrow, Charlie St. Cloud is based on a book and Dinner for Schmucks, which is based on The Diner Game is based on a play. The third? Well, Cats and Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore doesn't look like it was based on anything but the inane ramblings of a three year old hopped up on cough syrup locked up in the same kennel as their dog, so I'm not sure if we'll even count that one.

My point, after all that rambling, is that writers are too frequently discounted. The life of a writer isn't easy and it's damn near impossible to survive. I mean, forget the lousy pay and the plethora of rejection, let's look at some of our best writers, shall we?

Ernest Hemingway? Killed himself and an alcoholic. Edgar Allan Poe? Drunkard, gambler, and still no one really knows how he died, although theories range from rabies (seriously?) to liver failure. Jack Keruouac? Inspired the beat movement and died penniless from alcoholism. Catch my drift?

Now I'm not saying that all of us writers are alcoholics and gamblers. I'm just saying that the writer's lifestyle allows for plenty of stressors, but not much relief. I mean, sure there are those bestseller authors, but eventually it becomes more about the movie than the craving to put pen to paper. Writers who are so firmly committed to their craft (and mind you, I'm not claiming to be one of them) frequently suffer for it.

Now I'm not saying this because it's National Library Month or anything. Do we even have one of those? Anyways, I'm just saying this because writing day in and day out can be tiring. I love what I do otherwise I wouldn't do it, but it's pretty much a constant blow to the ego. You do it because you have to get it out of you, but there's also this desire to be read, to be affirmed by the faceless, nameless readers of the internet. God knows I won't get that validation any time soon, but hell, do it for yourself. Look around (and I'm not just saying my blog, it could be anyone's) and who knows, you might find something worth reading.

Real World Solutions for Childhood Problems

Today is the day and age of growing up way too fast. I don't know when it happened or how to fix it, but that's where we are these days. Kids are starting to become sexually active at a younger age. Hell, I even saw an 8 year old with an iPhone at the bus stop with her babysitter the other day. If we're being perfectly honest, I was more upset that an 8 year old can afford nicer things than I can, but that's irrelevant!

As children grow up too fast, the issue at hand is that childhood problems don't go away. For instance, you think you because your kid has got a Coach purse she (or God bless the little fella, he) isn't gonna have problems at school? That just makes her/him an easier target if you ask me. But then again, none of you did ask me. Well, not directly, but I guess by reading my blog you sorta are asking for my advice... That's kinda flattering... You'd actually be surprised by how few people ask for my advice. Why? I don't know, I give great advice. But right, back on message, gotta stay on point.

Alright, so where was I? Oh yeah, even though kids may act more and more like miniature adults (shut up, I know that that's kinda what they are anyway) doesn't mean they stop having kid problems. Using the kids I see in the world around me, I'm here to offer some real world solutions to childhood problems.

1. Problem - Your son or daughter is getting picked on at school by a bully.
Solution - While I would never advocate your child using violence of any sort, I do encourage an open discussion between parents and children. Be sure to show interest/concern for your child. Children should feel safe to talk to their parents and ask for their help. That's why, if your child seems like he/she is the victim of bullying, you should offer your help like any parent would. Money. If he/she is concerned about his/her safety, there's always the option of hiring someone else to teach this bully a lesson. Remember, I said I'd never advocate the child using violence, never said no to anyone else. Take a page out of that Texas mom's handbook, the one who took a hit out on the other girl on the cheerleading squad. I mean, people remember her for a reason.

2. Problem - Your son or daughter has a crush and is nervous about asking out a boy/girl at school.
Solution - Show interest. Ask them about their crush. Sure, they may be mortified at first, but in the end it'll pay off. Oh wait, I take that back. Tell them to watch Pretty Woman instead. They'll soon realize that a way to another person's heart isn't through love or affection, it's through money. If they're not Julia Roberts fans, which believe me, I can relate, tell them to check out The Real Housewives of New Jersey or any other city. They really both prove the same point. Money talks. Then the best you can do is step back and let the magic happen. Oh, and leaving your kid a couple of 20s certainly wouldn't hurt your chances at the "Parent of the year" award.

3. Problem - Your son or daughter is struggling in school.
Solution - Like I said, showing interest is key... but listening to kids' problems is boring. Ship 'em off to a shrink who will pump them full of drugs till they're too numb to whine about anything. Yet another problem solved by paying someone else to care. If you're one of those folks who doesn't believe in pharmacology, at least cut the kid some slack and hire someone else to do their homework. They get the good grades and you get to look like the hero.

So there you have it. Three common problems met with three real-world life lessons taught by yours truly. You may note that I myself do not have children. It'll happen one of these days and until then, I live vicariously through the parents of the world, buying their children's affection one day at a time. God bless America.

CelebReality

There was a time, granted it wasn't when I was alive, but there was a time when the movie star was a revered position in America. He/She told us what to smoke, what to drink, what to wear but that wasn't all. They told us what was American. There was a bizarre sense of patriotic duty in their work, perhaps because there was a stronger need for patriotism, but I'm not here to theorize on the state of affairs in present-day America.

The relationship between the movie star and the American public. The movie star needed people to continue to go to their movies. The American public needed someone to idolize, to revere almost. For a long time, that was the way it worked, with countless PR folks controlling the strings and doing all the behind the scenes work to hide any trace of flawed humanity. This helped to establish the golden age of screen culture. Sure, it was a messy business, but the men and women behind the scenes didn't care as long as their pet project stayed out of the gossip columns. The American people at home? I find it hard to believe they really didn't know that there was a darker side to Hollywood, but it was almos mutually agreed that nobody talked about it. It wasn't an age of decency, it was the packaging, production, and placement of the American dream. "What's that? Donna Reed uses Mop and Glo? You should too!" It was all about the money, but at least there was this false promise of purity.

Now what do we have? We have celebrities doing, I'm sure, the same thing that people did in the golden age of celebrity screen culture, we just have different needs this time around. Now, your average American doesn't want to be sold a pack of Virginia Slims by some big-eyed starlet. No, now we want that element of flawed humanity. We want to know that these big names make the same mistakes as us. In fact, if at all possible, we want them to make bigger mistakes than us. Today's celebrity culture wants to strip away the layers and see that everyone's just as fucked as everyone else.

There are a variety of contributing factors, but who's the real culprit? Why, it's everybody's best friend, technology. I mean, the blame can't be squarely placed on the shoulders of Twitter and cell phone cameras. After all, celebrities do have to take responsibility for their own actions like the rest of us. Still, this fascination of the reality of the American celebrity (or celebreality for short) is this. The constant level of exposure usually leads to one of two extremes; either the American public is smitten or they quickly become disenchanted and disengaged from the work the celebrity produces based on their actions in real life. One of the more recent examples is the whole Mel Gibson racist, anti-semitic rant. I was disgusted by what he said, as I hope most people were. However, it is his personal life that informs us on his professional life. If we had never heard that rant, would people be more likely to see his movies? Well, maybe not because he doesn't seem to make much these days... plus, there's that whole DUI thing... but if he did, without this exposure to the inner most workings of his seriously depraved mind, none of us would have known any better.

I'm not taking a stance either way. Believe me, I hate that most of us, myself included, have gotten to point of judging people based on anything besides their work, but in certain instances, they're just too horrible in real life that it's impossible to avoid. Still, I'm just saying, there's no way Frankie Avalon would've tried to pull this shit. We've come along from the birth of celebrity culture to our star obsessed celebreality.

Character Study

He wanted to like who he was. Or at least who he was with himself. He offered some sort of false hope, that he was somehow better than all his shortcomings and his modest successes. He wasn’t. He knew this much to be true. These thoughts clouded his mind on days when he was confined to his room, no voice except his own hammering out concise statements, philosophizing on life and the eternal human condition. These were the days he felt a prisoner of his own mind, doomed to his small room, thinking and theorizing about a life he knew he would never live. There was madness in his process, but there was a sense of security, a safety as he hid away from any real human connections other than the intimate one he had forged with himself years ago. But what he saw was an opportunity, the possibility that all his antiquated and bitter sentiments about mankind and his mistresses were somehow products of his environment, falsehoods that he told himself to rationalize an irrational fear of human touch. The window of his room offered outlook, but a removal from the world around him. It’s easy to judge behind panes of glass. But not him, the man with the weathered face and the tired eyes. The expression he wore was a testament to the cruelty of the outside elements, the physical abuse and emotional torment of going through life, living for the next day but never for the moment in which he resided. He saw in his glassed over eyes the regrettable nature of living, the flesh stripped of all signs of life as it hung, wearily, from the man’s gaunt face. He clung to these images of self, these preserved moments in which his existence, his reality, was undeniable. He didn’t need someone else to see him, to touch him, to hear the steady beat of his heart, because he had all these things. He knew the others, the weak ones outside his realm of self, the ones who needed to be touched and to be heard to know that they were alive. He scoffed at them because he knew what the lives of others brought. He knew that with the touch of others came the responsibility to hear and be heard, to touch and be touched, to feel for others, to be hurt by others. He didn’t need to feel that again. He didn’t need to know the misery of others as proof of life. He had built a life of his own within the safety of the decaying walls, the yellowing wallpaper of his room that curled up in the corners, reminders of the damage that had been done to this room and to himself. His squalid surroundings seemed a fitting cage for his fractured thoughts and false declarations of superiority. He was imprisoned in this room. He clung to its reminders of the passing of time, and the passing of his time. He wasn’t always alone.

Behind Lynch's Blue Velvet Curtain

Ever since Hitchcock invited audiences to engage in people’s most private moments with his 1954 film Rear Window, America’s fascination with the going-ons of other people’s lives has continued. This has led to a sub-genre of sorts in which the protagonist is not necessarily in the right, but through the film’s progression the audience itself becomes complicit. This was illustrated recently with the film Disturbia which applies the illicit gaze technique. However, other films in this genre took lessons from Hitchcock and managed to create something uniquely their own such as film auteur David Lynch and his 1986 film Blue Velvet. Blue Velvet’s voyeuristic tendencies bear a striking resemblance to Hitchock’s classic film, however Lynch manages to draw from his predecessor and manipulate his own story in a way that is just as similar to Hitchcock’s piece as it is his own.
Blue Velvet’s initial premise of a young man’s fascination with the inner workings of a mysterious older woman is one of the most obvious elements. Lynch clings to the idea of voyeurism throughout the film. One of the strongest scenes where Jeffrey is watching Dorothy through her closet door illustrates the “perverse joy” of watching and being watched quite well. Once again, the importance of gender is an element crucial to the film as well. Audiences may note that the voyeur, and arguably the characters who tend to have the upper hand throughout the film, are male characters. This is demonstrated through Jeff’s watching and Frank’s abusive nature and stature, such as his violence against Dorothy, the rape scene, and his positioning of himself above her except when he regresses to his childlike form. Although this film is a product of the 1980s the role of Sandy as love interest and accomplice is almost a caricature of the leading ladies in the old Hollywood films that Lynch seems to be mocking. One scene that demonstrates this is after Jeff calls Sandy who has just helped a naked and crazed Dorothy into an ambulance. Almost immediately after Jeff’s apology, she accepts in an almost laughable manner. However, most of these elements can be forgiven in Lynch’s approach to the material. With this film, Lynch explores alternative elements while paying homage to Hithcock.
One of the most palpable themes of the film is the concept of sensory perception. Throughout the film there are clues that challenge the viewer to experience the movie beyond mere vision. Such an example can be found in one of the film’s inciting incidents, when Jeff finds the severed ear. Even though we are only seeing the movie, it immediately conjures up thoughts of what we hear. Furthermore, the film’s title is not only a song, but it is also a fabric, evoking both the senses of touch and sound. This is illustrated in another way as Jeffrey’s adventures transcend the voyeurs and his story becomes more experiential. For instance, it is upon his second encounter with Dorothy that he is dragged into her depraved world. Very soon there after, Jeff finds himself entangled in Dorothy’s life as well as the misdeeds of Frank with very real bruises from both experiences to prove how hands-on he has become. Another thematic idea that is expressed visually in the film is that not everything is as it seems. This is demonstrated in the film’s opening when Mr. Beaumont collapses and the camera shows the bugs crawling through the turf in the seemingly perfect lawn. However, it is also evidenced in the very setting of the film itself. The town Jeff lives in is the idyllic quiet town that is often associated with the 1950s, but at its heart there is evil, which is personified by Frank. In a way, the setting of the film is one of the most explicit representations of Lynch’s themes of the film.
Although these visuals communicate very basic ideas, Blue Velvet never claims to be complex. While its execution may be atypical, most of its themes seem very rudimentary. They are themes that we have seen in hundreds of films before and will continue to for years to come. Although its resemblance to Hitchock’s Rear Window is uncanny, Lynch manages to make good use of some of the themes of Rear Window in this film, while supplying a new location to drive home some ideas of his own. Regardless, Lynch’s Blue Velvet is a return to the themes of voyeurism and antiquated gender roles while finding a new way to make the film more experiential and forcing the audience to be aware that nothing is as it seems, not even in suburbia.

The Unsung and Undressed Heroes of Horror

Millions of young people flee to LA with stars in their eyes and the dream of making it big. The reality of it? At least a couple hundred will end up slinging hamburgers, even more will end up on a bus back home and, well, some will try less legal means to survive before admitting failure. Yeah, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talkin' about...

But every so often the paths of the ill-fated and the starstruck cross. We like to call that the horror movie. Sure, I love horror movies as much as... no, probably more than the next guy. Still, I'm not gonna pretend it's glamorous. I mean, sure there's the blood and the splatter and for some reason the occasional nip slip, but what do we expect? It's Hollywood, sex and violence go together like milk and cookies.

Still, this isn't some rant about the amoral products of Hollywood. No sir, this is about that dream of making it big, and where do you start? Shakin' your goods for the cameraman in a horror movie. I mean, look at the track record folks. Jennifer Aniston in Leprechaun. I mean, sure, she's not much of an actress, but she's cute as hell and that didn't seem to bother much of America during her Friends days. Renee Zellwegger in The Return of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre or as I like to call it Oh God Please Let This Be the Last One or Kill Me Now So I Don't Have to Suffer Through ANother Renee Zellwegger Movie. There's a surprisingly long list of actors and actresses (although primarily actresses) who have gone legitimate after their horror debuts.

Alas, I digress again. You see, this isn't about the folks that make it big. If you thought that it was, my apologies. This is about their co-stars, the ones that get left behind and singed by the blast as others skyrocket towards fame. Most famously, "the naked girl". Now you may be thinking, "What naked girl? What the hell is he talking about?" But let's not be naive. When talking about horror, specifically the slasher, we're usually talkin' some nudity. This is before the days where PG-13 horror dominated, of course.

But let's talk a minute, and stop and thinking about all those women that got their kits off for the enjoyment of the audience, only to be brutally murdered by some masked figure. Ignore the absolute humiliation of being found naked and dead, I'm talkin' about the actress here. She gets to look forward to callin' home and saying, "Look ma, I made it!" I mean, sure, there's that, followed quickly by "Oh no, no, that's fine, you don't need to see it. I just wanted to tell you I got an acting job..." I'd take being discovered naked over that awkward conversation any day, but that could just be me. So this is for you ladies, the unsung and undressed heroes of horror. May God and your mother never see your shame.