First off, I’d like to apologize for getting so literary with this column. I always assume Matt breaks down in tears whenever sees one of my posts. I do have reviews of Federico Fellini’s La Strada, John Carpenter’s Prince of Darkness, and Jonathan Glazer’s Sexy Beast (which might just have one of the greatest and most compact scripts in cinema history) in line; however, they are not finished. I also want to talk about the amazing pop cultural pastiche that is The Venture Bros. sometime down the road as well. I was in the process of working on a two part piece about liberature (no, I spelled it right) and how video games can provide hints to literature’s ability to remain valid in the 21^st century, when I decided it would be best to do something a little more…light. Don’t worry though, the literary torture will resume next week.

In the meantime, since I’ve been living in Poland for five years this month, I thought it might be fun to make some general observations about Polish pop culture from an American’s perspective. (more…)

I always had a soft spot for John Carpenter. As a kid, he was the first director whose name meant something to me. Seeing his name flash across the screen for the commercials for The Fog when I was a child left an impression that I’m still trying to shake off today. More than any other director, Carpenter appeared to be making movies just for me. Halloween and The Fog were there when I was first discovering horror movies. Escape from New York, The Thing and Starman arrived when I was exploring other genres. When I discovered Stephen King, Christine arrived at the video store. When I stumbled on martial arts movies, he gave me Big Trouble in Little China. When I became interested in science, Carpenter churned out the underrated Prince of Darkness (a pessimistic and claustrophobic End of Days story offset by the optimism of quantum physics). And when I started to question authority, along came They Live (a movie remembered more for its excess than its restraint). Looking at Carpenter’s work from The Fog (1980) to They Live (1988), not only is it an impressive resume, but it is a body of work that perfectly reflects the paranoia, glut and cynicism that was the Eighties.

Sadly, the Nineties would not be a good time for Carpenter, and this, like many of us, is when I started to lose interest in his work. Memoirs of an Invisible Man, while inventive at times, is painful and never quite understands what kind of movie it wants to be; all of this is made worse by the fact that many scenes practically scream studio intervention.

So when I saw the trailer for 1995’s In the Mouth of Madness, I tried not to get my hopes too high. The good news was the movie ended up being pretty good, and the bad news was that it would be Carpenter’s last good movie. (more…)