Even If You Take a Break From Horror, Horror Doesn't Take a Break From You

By Nick Rich

Horror's a funny thing.

It can be many different things to many different people; elicit emotions as varied as the people who feel them, in situations just as diverse. When done right horror can cut to the heart of a individual in a way that few genres can, touching upon something inside a person they may not have previously know existed.

Horror is fun... horror is disturbing... horror is visceral... horror is universal... and horror doesn't take a break from you, even if you try and take a break from it.

All for One, and Horror for All

Consider a man who just realizes he has forgotten his wedding anniversary receiving a call from his wife alerting him to his gaffe:

Or the woman who, in the course of a mundane activity, encounters a less than mundane situation:

Or the advertisers who thought this children's commercial was a good idea:

Or the 13 year old girl whose dream of stardom resulted in her taking part in creating the alleged "worst music video in history" (Warning! Watch this video at your own risk - you may never be the same again afterwards):

Or, as I experienced not long ago:

A man who attends a disaster movie marathon with his Japanese friend (which showed Earthquake, Towering Inferno and Posiden Adventure) a mere 5 days before the disaster in Japan.

Each of the people in these situations experienced horror. The horror of realization, of misstep, of misguided intentions, of public scorn, of life's twisted synchronicity at times. All unique to the individual, tragic in their own way and situations that were completely unsolicited (well, all except the dudes who created that commercial - what were they thinking?!?).

As you can see: horror happens.

A Horrific Break

As you may or may not have gathered at this point, we're taking a break from our regular RDHP viewing schedule this week while Chris relocates to his abode (his first foray into homeownership). I suppose all of the house themed films we've watched of late finally convinced him to shrug off the bliss of apartment living for more exciting pastures.

So, with Chris away, I thought I would experience a respite from horror in my life... not that I needed one per se (I almost watched a film on my own), but I welcomed the break. Schedule abnormally open, I decided to use my free evening to take my second class of Bikram Yoga. For those of you who don't know what this is I'll give you a quick rundown:

• You put your body into postures that "change the construction of the body from the inside out, from bones to skin and the fingertips to toes".

(Sounds and looks like a horror film no?)

• Your body is flushed of waste products (toxins) produced by the glands and organs of your body.

(Sir Mix-a-lot said it best: "sweat, wet, got it going like a turbo 'vet")

• Oh, and did I mention that the studio where you are taking the class is heated to 104°F?!?

(The founder of this form of yoga rightly calls these studios "Torture Chambers")

Yes, this is how I decided to spend my evening off of the RDHP and, yes, I knew it would be that hot (well, maybe not that hot, but I knew the room would be heated). While most might think me crazy for putting myself in this position, I would likely defend myself with platitudes of health and taking care of my earthly vessel... which is all well and good, lest we forget horror.

I had already taken my first class, and while it was pretty rough, I had a good teacher and didn't experience any extremely untoward sensations (my wife on the other hand, became sick to her stomach) so I thought I was home free on this whole 'ill side effects' thing for subsequent classes. Gentle readers... I forgot the horror. Like in any horror film worth its salt, I went into the situation thinking I would be fine, that things might get rough but I could handle it... oh naiveté, will you ever leave my side?

My second class was taught by a 20-something Caucasian male with an untraceable accent (I guessed Indian, the wife supposed it was a fake hodge-podge of Spanish, French and British) who was subbing for another teacher. Basically it was like having this tell you which poses to do:

An odd experience to say the least.

He asked the seemingly unassuming question, "is today anyone's first time?" Perhaps he didn't realize that the class was so full because of a recent Groupon deal, that more than a few people would be fairly new to this style of yoga so he might want to take it easy... perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Hindsight being what it is, I'm still kicking myself for not saying it was my first time.

The next hour and a half was the most traumatic workout experience of my life. Granted, I've lived a fairly seditary life, but have been known to fall into a workout routine from time to time... but nothing like this. The entire class unfolded like a torture session and after giving it my all for 50 minutes, I descended into an ill stupor for the remaining 40 minutes. I was awash with feelings of nausea, afraid I was going to vomit on the mat next to me with each passing pose... head spinning from the heat, lungs screaming from the lack of oxygen provided via the insufficient nasal passage (you're only supposed to breathe through your nose in class)... finally I just gave in and laid down on my mat in the aptly names 'dead man's' pose.

Gentle readers, time has never gone as slowly as it did for me while lying there waiting for class to end. The air was thick and heavy. The teacher rarely opened the doors (which provides cool air and feels like a gift from God when it sweeps across you) and the air grew increasingly thick - so much so that I was having difficultly breathing. It was the strangest sensation; I wondered if this is what it felt like to drown as the room became fuzzy around me...

How had I gotten myself into this mess? I thought I had everything under control, but I forgot the horror; the horror, however, had not forgotten me. It crashed into my life like crack of lightning and rumbled through my mind like the roar of thunder. The horror.

Suffice to say, it was not a pleasant experience... like a virgin at the end of a slasher film, I survived - a bit battered and bruised, but alive. My next class was 100% better and even enjoyable, but the experience of my hour and a half in the "Torture Chamber" will be forever burned into my memory, reminding me of how horror never forgets you - so you'd best remember it.

Back to our regular schedule next week!

Film #55: Altered (2006)

Aliens have a raging affair with rednecks.
The lovefools just can’t keep their probes out of those good olde boys.
And who can blame the little green love machines? Just look at those hicks; their jiggling hairy beer bellies; the Kentucky Waterfall greased by years of bath-aversion; the black corn teeth festering behind blistered lips.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, hooooot.

The aliens in this week’s flick, Altered, are no different than their saucer-driving counterparts. Somewhere in the Deep South 15 years ago, five t'ween yokels were abducted by rapey ETs and made into lab gerbils. All but one finally returned, but faced ridicule after explaining their disappearance with tales of prison-tough space men.

The t'ween kept captive the longest by the aliens, Wyatt, decided he had enough of alien-play-time when he got back and self-removed an alien-GPS from his innards. Then, he went into hiding.
The other three survivors made it a habit of returning to their abduction site to try to trap/kill/probe the aliens that turned their lives into a post-traumatic hell.

Call it Southern ingenuity, or just dumb luck, but the SOBs actually managed to capture one of the ferocious Venusians. With pissed off outer space buddies hot on the missing alien’s trail, the rednecks freak out and search for a place to not only hide, but exact their revenge on their alien.
“Let’s take it to Wyatt; he lived with them the longest! He’ll know what to do!” they say.

Wyatt is not very pleased to see his fellow abductees for the first time in years, who have more than just a touch of bad yellow alien blood between them. Kill the alien, Wyatt warns, and other aliens will kill them. And he doesn’t just mean them them, but all of human kind them.
The aliens are so superior, it would be more a slaughter than a war, he warns.

What follows is a tension dance over just what to do with their alien, and later, how to avoid it killing them.

And you thought the government goons in ET were the bad guys. They were just trying to save us from the alien apocalypse! Not so much? Well, yeah, thing is, Altered’s aliens aren’t like ET. They are strong, clawed, telepathic, and don’t like warm-touch fingering humans. Then again, who does?

Will the four intergalactic travelers find the forgiveness and compassion to spare the alien’s life, thereby sparing humanity? Is Wyatt somehow the key to all mankind’s survival? Just what do aliens find so fascinating about human intestines?
Find out, in the 2006 splatter horror/sci-fi film, “Altered.”

RDHP Ratings and Reviews

C-Rating: 4.5
Chris Dimick probes:
“I believe in aliens. There, I said it. And if you believe too, you shouldn’t be ashamed. Science and logic are on our side.
With billions and billions of stars in the universe supporting billions and billions of planets, the chances are more than good that Earth isn’t the only place that has developed intelligent life.

The bigger question people should ask is not if alien life exists, but whether it could travel to Earth. This I also believe is possible, given the right technology (wormholes anyone?).

But why would aliens travel millions of light years across open space, risking life and antennae, just to abduct and study backwoods rednecks? Why don’t they just plop their space ships down on the White House lawn and announce to the world “What up bitches! Let’s party!”

Why do they always seem to just mutilate cattle and rape morons?

The answer is simple: the mullet.

Yes, from Billy Ray to Altered character Duke, the mullet is so enchanting that aliens have come billions of miles to Earth to study it. Who can blame them? The mullet defies all science. There is business in the front, but party out the back! “Illogical,” Spock, an alien, would scream at the sight.

It’s more than a hairstyle, it is a religion and probably the key to all happiness (You never know…). Mullets take patience to grow, dignity to maintain, and hair gel to grease.

A mulleter in the 21st century has to sport chutzpa to rock a glorious mud flap, and are due an examination by an alien race as to their ability to shield all pop culture and preppy distain.

From the outside looking in, the aliens must think of mulleters as our leaders. The haircut screams pure intelligence (why choose between long or short hair when you can have them both) and steadfast resolve to habit.
What can’t a redneck teach the aliens that a Congressman would? Could Obama teach ET to hate other races and chug a 1/5 of Jack?
A direct path to understanding human kind is to “follow the mullet,” as aliens like to say.

In addition to its beautiful display of white trash language and streaming mullets, Altered has even more to offer than an explanation for extraterrestrials efforts. Directed by The Blair Witch Project’s co-creator Eduardo Sánchez, the film packs the edge of Blair Witch while backing up the scare with brilliant special effects.

This was more than just a monster on the loose movie. Pockets of depth lined this premise, with apocalypse undertones and an X-Files type mystery feel to the plot.

The tension hummed steadily as the main players first fought, then defended against the alien. And let’s talk about that alien. He was a badass, a mix between Independence Day’s intelligent war hawks and Predator’s man-rippers.

The piece is pure in its intentions, to scare and disgust in equal measure. But Sanchez never trades effects for story, balancing both among dramatic dialog exchanges and freaky twists. Altered is a fresh take on the scary alien – its tone is like the film “Signs,” but with more punch and bite. Literary, the aliens bite.

Why do aliens abduct rednecks so often? The same reason it was great to watch them in this film.
They are rowdy, spontaneous, foul-mouthed, unintelligent and disorganized… yep, sounds like a representation of mankind to me.”

N-Rating: 4.2
Nick Rich probes:

"It feels strange to say, but who knew mullets could be so refreshingly fun? I genuinely forgot how much fun it is to watch rednecks (and their illustrious plumage) flail around in situations that are way beyond their depth.

First things first: you may notice that Chris and I are quite worked up by the mullet factor in this film... and rightfully so! The mullet is the universal symbol for "you are about to have a rockin' time" and it doesn't take itself seriously, so you can enjoy a guilt-free laugh at its expense (which is truly priceless). Yes, I referred to the mullet as I would a person... if you have a problem with that I suggest you take it up with him.

Now that we have that out of the way, on to Altered! What can I say? It was a fun-filled romp that had just about everything you could want in a sci-fi horror film offering. As mentioned, it is set in the Deep South complete with stereotypical characters, which in other instances might seem clichè, but in this film it truly worked. Chris and I were instantly put at ease with the film once we heard the ornery spewings of the puffed up redneck and witnessed the luscious mullety locks of the lead redneck swaying in the moonlight - it was like going in for a job interview and having the interviewer throw away their question list and instead opt to ask you what you thought of last night's episode of Fringe; instant ease. Needless to say this loosened us up nicely, allowing us to enjoy the ride the remainder of the film would present.

And present it did! I went into this film knowing nothing about it, but somehow assumed that it would be a low-budget film (possibly because of the Blair Witch connection, which makes no sense because that film made like a bajillion dollars) and boy-howdy was I wrong!

The acting was appropriate (except for the girlfriend, who was a bit stiff), the effects were extremely well done (and squirm-worthy!) and the story had a freshness to it. I dug that the story tried to be more than a simple monster mash, but for my money, there were some gaping holes in the logic at times... not enough to make me enjoy the film less, but enough to make Altered fall short of being an A-list film.

But the universe is as it should be, because somehow this film just wouldn't feel right if it were A-list (aka business)... there'd be no room for the party in the back! And while Altered may not be the smartest film in the world, in this case, country don't mean dumb.

The Skinny: Check this flick out if you're in the mood for a workhorse film that will entertain and make you jump... or if you've ever wondered who would win in the coming war between rednecks and aliens."

Things We Learned From Altered:
-If you grow a mullet, you give up the right to be a human.
-Harpoons are ineffectual weapons when hunting aliens.
-Best way to wake up is with a whiskey bottle.
-Hillbillies love guns, “because guns are awesome.”
-Nick thinks the lead actor is comparatively more attractive than his onscreen wife.
-There is nothing worse than infected junk.
-Even in the 21st century, rednecks still love them some Confederacy.
-Human intestines fascinate aliens.
-Beer can disinfect a bear trap wound:

RDHP Salute:

Rednecks!

The mullets! The drinking! The cussing! The stupidity! What’s not to love about rednecks? They are the sons of the Earth, drinking shine and spouting nonsense. Whether you like your rednecks white trash or cowboy, there is a genre for every preppy city-slicker to detest.

Below, we give a random salute to all things redneck, which could serve as a crash course on the species for any aliens reading. All hail rednecks! May your mullets grow long and your sister’s remain doable!

They love guns:

And gittin' dirty:

They outpopulate "normal" people:

Because even their men can get preggers:

They aren't very active in politics:

But can be ingenius when necessary:

Best of all, they know how to really unwind:

YAY FOR REDNECKS!

Film #52: Burnt Offerings (1976)

Some summer vacations just never go right.
First your Great Aunt dies in the car seat next to you somewhere outside Mesa, and you're forced to strap her to your roof.
Then your Dad launches your car 50 yards off an out of order road.
And then, when you finally get to your destination, the house you’ve rented uses demonic spirits to force Dad to nearly drown his wussy son and sexually assault his frigid wife.

Wait, are we getting two movies confused here? That's right, the latter of the aforementioned plots takes place in this week’s scare-spectacle, Burnt Offerings.

The Rolf family thought they had the summer made. The city-slickers stumble upon a summer long vacation package at a historic, sprawling mansion in the countryside that only costs $900.

The place has it all, Olympic size swimming pool, historic gardens, refrigerator filled with meat, and enough dusty rooms to keep any 1970s woman busy cleaning her vacation away. My, they could even bring up their snappy Aunt Elizabeth (played by an ancient Bette Davis) for the adventure.

“I’m waiting for the catch,” says skeptical Rolf patriarch Ben to the mansion-owners (one of which is legend Burgess Meredith).
There is no catch, they claim, unless they are afraid of some housework (they’re charged with fixing up the dump) or mind caring for their shut-in mother who lives in the secluded third floor loft.
But she isn’t a bother at all; the Rolf’s probably won’t even see her once during their four month stay.

They’ll take it, Ben claims! And take it they do, right up the YingYang. It’s not long before their peaceful paradise, charming though completely run down, starts to show it’s a lot dirtier than it seems.

At first, they love cleaning and repairing the old place, stopping to enjoy a cold Coors on the lawn or admire the old-timey photo collections. But then they start to flip their shit, psychologically speaking.

Some pool roughhousing between Ben and his 12-year-old son Davey devolves into Ben uncontrollably trying to drown his spawn.
The next night, while getting frisky near the pool, Ben’s wife Marian changes her mind inexplicitly and screams rape.

But that’s nothing compared to what happens to poor Aunt Elizabeth. The weirdest thing, any time a horrific episode occurs, the family’s suffering seems to cause the house to magically regenerate its rotting shell and grounds!

Could the Rolf’s pain lead to house paint? Will they escape this mysterious, soul-sucking dome? Just what the hell is wrong with Marian's (plastic-surgeryed out Karen Black) face?

Find out, in the 1976’s haunted house horror, “Burnt Offerings.”

RDHP Ratings and Reviews

C-Rating: 3.8
Chris Dimick offers:
“There is always a catch. Always.
Life won’t ever do you any favor’s, kids. If something seems too good to be true – like a beautiful mansion for rent at $900’s 1976-money – then it probably is.

I’d be nice if life was simple. How great'd it be if you could draw out your course, plot A and B, and drive straight through marveling at the passing scenery.

But where would be the fun in that? Trials, detours, heartbreak… that’s what one gets when embarking on life’s road.

The optimists say we should be thankful for such catches. They build character, put things in perspective, and make your desired outcome that much sweeter when preceded by a mouthful of shit.

Burnt Offerings teaches a the true, valuable, unavoidable life lesson of "catch" in pure form. The Rolfs worked hard, earned a wonderful vacation in a country mansion with their young son and spry Aunt. They had it all planned out, and it was going to be flippin’ wonderful. And then life happened.

Though this flick could have been a good 45 minutes shorter and still delivered its message (runtime 1h55min), it did take a tired haunted house format and turn it on its ear a bit. Just enough, actually, to build tension and keep the viewer watching.

You’ll come for the acting legends like Burgess Meredith, Karen Black (above), Oliver Reed and Bette Davis, but you’ll stay for the tone-perfect soundtrack (nearly non-existent, in a good way), well timed scares, and the fun ending.

What’s the catch in watching Burnt Offerings? When you are done, you’ll be 1h55min closer to death. Such is the fact with anything in life. Was it really worth it. Is ANYTHING really worth it?

Ahhhh, THE CATCH.
Embrace it, optimists say. I guess what is the alternative?”

N-Rating: 3.6
Nick Rich offers:

“For my money, there are two things that scare the holly jolly right out of my Christmas stockings:

1. Unexplained children singing in dark, remote woods:

2. Horribly awkward scenes between husbands and wives showing love lost.

Mercifully there were no category 1 type situations in this weeks offering, but to the chagrin of my squeaky seat, there was a decent amount squirming to be had due to category 2 content in Burnt Offerings.

What was it about the 70s that bred films which showcased the horrible, horrible state of affairs a marriage can degrade into? I mean, it's not like there was anything bad happening at that time in history (I mean, when is there ever?). I'm sure my university film prof would wet his pants with excitement at the chance to explain why 70s cinema was so doggone depressing (yeah, I'm talking to you RDHP film #7 Let's Scare Jessica To Death), or as he would probably refer to it as: real.

Bah. Real isn't why people go to the movies, they go to the movies to escape. While a sense of reality can definitely be an asset to any film, as it grounds the characters and makes the film more believable, too much of a good thing (as they say) can be flat out depressing.

Take Synecdoche, New York for example - while not a horror movie per (or any other) se, I propose that it should be classified as such due to the singularly soul-crushingly depressing experience it is to watch the film. Bah! I'm getting depressed just remembering what it was like to watch it!

Maybe in my more emo days that's an experience I would have coveted, but alas, no more.

While Burnt Offerings touched upon the darker side of marriage, it did so merely as an accent to the larger story - akin to a sole violin playing a haunting, recurring theme in a concerto... it doesn't overpower the whole piece, but floats to the top of your consciousness just enough to cause chills. This dash of depression flavored the rest of the film quite nicely as we see a normal family descend into the madness of a subtly desperate situation.

I don't comment on it often, but the acting (save for the 12 year old boy) was quite good and spot on for film such as this. There's something about Oliver Reed that I find incredibly enjoyable to watch, I mean, he's just so British. So British in fact, that it made me overlook the fact that a) he lived in the U.S. (after all he could be a transplant) and b) his 'Auntie' (whom he had presumably grown up with) had an American accent (what the what?!?).

All in all I rather enjoyed this film. It meandered along and doused you with some 70s goodness along the way with surprisingly compelling characters that kept you guessing as to what ghastly fate awaited them at the end of their enchanted vacation. If you're in the mood for a slow boil of 70s horror with a dash of realistic depression, don't hesitate to spend an evening with Burnt Offerings... just be sure not to stay too long.

The Skinny: Check this flick out if you want to learn how to be a creepier B&B owner or if you want to feel better after coming off of a lackluster family vacation."

Things We Learned From Burnt Offerings:
-High-wasted mom jeans are not sexy.
-The underprivileged have never been to the country.
-Never say “Wash off his little hurt cuts” to a boy. It’s pedophile level creepy.
-The British are impossibly rude.
-Auntie just needs to relax at the wheel.
-In the movies, writers have lucrative, glamorous lives.
-Swimming trunks in the 70s were too short.
-Bette Davis looked like a walking corpse near the end.
-1970s women were really trying hard to hold onto the 1950s.
-“Hey Slave!” is not a good thing to say to your vacuuming wife.
-Finding Ding Dongs is a reason to squeal.
-Don’t cry over spilled, or shattered, punch bowls.
-Never use a machete angry:

Quote of the Viewing:
[The opening credits reveal Burnt Offerings was produced by P.E.A. Films. Chris and Nick snicker]

Nick: “P.E.A. Films. Well, this is gonna be a good one.”
Chris: "At least it is not S.H.I.T. Films.”

RDHP Present:

Things that Suck the Life Out of You
Burnt Offerings had a house that sucked the life out of its occupants. Below we examine other things that turn a Suck-and-Cut on your soul.

Cubicals

There is a reason some call them Cubic-hells. Because hell takes place within them.

Cats

Don’t let a cat crawl up on your face while sleeping. You won’t wake up. Seriously, cat’s suck out human souls! Why do you think Garfield’s John is so dead-inside?

Small Talk

How many countless hours are spent in a lifetime listening to information you don't care about, will never use and hope to forget... so, how about this weather we're having?

Television

Ever watch someone while they watch TV. They look like a zombie, sitting motionless for hours, barely blinking while the electronic scream-box drains ones time and life-force. TV’s great and all, but so is Four Loko. Use both moderately, and with caution.

The Morning Commute

We imagine it is what it would be like to wait in line for the executioner in olden times.

Life

Is it ironic that life sucks the life out of you? Maybe, probably not. More than likely that is just stupid. But is it true, yes. There is nothing that makes a person more tired than life.

Kids

One minute you are a 20-something who closes the bar every Friday, talks to four friends a day, and has enough energy left to catch a midnight movie at the local cinema. Then you have kids, and the only energy you have left after working and caring for them every second of your life is reserved for crying yourself to sleep each night. Or so we hear.

Film #26: Eyes Without A Face (1959)

The things we do for beauty.
Feeling his face was missing the perfect “pouty look,” Chris recently had yellow gobs of his own butt fat implanted into his lips. He has told his wife to “kiss his ass” before, but now each morning she actually does!
Nick on the other hand wanted to feel more like a man. He hunted down a Sierra Sasquatch and had the monster’s back hide implanted on his chin. Oh, he has a beastly beard now, but the Bigfoot funk has started to cause blackouts.

Still, these agonizing acts of beautification don’t even come close to the cosmetic catastrophes committed in this week’s flick, “Eyes Without a Face.”

Main character Dr. Genessier is a world class surgeon in suburban Paris, France. But aside from that, the man is quite a mofo. His manic driving results in a car accident that renders his once beautiful daughter Christiane into “Sarah Jessica Parker”-level ugly.
In order to fixy-what-he-brokey, Genessier begins abducting beautiful French women and removing their face meat in the hope of transplanting it onto his disheveled daughter. Mofo actions if I ever saw 'em.

But this never-before performed surgery is harder than the old doc thought. He experiments on stray dogs, but it just isn’t good enough practice. When one human operation fails, it is on to the next mademoiselle and her luscious face.
Right now you are thinking, “Didn’t French doctors actually perform the first face transplant surgery a few years ago?” Yes, they did. It’s quite ironical.

Olde Saw-Face is aided in his belle butchering by assistant nurse Louise, who years ago received a smaller scale stolen mug-transplant herself and feels forever indebted to the doc.
But the cops start to get wise to his kisser-removing killing, and work with a decoy to prove their hunch.

Meanwhile Christiane – who is forced to wear a creepy mask to hide her lasagna face – is starting to crack under the pressure of multiple surgeries and zero results.
It all comes to a “face-off” of epic proportions in 1959’s foreign freak-out, “Eyes Without a Face.”

RDHP Ratings and Reviews

C-Rating: 2.9
Chris Dimick mumbles:
“This movie is just a pretty face. It may look stunning, but inside is an empty, boring soul that provides little substance. Behind the beautiful cinematography capturing Paris and its suburbs, and the sweeping camera shifts through Genessier's winding mansion, this movie's guts fail to deliver anything of interest or meaning.

I’ll admit, the extensive face-removal scenes had me squiring in my seat (it's just so... ewwww). As did the psychotic apathy I felt in relation to the face-stolen women who went mad after realizing their injuries. But when it comes down to it, this one was just nice to date but never to marry.

We equate our face with our identity. In some aspects, it is the most important part of our bodies. It the place people first look (unless you are Sheyla Hershey), associate with, and usually is the most distinguishing feature of a person. This movie cuts into the fear we all hold about disfigurement and becoming a social outcast. In a way, the women lost more than their face, but also their identity. They weren't outright killed physically, but they didn’t have to be. Genessier took their life away when he removed the skin that covered their facial muscles.

Okay, I get it. The movie was somewhat deep. Losing one's face, but living to mumble the tale through skinned lips -- now that is horror. But this point wasn't drilled home enough to rouse the soul. Once again, this movie was the victim of slow filler shots that were added for beauty, but just dragged down the film into mediocrity.

It doesn’t take a lot of gore or spooks for a movie to be scary if it can tap into latent, universal fears. Eyes Without a Face tries to tap into this, but only manages to get barely skin deep.

If you watched me during this movie, you would have seen MY face read “grossed-out, bored, briefly intrigued, and then disappointed.”

N-Rating: 2.1
Nick Rich mumbles:

"How can I best describe how I felt about this film? Well, as it was a French film, let me utilize my mastery of the language of romance to appropriately reveal my thoughts: LE BOO! Continuing the downward spiral Vampyr began a few weeks ago, Eyes Without A Face was a disappointing European entry into the RDHP. Not that bad movies are anything new to the RDHP at this point, but for me, because of the strong showing European films made at the beginning of the project I find myself judging ones that don't make the cut a bit more harshly.

Don't get me wrong, there was plenty to like about this film: dudes that looked so French you could smell surrender on them, creepy waifs wandering around in life-like masks (did I mention she was creepy?), and eerily realistic mad scientist surgery scenes.
All of which are great additions to a horror film (especially the creepy mask - because the film was shot in black and white there were scenes where you could barely tell it was a mask, it just felt 'off' when you saw the character - creepy) but the slow pace in Eyes Without A Face ended up stealing the thunder of these cool gimmicks.

If done right, a meandering pace can create a great buildup which makes the film all the more engaging... but in this case, while I found myself appreciating the cool gimmicks, it was such a leisurely route to get there I ended up not really caring (for the most part) once they were actually happening. This kind of deflating pacing makes a film difficult for me to watch and frankly made it difficult for me to stay awake during the film (in its defense I was up late the night before catching up on Lost).

Sadly, this film took itself too seriously, as stereotypically French films do. I'm surprised there wasn't a crying clown in the background of one of the shots... or was there? Maybe I missed it as my head bobbed down, desperately battling slumber.

The Skinny: Watch this flick if you're in the mood to feel smart but not be entertained... or if counting sheep just isn't working."

What We Learned From Watching "Eyes Without a Face":
-Dogs don't like being operated on.
-All French cars look the same -- stupid.
-Say what you want about the French, but they have excellent vocab.
-Sometimes you just have to slap a bitch.
-Even doctors love to smoke in Paris.
-Beautiful girls never go to prison.
-Being dead is better than being ugly (below):

Quote of the Viewing:
[Faceless Christiane wanders away from her home and support network, and frolics off alone into the sunset]
Nick: "What is she going to do now? How will she survive?"
Chris: "Well, she'd be one hell of a poker player!"

RDHP Presents:

Others Without a Face

While disfigured Christiane in this film wanted nothing more than a new mug, she's not the only one living a faceless existence. Here we present other people and things that lack a face.

Mannequins

Most don't have faces, excluding those in awesome 1980s movies.

Darkman

You don't want to see what he's got hiding under there.

"Faceless People"
Remember this viral marketing bit from 2008, all these faceless a-holes turning up at British high-society events. Turns out it was all just a stunt... to sell cars.

The Invisible Man

No face, and no body at all!

Facebook

Despite its name, Internet Web sites still can't have faces. Nor can books. We don't get it.

This Thing

We don't know what it is, but we just crapped ourselves over it.

The Smoke Monster
Sure, it can create faces, but its pure form is truly faceless. Kinda of a stretch we know... we just miss Lost (tear).

The Question
If you don't have the answers, you may not be asking the right questions -
like why doesn't he have a face?




Evil

The face of evil is always shifting, which makes it anonymous. If it can be anything and everything, we have to say that its faceless.

The RDHP Presents:

Top Reasons to Wear a Mask

In order to hide her hideous honker, Christiane donned a pretty creeptastic mask. What are a few other reasons one would put on a face-cover? I wonder?

You are a homicidal killer

The feeling of hot latex rattles your rocks

It's Carnivale!

You're fugly

The sex party requires them

You're feeling kitty-tastic!

You're addicted to fame,
body hair removal,
and baby oil!