Editorials
00’s Retrospect: Ryan Daley Reflects Back on the Year 2000
Y2K, 9/11, war and a a horrid recession, a major escape we had this decade was in the form of film, notorious for thriving during National crisis. Leading up to New Year’s Eve where we’ll ring in 2010, Bloody Disgusting will be looking back at the entire decade year by year through the eyes of various staff writers. Check back each day for a profound reflection from Ryan Daley, David Harley, Tex, BC and yours truly. Inside you’ll find Ryan Daley’s look back at the year 2000. Please share your memories for each year below, there are so many stories to be told!
’00 | ’01 | ’02 | ’03 | ’04 | ’05 | ’06 | ’07 | ’08 | ’09
More Retrospects:
-Top 20 Films of the Decade: 21-16 | 15-11 | 10-6 | 5-1
-Dead on Arrival: Ten Horror Duds of the Last Decade
2000
Which makes it even harder to explain the gran guignol excesses of Final Destination, what I consider to be one of the more influential horror movies of the past 10 years. I was simultaneously shocked and amused by the vast amount of carnage, much of it mean-spirited and primarily directed at innocent characters. Although horror movies that glorify the villain aren’t uncommon, Final Destination pared that concept down to its very core. In FD there was no villain, no hooded man with a scythe, no crazy ex-wrestler out to waste some teens. There is only death. Sudden, gruesome, unavoidable death. With its brutally elaborate kill scenes and gleeful sense of exploitation, Final Destination represented the first stirrings of the grue wave movement that would spawn later movies like Saw and Hostel. American horror cinema hasn’t looked back since.
Back in 2000 I was living in a dinky studio apartment near the university, taking film classes at night. One lonely Friday evening, I called a weed dealer for a house call, only to have him camp at my apartment for two hours because I happened to be watching Pitch Black right when he showed up. He walked in as the space transport Hunter-Gratzner, carrying murderous convict Richard B. Riddick (Vin Diesel), was burning through the atmosphere of an unidentified desert planet. And the weed guy couldn’t tear himself away. His phone rang every 5 minutes for about an hour, but after I cracked open a package of Chewy Chips Ahoy, he finally just switched it off. It pains me to imagine how many people had to go without doobage that night, all due to the captivating, mind-numbing power of Pitch Black.
In the case of Takashi Miike’s Audition, it was the burlap sack that got me. I think that 30-second hallway scene sums up everything that is awesome about horror. I rented a copy soon after its DVD release, and I watched it alone. Considering its infamous reputation, I was completely surprised to find myself watching a relationship drama, at least for the 45 minutes. Middle-aged widower meets cute model-type at fake audition, love ensues. But soon after the halfway mark, Miike’s movie blew my mind as it suddenly transformed into a gut-wrenching, eye-stabbing torture flick. The previously mentioned “burlap sack” scene merely serves as the tipping point to a grisly finale that haunted me for months.
When I read Bret Easton Ellis` novel American Psycho, it was like a kick in the nuts. It took my breath away. It made me want to barf on the sidewalk. Some chapters left me with brief bouts of diarrhea. To this day American Psycho remains the most offensive book I’ve ever read. Everybody has their line, and I suppose mine was crossed when a starving rat was jammed into a helpless vagina. Cruelly sadistic to the point of unforgivable, unforgettable perversion, Ellis’ exercise in calculated deviance follows self-absorbed yuppie Patrick Bateman through his daily routine of facial moisturizers and bloody murder. The final third of Ellis’ sick novel invites the reader to share Bateman’s lust for pain through several abhorrently-detailed torture scenes that stretch on for page after page after page. I sensed there was a satire buried somewhere under all the ugliness, but frankly, I just didn’t get it.
I watched Mary Harron`s film adaptation very reluctantly, but thankfully, she turned me around. With the help of a sardonic script and a charismatic central performance by Christian Bale, I was finally able to get a sense of what Ellis was going for in his novel. As a yuppie businessman living in the 1980s, Patrick Bateman knows his status will be determined by how well he blends in with his peers and co-workers. But by constantly focusing on being the same as everyone else, he denies a deep inner self that can only be expressed through ravenous acts of violence. Or maybe it’s all in his head. Either way, the movie was about a billion times better than the book would ever hope to be.
Back in the late 90s, I thought Robert Zemeckis was a hell of a director. But that was before he sold his soul to cartoons. As a rock-hard fan of Contact and Forrest Gump, I was curious about the what he would bring to the table as the man behind What Lies Beneath, an old-fashioned Hollywood horror flick. In terms of tone and structure, I thought that Zemeckis’ film bore a striking similarity to 1988’s Lady in White, another rare success in the world of PG-13 horror. With its increasingly tense set-pieces, What Lies Beneath served as a textbook example of how to successfully sustain suspense through an entire feature-length film. With every passing scene, it became more and more obvious that Zemeckis knew exactly what he was doing. I’ll probably catch hell for saying this, but I’ve always wanted to see what he would do with the Suspiria remake.
And who can forget the one-two punch of Winona Ryder and Kim Basinger attempting to choke out their respective careers with Lost Souls and Bless the Child? Both films were studio releases with respectable budgets, and both films currently rank on Rotten Tomatoes’ Worst of the Worst List. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that these movies are greenlit by people who are sober.
Also Worth Remembering: Ginger Snaps, Anatomy, The Cell, The Gift, Versus
Editorials
‘Leprechaun Returns’ – The Charm of the Franchise’s Legacy Sequel
The erratic Leprechaun franchise is not known for sticking with a single concept for too long. The namesake (originally played by Warwick Davis) has gone to L.A., Las Vegas, space, and the ‘hood (not once but twice). And after an eleven-year holiday since the Davis era ended, the character received a drastic makeover in a now-unmentionable reboot. The critical failure of said film would have implied it was time to pack away the green top hat and shillelagh, and say goodbye to the nefarious imp. Instead, the Leprechaun series tried its luck again.
The general consensus for the Leprechaun films was never positive, and the darker yet blander Leprechaun: Origins certainly did not sway opinions. Just because the 2014 installment took itself seriously did not mean viewers would. After all, creator Mark Jones conceived a gruesome horror-comedy back in the early nineties, and that format is what was expected of any future ventures. So as horror legacy sequels (“legacyquels”) became more common in the 2010s, Leprechaun Returns followed suit while also going back to what made the ‘93 film work. This eighth entry echoed Halloween (2018) by ignoring all the previous sequels as well as being a direct continuation of the original. Even ardent fans can surely understand the decision to wipe the slate clean, so to speak.
Leprechaun Returns “continued the [franchise’s] trend of not being consistent by deciding to be consistent.” The retconning of Steven Kostanski and Suzanne Keilly’s film was met with little to no pushback from the fandom, who had already become accustomed to seeing something new and different with every chapter. Only now the “new and different” was familiar. With the severe route of Origins a mere speck in the rearview mirror, director Kotanski implemented a “back to basics” approach that garnered better reception than Zach Lipovsky’s own undertaking. The one-two punch of preposterous humor and grisly horror was in full force again.
With Warwick Davis sitting this film out — his own choice — there was the foremost challenge of finding his replacement. Returns found Davis’ successor in Linden Porco, who admirably filled those blood-stained, buckled shoes. And what would a legacy sequel be without a returning character? Jennifer Aniston obviously did not reprise her final girl role of Tory Redding. So, the film did the next best thing and fetched another of Lubdan’s past victims: Ozzie, the likable oaf played by Mark Holton. Returns also created an extension of Tory’s character by giving her a teenage daughter, Lila (Taylor Spreitler).
It has been twenty-five years since the events of the ‘93 film. The incident is unknown to all but its survivors. Interested in her late mother’s history there in Devil’s Lake, North Dakota, Lila transferred to the local university and pledged a sorority — really the only one on campus — whose few members now reside in Tory Redding’s old home. The farmhouse-turned-sorority-house is still a work in progress; Lila’s fellow Alpha Epsilon sisters were in the midst of renovating the place when a ghost of the past found its way into the present.
The Psycho Goreman and The Void director’s penchant for visceral special effects is noted early on as the Leprechaun tears not only into the modern age, but also through poor Ozzie’s abdomen. The portal from 1993 to 2018 is soaked with blood and guts as the Leprechaun forces his way into the story. Davis’ iconic depiction of the wee antagonist is missed, however, Linden Porco is not simply keeping the seat warm in case his predecessor ever resumes the part. His enthusiastic performance is accentuated by a rotten-looking mug that adds to his innate menace.
The obligatory fodder is mostly young this time around. Apart from one luckless postman and Ozzie — the premature passing of the latter character removed the chance of caring about anyone in the film — the Leprechaun’s potential prey are all college aged. Lila is this story’s token trauma kid with caregiver baggage; her mother thought “monsters were always trying to get her.” Lila’s habit of mentioning Tory’s mental health problem does not make a good first impression with the resident mean girl and apparent alcoholic of the sorority, Meredith (Emily Reid). Then there are the nicer but no less cursorily written of the Alpha Epsilon gals: eco-conscious and ex-obsessive Katie (Pepi Sonuga), and uptight overachiever Rose (Sai Bennett). Rounding out the main cast are a pair of destined-to-die bros (Oliver Llewellyn Jenkins, Ben McGregor). Lila and her peers range from disposable to plain irritating, so rooting for any one of them is next to impossible. Even so, their overstated personalities make their inevitable fates more satisfying.
Where Returns excels is its death sequences. Unlike Jones’ film, this one is not afraid of killing off members of the main cast. Lila, admittedly, wears too much plot armor, yet with her mother’s spirit looming over her and the whole story — comedian Heather McDonald put her bang-on Aniston impersonation to good use as well as provided a surprisingly emotional moment in the film — her immunity can be overlooked. Still, the other characters’ brutal demises make up for Lila’s imperviousness. The Leprechaun’s killer set-pieces also happen to demonstrate the time period, seeing as he uses solar panels and a drone in several supporting characters’ executions. A premortem selfie and the antagonist’s snarky mention of global warming additionally add to this film’s particular timestamp.
Critics were quick to say Leprechaun Returns did not break new ground. Sure, there is no one jetting off to space, or the wacky notion of Lubdan becoming a record producer. This reset, however, is still quite charming and entertaining despite its lack of risk-taking. And with yet another reboot in the works, who knows where the most wicked Leprechaun ever to exist will end up next.
Horror contemplates in great detail how young people handle inordinate situations and all of life’s unexpected challenges. While the genre forces characters of every age to face their fears, it is especially interested in how youths might fare in life-or-death scenarios.
The column Young Blood is dedicated to horror stories for and about teenagers, as well as other young folks on the brink of terror.
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