Stephen Mark Rainey's Blog, page 108

Bridges, Bottles, and Photobombs in Bethania

It was another excellent day on the geocaching trail with Robgso (a.k.a. Rob), Cupdaisy (a.k.a. Shoffner), and Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott), this time primarily in Bethania, a tiny historical community a few miles northwest of the Winston-Salem. As often happens with caching, we ended up in settings that can inspire some of my best and creepiest horror tales. Not that the locations themselves are necessarily spooky, but they're isolated, dilapidated, and old, and they lend themselves to all kinds of morbid imaginings, at least when, as a writer, you specialize in the Frighten-Your-Neighbors-and-Their-Children-to-Death department. Of course, in certain company, it's pretty difficult to work up a good scare because shenanigans tend to overshadow all else. Witness the image just below. I'm trying to take a picture of a hidden, crumbling, overgrown old bridge above a watery gorge, and somebody up and photobombs it. I mean, that's gauche. Isn't that gauche?
This Old Trail Dawg photobombs "This Old Bridge"Bethania was the first organized Moravian settlement in North Carolina, dating back to 1759, and it is currently designated as a National Historic Landmark. As soon as you hit the trails here, you are surrounded by an atmosphere of antiquity, the woods full of crumbling, rusting relics of days gone by — most not going back to the 18th century, but some of it certainly prior to my time on this earth. There are numerous old structures long fallen to ruin; bricks, stones, and fixtures from houses and buildings that collapsed or were demolished some untold number of years ago; impressive geologic formations; and dark ponds and marshes which one can easily imagine being inhabited by all kinds of mysterious, primordial entities. I expect that H. P. Lovecraft would have been quite taken with the setting.

Our favorite location — at least for some of us — was at a cache called "Fuse Box" (GC5MRW7), the search for which led us up a massive, rounded hill, where we found at the top a number of old, half-demolished structures that looked as if they had succumbed to an assault by the Dunwich Horror. We didn't find any bodies, dammit, though we did come upon a refrigerator — this of relatively recent vintage — bearing the spray-painted message "Fuck the World." I can only expect this was the last statement of some poor victim who was annoyed by the unknown horror's very rude rampage. The main house was a pile of wreckage, as seen below, while a few of the smaller outbuildings remained in relatively decent repair, although we didn't venture too far into most of them for fear they might be full of shenanigans. Kind of in that vein, a short distance from the wreckage, someone had lined up, in semi-meticulous fashion, a number of blue glass bottles. Collectible, for all I know, though I collected none of them, preferring to leave them in place for the next unsuspecting witnesses to enjoy.
I had nothing to do with this, I swears it. Feeling blue?As far as the caching itself went, we enjoyed it mightily. We got to climb gnarly old rotten trees, scale cliffs like mountain goats, and leaf-surf down frighteningly steep hillsides yelling "cowabunga!" At one cache, which turned out to be hidden in a tree trunk right about eye level, both Rob and I circled it several times without seeing it; when I finally did, I yelled, "Fucking snake!" because, if it had been one, I'd have been chomped but good. Speaking of snakes, Rob and I apparently walked right by a big black one without seeing it, whereas Scott and Shoffner took photos. I do like black snakes. Classy animals. And then, out there in the middle of the woods, we ran into some little statue dude coming out of the ground. Not sure why, but it struck me as kind of an asshole thing to do, to come up out of the ground like that. Scott agreed, as he rightly should; not sure about our other compatriots. Anyway, we passed the little guy by and went on about our caching.

We had a decent, rather late lunch at the Muddy Creek Cafe. All in all, it was good. A very good day — even with the shenanigans and little stone assholes.
We were really cooking today. Someone was feeling pretty, witty, and wise. A random little asshole we encountered in the woods

The Civil War Trail, Bigfoot, and More

Was that Bigfoot I heard back there?Last night, I had to head up to Martinsville to help Mum with her taxes, but, fortuitously, this put me in the middle of some prime territory for new geocaches, including several in the recently published Civil War Trail series (see "Challenges, Stars, and Civil War Trails," March 8, 2015). My first stop was the Richard P. Gravely Nature Preserve, just east of town, where I have hidden several caches of my own. There was a new one there — GC5PR16 — which has yet to be found, and, unfortunately, I couldn't find the damned thing after a long and arduous search amid a massive forest of mountain laurel, on a hillside high and steep enough to potentially send me sliding, rolling, and/or hurtling a couple of hundred feet down to the Smith River. I didn't fall, though I did get bruised, beat up, and lacerated by the dense and overtly hostile foliage, and I'm thinking, from the mysterious sounds I heard, that some beastly, cryptozoological horror must have been watching me the entire two hours I was out there. No doubt I'll go back and torture myself again, and even if I don't find the cache, maybe this time I'll actually spot Bigfoot.
A wee spot of geocaching battle damage
Today's caching outing proved far more successful. I set my sights on Eden, NC, for several newer ones, including three in the Civil War Trail series. I've been quite enjoying these, as they take you to numerous historic areas around the state, and in the Piedmont Triad, many of them are quite scenic. Today I returned to the site of a couple of older, now-archived caches, the Leaksville Cotton Mill, originally built in 1839, of which all that remains is the stone foundation next to a small dam on the Smith River. Then I was off to the Wentworth Methodist Church graveyard, where many of the graves date back to the mid 1800s, with several prominent local figures from the Civil War buried there. Today, no DNFs, and some exceedingly pleasant hiking.

Soon, it will be wine time. Yes.
A view of the Smith River from the Gravely Nature Preserve One of the many tunnels of mountain laurel along the Smith River at the Gravely Nature Preserve Just above the dam on the Smith River at the Leaksville Cotton Mill in Eden, NC A serene, picturesque graveyard behind the Wentworth Methodist Church on the Civil War Trail

When the Stars Came to Town and Others

Suntigres on locationOver the past few decades, quite a few movies have been made here in North Carolina's Piedmont region — several being of the spooky persuasion — including the upcoming The Disappointments Room , starring Kate Beckinsale, Gerald McRaney, Michaela Conlin, and Lucas Til, directed by D. J. Caruso ( Disturbia ), and written by Caruso and Wentworth Miller ( Stoker , Prison Break ). Other titles include Hellraiser III , Children of the Corn II , and The Killers Three . The thriving film industry has been a boon for the state's coffers, countless businesses, and numerous otherwise economically depressed communities, but — most unfortunately — our current legislature, which is composed of some of the densest boneheads this planet has seen since the days of the Pachycephalosaurus, has opted to kill the tax incentive programs that brought so many productions out our way. My contempt for these vile cretins hardly stems from this issue alone, but thank your lucky stars, I have other reasons for writing this blog today. I'm writing because — you guessed it — a nice little series of geocaches recently came out that commemorates some of the eclectic cinematic treasures that have come out of the North Carolina's Piedmont, and today was the perfect day to go after them, and quite a few others, with my frequent caching partner, Ms. Suntigres (a.k.a. Bridget).


There are three caches placed around the little town of Ramseur, located along the Deep River River in Randolph County, where scenes from The Disappointments Room , Children of the Corn II , and The Killers Three were filmed, each cache bearing the name of one of those films and containing specific information that lead to a final cache called "When the Stars Came to Town" (GC5NZ2X). I've never seen The Killers Three , and I don't think I've ever seen Children of the Corn II , but you can bet I am now inclined to check out both of them — as well as The Disappointments Room when it comes out in September. Ramseur is a picturesque, tiny community that has retained most of the finest — and, unfortunately, some of the worst — aspects of mid-20th-century southern America, a situation too often brought on by prolonged economic hardship. However, The Disappointment Room promises to showcase the community's most atmospheric and character-laden side, which I have been fortunate enough to experience first-hand during my years of geocaching. It was a true pleasure to return there today and complete the "When the Stars Came to Town" series, which was put together by the classy and altogether mysterious lady known as "Sull427."


Our run through Randolph County today proved a good one in all respects, not only because of the "Stars" series — which was, in fact, the highlight of the day — but because we found a wealth of high-quality caches without a single DNF (Did Not Find) log, including a particular hide that took me into one of my favorite geocaching locations: the deep, dark pits of hell that run underneath the daylight world that most of you probably prefer. Throw in a fabulous Mexican lunch and, at the end of the day, drinks at a nice little place called The Smokehouse Bistro in Liberty. To me, this is pretty much what geocaching is all about.

See you at the movies.
Something's...coming.... Oh... It's just that dude. Suntigres's screen test?

Neither Rain, nor Rain, nor Rain...

...can deter a devoted old fart geocacher from grabbing a couple of first-to-finds on Pi Day. There are umpteen 3-14-15 celebrations happening everywhere today, most involving serious amounts of pie, and for geocachers, there were numerous caching events to choose from. For me, the nearest was in Reidsville, and since a couple of new trail caches in the area had been published yesterday, it looked like the best target for the day. I decided the hell with the rain — which had been coming down non-stop all day — I will go hiking. (Sometimes I am known for being more tenacious than bright.) One of the caches is called "At Least It's Not a Stinking Puzzle Cache" (GC5PA44) and I have it on good authority that I'm at least partly responsible for the title. Well, yeah.... What with all the puzzle caches that have recently come out, requiring far more time deciphering shit on the computer than actually getting out there and geocaching, I made a few less-than-veiled threats to certain identical twin cache owners. You know, stuff like, "I'm going to kill the both of you in my upcoming horror story" (and even worse, "I'm not going to kill the both of you in my upcoming horror story"). To miss out on a first-to-find on this cache would have been lame, so I'm kind of glad all the other local geocachers were brighter than me and opted not to go hiking in the woods in the rain.

The event, hosted by the redoubtable 3Newsomes, turned out to be well attended and quite enjoyable. I won a pie at one of the contests. A great big delicious fresh apple pie. Kimberly's coming around for dinner soon, so if she's really nice, perhaps I'll share. But it's going to take some kind of nice.

I hope you got some pie too.

Challenges, Stars, and Civil War Trails

Lord have mercy, after several weekends of ice, snow, freezing rain, and frigid wind, we finally had a weekend suitable for getting back out on the caching trail. I didn't add a huge number to my total find count, but there were several miles of enjoyable hiking and some top-quality hides in the bunch. For several weeks, I've been trying to solve a monstrously challenging puzzle to get coordinates for a cache called "North by Northwest" (GC5MJ0T) in Reidsville, and I finally managed it on Friday. After work, I met 3Newsomes (a.k.a. Shannon), who had also solved the puzzle about the same time as I, and we finally tackled the beast. We won, by God, and yes, that is special. An excellent dinner at a lovely Irish Pub called the Celtic Fringe with Mrs. 3Newsomes and Ms. Brugger followed. The Welsh Dragon burger, with blazing ghost pepper sauce, was just the ticket for a Japanese giant radioactively mutated flying rubber reptile.
A big ol' tree, reportedly over 300 years old,
along the hiking trail
Saturday morning, it was back to Reidsville with Mr. Newsome and Tbbiker (a.k.a Todd) to find an enjoyable series of six caches at Lake Reidsville, each of which required having met specific criteria to qualify. Happily, I qualified for all. We were first to find four of the six; along the way, we ran into Cary Owl, a cacher from Cary, over near Raleigh-Durham, who had started at the opposite end of the loop trail and picked up first-to-finds on the other two. Always nice to meet friendly cachers out on the trail. Then, after I got home and was logging my finds, notifications for a new Civil War cache series that's been placed all around the state began arriving in my email. I expected they'd be popping up at some time or another, and — sure enough — one of them was only four miles from home. I knew exactly where it would be, so I buzzed down there and picked up another first-to-find. A right happy day of it, all things considered.

This morning, Team Old Fart — Robgso, Rtmlee, Diefenbaker, and old Rodan — headed out for Danville, a little bleary eyed after the frappin' change to Daylight Saving Time. We had a score to settle with the Virginia Star series caches, which we had completed — but for a couple of the 50 caches — back in January. I had returned for one of them, but this was the chance for the lot of us to pick up that last stubborn, devious little miscreant of a micro two miles down from the trailhead. Naturally, we walked right to it and found it precisely where we had searched so diligently the first time out. I won't say much about any old guys being blind as bats, although mention the cache name "Lost Your Marbles" to us, and at least one of our number will start frothing at the mouth and grumbling obscenities.

The day's favorite was probably "Zip Cache" (GC5MTFB) by a wonderfully talented cacher bearing the name "Klaussinator." Like most of his hides, this one was quite novel and involved not falling down a very steep hill, which some of us just barely managed. We also picked up an unexpected first-to-find at a new cache that was published while we were only a few miles away. That one required some extra work because the coordinates were off, but in the end, our signatures were in the log, the truth was in the box, and I came home looking like a porcupine, what with all the briers stuck in me.

I sleep now.
Scary writer-cacher dude, Cary Owl, one of 3Newsomes Oh, crap, that chimney just ate Shannon's head.

The Bloody Pit of Horror

There's no denying it — the dreaded Drive-In Horror Movie Syndrome has seized me in its unbreakable clutches and forced me, against my will, to sit, watch, and revel in the delight of yet another monstrous melodrama from those far-off days of cinematic yore. In my recent review of Goké, Body Snatcher From Hell , I mentioned The Bloody Pit of Horror , which comprised the second half of the double bill that came round to the 220 Drive-In Theater in Martinsville, VA, sometime in 1977. I was 17 or 18 years old at the time, when horror double features were still a mainstay of the outdoor theater circuit. For me, Goké was an unsettling, jaw-dropping, mind-blowing experience; after that, The Bloody Pit was just another romp through the hallowed halls of cheap, garish horror. It's a 1965 Italian offering, made on a shoestring budget, ostensibly based on the works of the Marquis de Sade. It stars Mickey Hargitay (former Mr. Universe, husband of Jayne Mansfield, and father of Mariska Hargitay, of Law & Order SVU fame; Walter Brandi; Luisa Baratto; Alfredo Rizzo; Barbara Nelli; Moa Tahi; Femi Benussi; and Ralph Zucker (I bet you know all these folks on sight, right?). It's about a book publisher and his crew who visit what they believe to be a deserted castle in the remote Italian countryside, which they intend to use as the backdrop for bunch of cover photographs featuring scantily clad models in various S & M poses, complete with authentic medieval torture devices.

Little do these lovely people know the castle is actually inhabited by a retired, reclusive actor named Travis Anderson (Hargitay), who loathes trespassers. He orders them to depart, but then he recognizes one of the girls, whose name is Edith (Luisa Baratto), and his attitude abruptly changes. He apologizes for his rudeness and permits the crew to remain. Their good fortune, however, turns to the ultimate misfortune, for Travis believes he is the reincarnation of the Crimson Executioner, a 17th-century master of torture and death who was himself executed for his crimes against humanity, and he wastes no time demonstrating his affinity for antisocial behavior. His first victim is Perry (Nando Angelini), one of the models, who is bound on a "Pit and the Pendulum"–style killing device, which, despite the crew's "modification," actually works as it was originally intended. However, rather than flee from the castle and alert the authorities, boss publisher Max (Alfredo Rizzo) demands that work on their project continue. Before long, we have several more murder victims — one stabbed to death in a version of an Iron Maiden, another having his spine snapped, another getting an arrow through the neck. Edith reveals to photographer Rick (Walter Brandi) that she was once engaged to Travis, who was a muscle man in costume films and was, by her claim, "a little weird."
Finding the castle has been sealed off, the surviving crew members begin looking for ways to escape. In the process, Rick finds model Kinojo (Moa Tahi) shackled in an elaborate, gigantic spiderweb and menaced by a mechanical spider, whose fangs have been designed to inject poison. Although the web is rigged to release arrows at anyone who attempts to make his way past it, Rick valiantly endeavors to rescue Kinojo. He avoids tripping any arrows, but he is an instant too late to save the girl. The spider "bites" her, and she dies instantly.
Rick's attempt to save Kinojo proves a crucial diversion, for Travis now grabs Edith and takes her to the dungeons below the castle, which once belonged to the original Crimson Executioner himself. The rest of the survivors have also been rounded up here, and Travis begins to gleefully torture each one of them — one on the rack, another made to endure Chinese water torture, another scalded by boiling oil. Travis reserves the worst for Max, who is trapped inside a metal cage and burned alive. Travis chains Edith to a device that is something of an inverse of the Brazen Bull — the victim being bound atop the bull while a fire is lit inside it. But before the executioner can finish off his former fiancée, Rick appears and engages Travis in a physical fight. He is hopelessly outmatched, but in a stunning display of brains over brawn, Rick maneuvers himself behind a mannequin with lethal spikes protruding from its torso, and in his zeal to attack, Travis impales himself, thus ending, once and for all, the Crimson Executioner's reign of terror.

For a movie that, on the surface, appears to be little more than a vehicle for one gory death after another, very little graphic violence actually makes its way to the screen — most of it is merely suggested, taking place off-camera, or achieved with props so unconvincing you wonder the actors didn't cackle themselves themselves to death. Budgetary constraints allowed for little alternative, and in fairness, some of the scenes, such as the spiderweb torture chamber, manage some degree of amusing novelty. By never taking itself very seriously, The Bloody Pit of Horror , for all its depictions of depravity, by today's standards comes across as pretty good-natured. The cast members, most of whom act about as well as I do on a bender, appear to be having a fine time for the camera, which I hope is true, since they couldn't have been paid very much for this project. Mickey Hargitay, with his cinema strong man status, couldn't be much more apt for the role of a madman consumed by vanity and psychotic cruelty. He plays the part with real enthusiasm, fittingly garbed in wrestler's tights and theatrical executioner's mask.

If there's anything about this movie I really love, it's the music score by Gino Peguri. It's so very Italian and so very 1960s — lyrical, lounge-lizard music worthy of Martin Denny or Les Baxter. With its bossa nova beat, cooing female vocalist, and warbling organ, the frequently used main theme is so serene that its contrast with the mock violence on-screen is almost surreal — kind of like getting a gentle neck massage while your house is collapsing around you.

The Something Weird Video DVD, which I rented from Netflix, features several deleted scenes, which provide a little extra fun; in fact, it's quite a shame they were deleted to begin with. One of them addresses perhaps the most inexplicable moment in the movie: Max's adamant refusal to stop work and call the authorities after the first violent death. It's pretty lame, but even that is an improvement on the scene as it stands. Model and first murder victim Perry (Nando Angelini), who mostly runs around the set dressed in a skeleton costume, gets a bit more screen time than in the final cut, and he appears to be having the best time of anyone on the set. For the deleted scenes alone, I recommend the Something Weird Video DVD release over other options, though the movie can be viewed in its entirety on YouTube for free.

Without question, The Bloody Pit of Horror is one bloody bad pit but a pretty good hoot, so it is absolutely spot-on for satiating the most fearsome hunger pangs brought on by the dreaded Drive-In Horror Movie Syndrome. If you happen start feeling them yourself, do check out this movie.

Night of the Damned Big Burning Heat

If you read my review of Goké, Body Snatcher From Hell the other day, you might have inferred that I have been afflicted recently with Drive-In Horror Movie Syndrome, and there's a better-than-average chance you would be correct. Today was a good day to succumb to this malady because last night's significant snowfall resulted in the office having to close. So, between rounds of working on a new short story, I settled in to watch Island of the Burning Damned (Planet Productions, a.k.a. Island of the Burning Doomed , a.k.a. Night of the Big Heat, the latter being the title of the original 1959 novel by John Lymington), which I had actually never seen before. It was released in the U.K. in 1967, paired with Planet Productions' Island of Terror , but it didn't reach our shores until 1971, when Maron Films released it on a double bill with Godzilla's Revenge — surely one of the most mismatched roadshows ever. Like Island of Terror (which I reviewed here, back in 2008), this movie does its best to masquerade as a Hammer horror film, with Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing starring and Terence Fisher directing, though Cushing's role is surprisingly small. While ostensibly a science-fiction movie, Island of the Burning Damned more resembles the era's ubiquitous gothic horror films, with believable science in short supply and melodrama in excess.

There will be spoilers....

We open on a promising note, the setting being established as a small island, called Fara, off the coast of Scotland, so that the main characters are effectively isolated once things turn ugly. They turn ugly pretty quickly, for though it's wintertime, an intense, unnatural heatwave has overtaken the island. Foreshadowed by the effective use of sound effects that create an effective atmosphere of dread, not unlike 1958's Fiend Without a Face , several islanders are killed, burned to death by some unknown entity. Dr. Godfrey Hanson (Christopher Lee), a brusque stranger from the mainland who is staying at an inn owned by novelist Jeff Callum (Patrick Allen) and his wife Frankie (Sarah Lawson), takes an unusual interest in the bizarre killings but refuses to explain himself to any of the locals. Meanwhile, an exceptionally attractive young hussy named Angela Roberts (Jane Merrow) arrives on the island claiming to be Callum's new secretary, but as it turns out, she is a skeleton from the not-so-distant past that Callum would rather have kept in the closet. Angela makes a number of unsubtle amorous overtures toward Callum, which he is unable to resist. Further demonstrating her lack of class, she audaciously tells Frankie the truth about her husband, only to take it all back, passing off her "confession" as an angry response to the unnatural heat and her own profound loneliness. Frankie graciously forgives the young woman, only to soon witness her in Callum's arms during (another) moment of weakness.

The heat plays hell with all forms of communication, from telephones to televisions, leaving the island community with no means of contacting the mainland. As the temperature rises and the body count increases, Hanson finally reveals that he is a scientist attempting to discover the truth behind the killings and their connection to the heatwave. He theorizes that an alien species from somewhere in space — where the environment is hotter than any place on Earth — is using the island as a proving ground to determine whether Earth is a suitable planet to inhabit. The local physician, Dr. Vernon Stone (Peter Cushing) is among the few to believe Hanson, but when he attempts to reach a radar station on the far side of the island, hoping to make radio contact with the mainland, he too is killed by the as-yet-unseen invaders. Hanson, determined to succeed where Stone had failed, also sets out for the station, only to witness the aliens kill a woman carrying a flashlight. He concludes that the aliens are consuming all man-made energy sources and are attracted to light, and thus manages to reach the station by driving without headlights. Alas, he is too late, for the invaders have already destroyed the radio equipment and killed one of the operators. Hanson formulates a plan to destroy the creatures by setting fire to nearby haystacks and then lobbing dynamite at them when they come to check out the commotion. However, the station operator responsible for handling the dynamite is killed, leaving Hanson defenseless, and soon he, too, falls victim to the aliens' onslaught.

Now the monsters, which have finally revealed themselves as huge, glowing, jellyfish-like blobs, bear down on the Callums and Angela. But now, thunderclouds have gathered in the sky, and a terrific rainstorm batters the island. Rain, it appears, is lethal to the monsters, and they quickly disintegrate beneath the torrents.

The end.

When the Godzilla's Revenge/Island of the Burning Damned double feature played at the local drive-in theater in early 1972, it was colder than my folks were willing to suffer to take me to a movie, so the pair came and went without young Mark having the opportunity to see it. Of course, at the time, I had eyes only for Godzilla's Revenge and wouldn't have given a rotten fart about the second feature. (It's probably just as well it was years later before I got to see Godzilla's Revenge , for it might well have then poisoned my otherwise happy relationship with Godzilla, and the idea of this is even now heinous to me — this is why.) A scant few years later, though, once I had my driver's license, going to the drive-in to watch horror movies became a favorite pastime, and I'm sure that if I'd ever had another opportunity to check out Island of the Burning Damned on the drive-in circuit, I'd have done so in a heartbeat. Despite its manifold shortcomings, it's full to the brim with distinctively British atmosphere, occasionally reminiscent of Hammer horror at its best; an effective sense of unease heightened by what you can't see but hear; and characters that don't necessarily fit the stereotypes associated with most low-budget horror offerings of the day: the forthright, virile male protagonist; the virtuous if often helpless female; the kindly, sagacious professor who manages to save the day with his superior knowledge and intellect. Island of the Burning Damned is populated mostly by antiheroes who are, if not altogether likeable, anything but dull, flat, and lifeless. Jane Merrow, as Angela, is particularly noteworthy, not only for exuding raw sexiness, but for actually surviving to the end of the picture; she is the type more likely to meet her demise simply because she is a complication. There is the insinuation that Angela — easily distracted by the male of the species as she is — may turn her affection, at least temporarily, to one of the other few survivors, but the dicey situation between Mr. and Mrs. Callum is anything but resolved. I rather admire this little deviation from the tried-and-true formula for horror movie characters from the period.

Christopher Lee does turn in a laudable, even memorable performance as Dr. Hanson. He conveys brusqueness, eccentricity, and reluctant courage with virtuoso flair. Peter Cushing likewise portrays the conservative, straightforward Dr. Stone with sincerity, as one would expect from him. I don't think Cushing ever sleepwalked through any role, no matter how simple or shallow. As the protagonist with a serious Achilles heel, Patrick Allen is an adequate performer, with a commanding physical screen presence. And as Callum's devoted but damn-near-jilted wife, Sarah Lawson has a few shining moments, particularly when she reacts, quite believably, to Angela's merciless taunting by calling her a "little bitch," all but spitting in the younger woman's face.

The monsters themselves don't appear until the very end of the film, which is just as well. Design- and execution-wise, they are no better or worse than any number of comparably budgeted movies of the day, but revealing them sooner would have undermined any suspense that might have escaped unscathed from this not entirely suspenseful cheapie. It's easy to make fun of their simple, anything but technically brilliant construction, but I confess that if I were to see these big, glowing, heat-emitting jellyfish-like blobs oozing toward me, I'm pretty sure I would run like hell.

No, Island of the Burning Damned is no classic cinematic work. It didn't get much respect when it was released, and it hasn't gained an appreciable cult following over the years. It's distinctly inferior to Island of Terror , which Planet produced the previous year. Still, it's a highly entertaining relic from a period when the drive-in theater was not only a commercially viable but desirable target market — a time we'll sadly never see the likes of again.
The dangerously hot Angela Roberts (Jane Merrow) and girl-troubled novelist-cum-inn-proprietor,
Jeff Callum (Patrick Allen) Dr. Hanson (Christopher Lee) trying to warn Dr. Stone by radio of the danger he faces in the night Dr. Stone (Peter Cushing) suddenly becomes aware of the danger he faces in the night The danger in the night

Goké, Body Snatcher From Hell

As a longtime fan of weird cinema, I often enjoy watching movies that prompt just about everyone I know to look at me with a pained expression and ask, "What the hell is wrong with you?" Goké, Body Snatcher From Hell (Shochiku, 1966) is one such movie. From the late 1960s through the mid 1980s, I subscribed to Greg Shoemaker's classic fanzine, The Japanese Fantasy Film Journal , and sometime in the very early 70s, an issue had made mention of this movie. The article offered precious little information — just enough to almost cruelly tantalize this young fan of all forms of Japanese fantasy cinema. A few years later, in 1977, I saw in the local newspaper that a movie called Body Snatcher From Hell was coming to one of our then-ubiquitous drive-in theaters on a double bill with The Bloody Pit of Horror , and from photo and copy on the ad mat, I was reasonably certain the former must actually be Goké . Clearly, this was an event not to miss, so when the roadshow arrived, I hied my ass out to the drive-in, picked up a delicious barbecue sandwich from the concession stand, and set about watching this long-anticipated movie.

It messed with my head, it did. More than anything, it struck me as kin to the lurid Italian horror movies of Mario Bava, which I later learned actually had inspired Goké 's director, Hajime Sato. Like many of the movies that influenced it, Goké 's cinematography is stylized, bright, and vivid, with color palettes limited mostly to primary and secondary colors. The storyline is bleaker than bleak, the special effects range from absolutely convincing to stunningly cheesy, and characters rate as among the most despicable examples of humanity ever to be crowded together in a confined space. The musical score by Shunsuke Kikuchi ( Terror Beneath the Sea , Gamera vs. Guiron , Gamera vs. Jiger , Gamera vs. Zigra , Kamen Rider , Mazinger , Dragonball Z , et. al.) ranges from eerie and ethereal to brassy and overwrought, weighted toward the latter. And, of course, for the domestic version, the dubbing — done by the Hong Kong studio that provided the dubbing for countless international films in the 60s and 70s — varies between adequate, merely lame, and atrocious.

A few years ago, I picked up Goké on DVD, on a double-feature with Toho's The Human Vapor (which may merit a little review of its own). Watching the movie again after so many years, I found it just as lurid, obnoxious, hokey, disturbing, and fascinating as I remembered. I re-watched it recently, and, yet again, it was like a train wreck from which one can't avert one's eyes. Familiarity with it fails to diminish its impact.
The film opens with an airliner en route from Tokyo to Osaka flying through a bizarre, brilliant orange sky, upon which the pilot (Hiroyuki Nishimoto) and co-pilot, Sugisaka (Teruo Yoshida), remark upon. Next thing you know, numerous birds begin smacking into the windows in gory explosions. A radio message alerts the crew there may be a bomb on board the plane. Then, without warning, one of the passengers, who has apparently already assassinated the British ambassador to Japan (Hideo Kô), attempts to hijack the plane to Okinawa. But then a gigantic, brilliant UFO appears in the sky and buzzes the plane, causing it to crash-land amid a strange, desolate landscape. Only Sugisaka, stewardess Kazumi Asakura (Tomomi Satô), and a few passengers, including the hijacker, survive the disaster. The hijacker takes Kazumi hostage and attempts to escape, only to encounter the UFO nearby — which mesmerizes him and draws him inside. Here, a mysterious force causes his forehead to split open, and a blob-like organism, one of an alien race called the Gokemidoro, wriggles into his skull, transforming him into a wild, bloodthirsty vampire.
Kazumi manages to escape and return to the plane. However, the surviving passengers — rather than come together to combat their common enemy — fuss, fight, argue, gnash their teeth, and vocally bemoan their fate. One of them actually does turn out to have a bomb, though he brushes it off as just a joke because he was looking to "have some fun." There's scarcely a sympathetic character in the bunch, so when our hijacker-turned-space-vampire begins to prey upon them, one can't help but be a little glad that with each victim, that's one less loudmouth to suffer. However, finally presented with an opportunity to take on the transformed hijacker, Sugisaka douses him with jet fuel and sets him on fire. As his body burns, the Goké alien gooshes out from the wound in his forehead and enters the head of another passenger (Masaya Takahashi), a professor who had previously professed an absolute lack of faith in human goodness — justifiably so, if one were to judge by the quality of the characters traveling on this flight.

As the survivors' numbers dwindle, Sugisaka and Kazumi attempt to flee but are pursued by the transformed professor Sagai. However, the professor is swept away by a sudden landslide, allowing his would-be victims to escape. He makes his way back to the spaceship, where the alien blob exits his head, leaving his body a ruined pile of ash.
Sugisaka and Kazumi soon discover they have been trapped, not on some desert island, but in Japan proper, for they come upon a highway. But it is a dead highway, all the cars stopped and occupied by corpses. The voice of the Gokemidoro reveals to the last two survivors that the invasion of Earth has begun and that no human being will be spared. Sugisaka and Kazumi are left to wander toward their final doom, as from their orbit many miles above the earth, a fleet of alien spaceships begin to descend.

Goké , as you may have inferred from the above, tells a story that is about as grim and hopeless as a story gets, made all the bleaker by the emotionally and psychologically stunted characters. Even for the two reasonably likable protagonists, there is no relief other than death to be found at the end. This quality of human emptiness overshadows all else — the cartoon colors, the goofy dialogue, the ridiculously overdone plot elements, the cheesy special effects. Goké is not so much a movie that's so bad it's good, it's a good movie gone to hell in a hand basket, regurgitated, and splattered all over your shoes. To be sure, it's an obscure classic of weird cinema, and if you're an aficionado, you'll probably love it. I wouldn't recommend showing it to your "normal' neighbors, however, for I can fairly confidently state that they will not.

Valentine's Day Eclection

I've never been particularly fond of Valentine's Day — in my book, it's just another irritating Hallmark Holiday whose less-than-romantic origins have become irrelevant — but in recent years, Ms. Brugger and I have had enough enjoyable February 14 experiences to actually overcome my disdain for it. This year's celebratory outing was about as enjoyable as one could be. We ventured over to Kernersville, which, if you're not from around these parts, is a fairly small community between Greensboro and Winston-Salem, with a rather classic small-town central business district that offers a handful of shops, bars, and restaurants suitable for an evening's entertainment. We had an excellent dinner at Bistro B, which we have visited on numerous occasions, all highly satisfactory. Their wine list is impressive; the chef turns out some of the best and most varied small plate dishes I've had anywhere; and the service has always been impeccable, as it was again last night. For Valentine's Day, they had a special pre-fixe menu, which suited my tastes wonderfully, but as Ms. B.'s palate can be rather peculiar (he said from the safety of his keyboard while she is many miles away), the staff happily accommodated her in substituting a couple of items on the menu. In the end, it was as good a Valentine's Day dining experience as any we've had.

A couple of years back, after a dinner at Bistro B, we discovered a little shop down the way called Eclection, which quickly became one of Ms. B.'s favorite places, well, anywhere. Its name couldn't be any more appropriate — they offer a juice, coffee, beer, and wine bar, nicely stocked; sweets and small plates from various local establishments; live music on weekends; and innumerable aisles and corridors filled with antiques, crafts, artwork, jewelry, apparel, home furnishings, and more, all provided by local artisans and vendors. You can enjoy a drink at the bar; in one of several intimate alcoves; or in the main entertainment area up front, which is relatively new — the last time we were there, it was still under construction. Or you can carry your glass of wine with your while wandering among the booths and cubbies filled with handmade and one-of-a-kind items that even an old curmudgeonly dude such as ye writer with no general interest in such things does mightily approve. Indeed, I've come away from Eclection with a few nice items myself, such as the living room lamp you see pictured above right.

Last night, live music was provided by Joey Barnes, formerly a member of the band Daughtry. It was an enjoyable one-man show, and the house was full — the first time we've ever seen such a crowd there. Back before the shop began bringing in honest-to-god live acts, I made a little guitar noise there at one of the improvised jam sessions they used to host. The folks they bring in now are much better, yes. I quite hope the shop continues to pull in plenty of customers for the long haul because it really is a treasure, the likes of which I would love to see gracing the business districts of little towns everywhere. It's the consummate small business, and supporting it benefits both the establishment and the artisans who provide their eclectic wares. If you're in the area, I strongly encourage you to stop in — it's Eclection, 221 Main Street, Kernersville, NC 27284. You'd be hard-pressed not to find something you absolutely positively just gotta have, even if it's a good glass of wine, coffee, or craft beer.
Eclection, 221 N Main St, Kernersville, NC Joey Barnes plays to a full, enthusiastic house One of many corners full of one-of-a-kind, locally produced goods Ceramic Anne Boleyn, complete with axe, with a rather David Lynchian hounds-tooth pattern backdrop

Crying Tiger (Seua Rong Hai)

Thai food is about my favorite thing in the entire world, and one of my favorite Thai dishes is Crying Tiger (Seua Rong Hai), which is grilled beef over rice with a savory, spicy sauce. It's rare to find it on the menu at most Asian restaurants, at least locally, as it's a "northern" Thai delicacy, which seems to be the purview of a select few establishments here in the Piedmont Triad. There are umpteen Crying Tiger recipes online, and as with most Asian recipes, it's hard to find two that are even remotely similar. I went with my best guess in attempting to recreate the flavor and style of the dish, as prepared at Thai Chiang Mai in High Point, NC, and Rearn Thai in Greensboro, NC. Damn if I didn't pretty well nail it this evening.

What you need (makes four servings):
4 six-ounce top sirloin filets (or similar cuts of beef)
1½ cup soy sauce
1½ cup fish sauce
1 cup cilantro, crushed
¼ cup brown sugar
tomato (diced)
clove garlic (crushed)
6 Thai chili peppers, sliced thin
½ cup lime juice
1 cup green onions, chopped
cucumber, sliced thin; dice several sections to go in the dipping sauce
rice (about 1½ cups to make 4 servings).
leaf lettuce 

What you do:
The beef will need to marinate prior to cooking. To make the marinade, pour 1 cup soy sauce, 1 cup fish sauce, ¾ cup cilantro, ⅛ cup brown sugar, ¾ of the diced tomato, ½ the garlic, about 2 of the 6 chili peppers, and ½ the lime juice into a large bowl. Stir briskly to blend and then place the beef in the bowl (I seasoned the beef with some garlic salt and cracked black pepper). Let marinate in the refrigerator for about one hour.

Mix the remaining soy sauce, fish sauce, cilantro, brown sugar, tomato, garlic, chili peppers, lime juice, green onions, and the diced cucumber; distribute in four small bowls to go with each individual beef dish.

Ideally, the beef should be grilled, but I cooked mine in a cast iron skillet in hot Thai chili oil. For this method, heat the skillet on high until the oil is hot. Drop in the meat and cover. After about two minutes, turn the heat down to medium-high and pour in the marinade with all ingredients. Let the beef cook for three to four minutes per side. When done, remove the beef from the skillet and cut into thin slices, against the grain. Serve over rice on a bed of lettuce and cucumber, with the dipping sauce on the side.

To go with mine, I made a Damned Rodan's Dirty Firetini. It took some doing, but I finally talked the neighbors out of calling the fire department.