MUSIC VIDEO: Dario Argento's Opera -- I Bleed

Why not celebrate the arrival of October the Twins of Evil way: with Dario Argento! Yes, just in time for the season of the witch, kicking the Halloween season off in a grand style, I present to you... this messed up music video! (I spent the last 20 hours making this, and believe me -- I'm messed up.) Featuring a brain-numbing trance soundtrack by Portishead and footage from 1987's kinky stabfest Opera directed by Dario Argento -- I guaran-damn-tee you that this video will fuck your shit up. I am so not even kidding. Watch the video... IF YOU DARE~!

NSFW! Contains LOTS OF VIOLENCE and sexy stuff -- MASSIVE SPOILERS!!

Comments graciously accepted!
Criticisms gleefully ignored!

MUSIC VIDEO: All the Boys Love Mandy Lane -- Tonight There's Only Me

As you know, we here at Twins of Evil do a bit of video editing from time to time. This is a tribute to one of my favorite modern horror flicks, 2008's All the Boys Love Mandy Lane. It's a beautifully shot, artful slasher flick of the highest caliber -- bloody, visceral and heartbreaking. I hope you take a look at my homage to this underrated horror new-classic and go and view the film again, or for the first time! And be sure to check out my review for it either way.

Comments graciously accepted!
Criticisms gleefully ignored!

Oh, Aqualung!

"The Crush" (1993)

STARRING: Cary Elwes, Alicia Silverstone

PLOT: When a writer rents a room from a wealthy couple, their teenage daughter develops an unhealthy and dangerous attraction to him.

IN A WORD: Statutory!

~ Back by popular demand, a Twins of Evil joint-review! ~

OUR TAKE: When a college-educated adult messes around with -- and gets burned by! -- a fourteen-year-old girl, who is REALLY to blame here? The Crush would have us believe that his innocent (yet illegal) actions were a mistake, and the events that befall him are tragic and unfair. We at Twins of Evil Co. see things a bit differently. You will find this movie much more enjoyable if you approach it from the villain's perspective! Instead of a tale of obsessive love gone wrong, this is our review of a sexual predator who deservedly gets what's coming to him.

Nick (Cary Elwes) is a writer of indeterminate origin and skill who is new to town and looking for a place to live. What his job is exactly, we couldn't figure out, but it seemed to involve writing, lots of board meetings, and an occasional clandestine rendezvous in limousines with bearded weirdos in suits. How he got the job is unclear, as he doesn't seem to be very good at it. Where he came from is also unclear, as Mr. Elwes struggles blandly to nail down anything resembling a natural American accent.

MRBNATURAL: What I find unclear is why the hell I had such a huge thing for him in the 90's.

PONYBOY: Yeah, watching it now he's a lot more... what's the word?


MRBNATURAL: ...mashed-potato-y?

PONYBOY: That's it. He's much more mashed-potato-y than I remember. White. Mildly enjoyable...

MRBNATURAL: Not as buttery.

PONYBOY: He had that hip, split-level 90's hair I liked.

MRBNATURAL: I'll give him that. He had the whole non-threatening, sweater-wearing, might-take-you-on-a-duck-shaped-paddle-boat-ride thing going on.

PONYBOY: I don't know if I'd take him up on that ride anymore.

As IF!

When Nick moves into the Forrester's picture-perfect -- suspiciously affordable -- coach house (hardwood floors!), it seems too good to be true. The eaves are dripping with blooming flowers (huge lot! trees!) and it has a great view of the lagoon-like swimming pool and manicured lawn (gardener's paradise!). It also comes with an excellent view of the Forrester's criminally under-aged daughter, Adrian, who enjoys sunbathing and carefree romps in the yard.

Like every starry-eyed teenage girl in the 90's, Adrian (Alicia Silverstone) was powerless against the mashed-potato-y good looks of Cary Elwes. From the moment he nearly creams her in his rusted-out Valiant convertible, Adrian is in love! Love! Hopelessly in love! Things might have stayed at the hearts-on-a-notebook, stickers-and-unicorns level if our hero had been a gentleman. But Nick is no gentleman. Just like potatoes can go bad, so can people! Adrian's innocent infatuation with Nick is encouraged and perverted by his own lusty desires, and soon the young girl is confused by the mixed messages sent by a grown-ass man who wants to have his cake and eat it too.

PONYBOY: WHERE DOES HE GET OFF.

MRBNATURAL: Down by the wharf, apparently.

PONYBOY: FOURTEEN! *scowls incredulously*

MRBNATURAL: And we're supposed to be rooting for him...? Somehow...?

PONYBOY: I'm sorry, but "she was fourteen AND CRAZY" doesn't make it any less of a felony.

MRBNATURAL: Don't act all woah-what's-happening-there's-someone's-tongue-in-my-mouth when you're the creep that lured her to the docks in the middle of the night.

Someone call Chris Hansen!

Danger! Danger!

After their illicit seaside encounter, Nick wants to keep things quiet and move on to less-pedophilic pastures, while young Adrian is understandably more in love than ever. It's even more romantic because it's secret! As he tries to cut her out of his life, she tenaciously clings to him in the hopes that somehow their love will survive. Unfortunately for Nick, Adrian is smarter and more clever than him, and easily thwarts his every cowardly attempt to pretend like nothing happened. You can't un-ring a bell. You can't un-boil a potato. You can't act like the hero after you molested a fourteen-year-old girl. What follows is a hilariously satisfying string of events in which Adrian exacts her revenge on the pervert and his enablers.

Mr. Potato Head.

Don't do the crime if you can't do the time!

MRBNATURAL: Can we, just for a moment, switch gears and address the panty thing?

PONYBOY: I'm so glad I caught that. It's a shame the editors didn't.

MRBNATURAL: There's a comical lack of attention to detail in this movie.

PONYBOY: The first thing that jumped out at me was the quick-change shower scene.

MRBNATURAL: Yeah, in the time it takes Adrian to say the line "I got you a present", Nick somehow Clark-Kents his way out of a mere bathroom towel into slacks, a button-up shirt, a belt, and shoes.

Actual time elapsed: 3 seconds.

PONYBOY: That's impressive.

MRBNATURAL: But not as impressive as the panty thing.

PONYBOY: Get this: After Nick (having sneaked into Adrian's bedroom) discovers a pair of polka-dot panties on the floor, he sees Adrian -- in white granny-panties -- walking towards her bedroom.

MRBNATURAL: Nick heroically hides in her closet...

PONYBOY: ...and she enters wearing turquoise bikini briefs! She then plucks an entirely new pair of silky white panties from her dresser, before disrobing to reveal -- SHE'S NOT WEARING PANTIES AT ALL!

Exhibit #1: Polka-dot panties.

Exhibit #2: White granny-panties.

Exhibit #3: Turquoise bikini briefs.

Exhibit #4: New silky white panties.

Exhibit #5: NO PANTIES!!!

MRBNATURAL: The rapid-fire panty-changing sequence makes Nick's simple bathroom quick-change look like a lounge act.

PONYBOY: She should be working in Vegas!

Though it's hard to get behind a hero who does such creepy things (peeping, hiding in closets, hitting women) the movie itself is actually quite thrilling and enjoyable. It has great 90's appeal and holds up well. Alicia Silverstone is wonderful to look at, and is disturbingly convincing as the heartsick and tormented lolita, acting wide, easy circles around the rest of the cast. The Crush is great as a revenge flick, or a slightly less-guilty-pleasure alternative to a Lifetime movie-of-the-week. It's always satisfying to see a pervy old man get clowned by someone half his age, especially if he deserves it. And he deserves it. He's one dirty potato.

ON A SCALE OF 1-10: Forbidden fruit and just desserts! 7.

Could it be.... SATAN?

"Your Vice Is a Locked Room
and Only I Have the Key" (1972)

STARRING: Edwige Fenech, Anita Strindberg

PLOT: A burned-out writer tailspins into alcoholism while his abused wife slowly loses her mind. When the couple's wayward niece comes to call, she ignites a dark and forbidden passion in both of them. Meanwhile, women are disappearing and it's anyone's guess who's to blame.

IN A WORD: MROOOOWWWWRRRRR!

MY TAKE: If you've seen one naked-hippie freak-out party, you've seen them all. And yet this flick kicks off with a naked-hippie freak-out party sing-along, which is something altogether rare and hilarious. The hippies wave their hands, clap, sing, take their clothes off and dance all over the furniture. Beautiful, coked-up women drape themselves over the star of our show: aging writer and egomaniac Oliviero, content in this film to constantly redefine the word douchebag. Everything's going great until his wife, Irina, strolls into the room in what turns out to be Oliviero's mother's turn-of-the-century gown.

It's the summer of looooove! And DRUGS!

Seeing her dressed up and bedazzled in his mom's old clothes flips an Oedipal switch in Oliviero's brain. He flies into a rage and wails on his wife, humiliating her in front of all of the hippies, which -- if you think about it -- is a fairly spectacular feat considering they were dancing on the furniture naked. Before anyone can shout "party's over" Oliviero rips her dress open and rapes her right there on the parlor floor.

Okay, NOW the party's over.

If there is a heroine at all in this flick, I suppose it would have to be Irina. Nobody deserves to be terrorized by their husband, but she's so painfully unlikeable and shrewish, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't feel the impulse to reach into my television and hit her. Just once. Maybe twice. The movie chugs along as we follow Irina: alternately abused and neglected by Oliviero, yet inexplicably jealous that he keeps a mistress. When said mistress is mysteriously butchered in the dead of night, Oliviero is a suspect. And unfortunately for everyone involved, the only cops even halfway interested in any of this are French.

When the couple's young niece pays a visit, things get infinitely more interesting and creepy. There are constant whispers that Oliviero was involved in a sexual relationship with his dear departed mother, a rumor that sends the writer into a fury. His mom? Never! But his niece...? It isn't long before her lush Lothario uncle is putting his slimy moves all over Floriana. She's a vibrant, beautiful, confident girl, with a keen fashion sense and a quick wit. Instantly likable. But while she does the audience a solid and verbally scathes Oliviero for being such a loathsome pig, she doesn't need much convincing afterward to sleep with him.

Incest, schmincest.

After we're done screaming/vomiting, we learn that shrewd Floriana plays both sides. She openly detests her uncle (even while porking him) for his obvious mistreatment of Irina, sympathizing with her aunt in long middle-of-the-night girl-chat sessions. And if things weren't already weird enough, they get a whole hell of a lot weirder when the two women start their own illicit, incestuous affair.

Meanwhile: more women in the town start disappearing, only to turn up mutilated, Oliviero spirals out of control into binge drinking, and Floriana manages to find even more people to sleep with. But more importantly, a sinister black cat named Satan takes to stalking and attacking Irina. Repeatedly. Every ten minutes. For the remainder of the film. How much cat-yowling action can one movie handle?

You're gonna find out!

A colorful movie with glimmers of hope and tons of sleeze, Your Vice is a Locked Room is frustrating at times, and never quite manages to be 100% fully entertaining (although the entertainment value definitely spikes whenever Floriana starts getting kinky). Twists and double-twists abound, it all comes just a tad too little, too late. But if you're looking for a halfway decent giallo flick to kick on the tube, this one wouldn't be too bad if alcohol were involved.

ON A SCALE OF 1-10: Nasty but amusing. 4.

~ WATCH THE (NSFW) TRAILER ~

There's Always Room for Giallo!

"Forbidden Photos of a
Lady Above Suspicion" (1970)
STARRING: Dagmar Lassander, Susan Scott

PLOT: A triangle of friendship, love, sex, and, perhaps... murder. A group of friends find their lives tangled up in blackmail and deceit. Someone is pulling the strings, but who?

IN A WORD: Sexy!

MY TAKE: The heroine of our story is Minou, the bored and wealthy wife of work-a-day boring and wealthy Peter. She spends her days lounging like a house cat around her lavish beach house, seeming to both despise and relish in the wealthy boredom, playing with her pet turtle, popping pills like she's Neely O'Hara, and sometimes taking entire evenings to simply bathe and dress herself. Minou isn't in much of a hurry to do anything. It's no great mystery that Peter is slightly annoyed with his wife, but it is a bit of a riddle as to how two attractive newlyweds turned into such a bitchy old married couple so quickly.

Bitch bitch bitch, it's all you ever are.

One night, while out for a drug-addled midnight mope on the beach, Minou is confronted by a stranger. He approaches her (boldly, in all his wannabe-David-Hess-glory) and a scuffle ensues. After pinning helpless Minou in the sand, the attacker teases her that he possesses certain damning evidence that her husband Peter is a murderer. It's unclear if the man's initial motive was to deliver this info with-or-without a side order of rape, but the whole ordeal finds him a tad disorganized, and Minou is able to wriggle free from his clutches and escape.

Run, Debra Messing! Run!

Later, she sits down to knock back a few drinks and contemplate the whole fucked up evening with her new friend, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. While the attacker on the beach could have been a lone nut, he did have some rather specific information about her husband. And yet, even if Peter is a killer he does make a comfortable living wage... Minou breathlessly retells the encounter to him later that evening: how a man grabbed her on the beach and threw her into the sand, his big groping hands on her jubblies. She conveniently omits the part about the man knowing her and having blackmail on Peter -- who cavalierly laughs off her near-rape, saying she was probably dressed too sexy, or drunk or something.

Good old Peter!

Minou visits her best friend -- sexy, sexy Dominque -- who offers a (sexy) shoulder for her to cry on. The evening improves, they have a few drinks, they bust out the porn. Minou kills some time by looking at the erotic photographs Domique scored on vacation. The audience momentarily looks up from their laptops -- streaming six simultaneous tiled windows of free, hardcore, anal RedTube porn -- and sighs "awww" at the preciousness of life before the internet. Minou is shocked to discover the face of her attacker in one of Dominque's photos, but chooses to keep silent.

Mmmmmmm, Dominique.

When the mysterious man calls Minou in the middle of the night, she is terrified, but filled with as many questions as fears. He once again taunts her that he could implicate Peter at any time and destroy their lives, but he might be persuaded otherwise, if only Minou would meet him in secret.

Objects in picture are douch-ier than they appear.

What follows is a twisting tale of blackmail, double-agents, lies and furious humping. How far will Minou go to ensure that Peter remains free? Will it stop short of dirty, anonymous sex with a nameless stranger who kind of resembles Tony Danza at certain angles? Just who is it that Peter allegedly killed anyway? How many people are involved in this plot? Will Dominique take her top off? More than once? Rent the movie to uncover the truth!

ON A SCALE OF 1-10: Entertaining and weirdly subtle. 6.

~ WATCH THE (NSFW) TRAILER ~

Did somebody say... SATAN?

"Exorcismo" (1975)

STARRING: Paul Naschy, Grace Mills

PLOT: After a young woman participates in a Satanic ceremony, people close to the girl begin to die. It's up to the family priest to discover the truth behind the murders.

IN A WORD: Twist-ed!

MY TAKE: The movie begins with a scene that should be old-hat to any fan of 70's horror, the Satanic beach party. Natch. Hippies laze about in the sand drinking from a gigantic golden goblet while a few yards away Mistress Demonica gyrates before a goat head statue, fondles a few naked girls and slits her wrists. Sex *and* violence in the first two minutes? Hail Satan!

Reaffirming my wariness of hippies in general.

Young Leila leaves the party in the wee hours, bombed on LSD, and takes to the country roads in her tiny European car. The spectacular car crash that ensues is a helpful PSA reminding us to never, NEVER drive while high, and to always buy Japanese. Everybody is thankfully thrown clear (a not-so helpful PSA against seat belts?) but Leila's near-death experience seems to awaken a darkness within her.

Returning to her mother's palatial mansion in Bristol, she broods and takes to snapping at everyone. Leila fusses, acts hateful towards her brother, and speaks with audacious disrespect to the family priest (Paul "Mr. Naschy if you're Nasty" Naschy). As Leila's insolent attitude continues to escalate, her family considers having her committed. But when people start to die -- their heads twisted around by inhuman strength (neat!) -- a sinister and otherworldly evil casts it's veil over the family. Who is to blame for the horrific murders? Has Leila lost her mind or are there darker forces at work?

Who the hell named the family dog Bork?

The DVD packaging brazenly boasts this title as "one of the most notorious films in the exorcism genre", although it conveniently avoids mentioning, not "the" most notorious. You know the one. The movie you can't help but compare Exorcismo to through the entire run of the film. The liner notes are dodgy, both hinting that this movie was made in a slap-dash fashion to capitalize on Exorcist-mania, and at the same time claiming that lead actor *and* writer of the film -- Spanish legend Paul Nashy -- wrote the script three years before The Excorcist was released.

Which ever it happens to be, it doesn't much matter. Though entertaining, and incredibly earnest, this film can't help but pale by comparison. It's like when you asked for Disney's Aladdin on VHS for Christmas only to find your sodding grandma got you the Wal*Mart knock-off version, Aladdin's Fantastic Adventure with His Friend The Genie. It's the SAME BASIC STORY -- and while chances are you would have been perfectly fine with it had you not seen the other, better, dazzling version -- you can't help but feel like someone took a dump in your stocking.

It's not the movie's fault! It tried very hard!

So yes, yes. A girl gets sick and then goes nuts. The Devil is involved so the Priest is called. If Exorcismo wants to cling to credibility it doesn't help matters that it contains a few iconic scenes from The Excorist, such as a scene in which the Priest discovers the church has been defaced, and one in which the troubled girl-in-question disrupts a party. I'M NOT SAYING IT'S A RIP-OFF, I'm just saying that if Naschy indeed DID write his script before viewing The Exorcist, that it's hilariously unfortunate.

But this movie's titty quotient is WAY higher.

The film is bookended by scenes of action and intensity, though the middle drags a bit due to lengthy dialogue. But never once did the movie feel insincere. You can tell that Naschy is in love with his own work, taking charge in every scene he's in. He is only upstaged by beauty Grace Mills, who genuinely scared the crap out of me as the plagued Leila. If foreign horror or exorcism movies are your bag, this is certainly worth a look. I'd say the make-up effects for the final few scenes of the movie are worth the price of rental alone.

Lookin' GOOD!

ON A SCALE OF 1-10: Decent and demented. 6.

~ WATCH A CLIP ~

I Want to Phuck You Like an Animal

"Phantom of the Opera" (1998)

STARRING: Asia Argento, Julian Sands

PLOT: A troubled madman stalks the shadows of the Paris Opera House and falls in love with a young singer.

IN A WORD: Phan-tastic!

~ Back by popular demand, a Twins of Evil joint-review! ~

OUR TAKE: A classic tale of romance and horror, as told by a visionary Italian legend, starring his voluptuous daughter and the motherfucking Warlock. What more could you want? However, it seems that this flick has been universally despised for the last decade, tossed aside like the lowest form of cinema garbage. Watching this movie for the first time, we couldn't figure out why... and then it struck us: it's those cranky Phantom fans! If you come to this movie expecting the beloved musical version (or anything resembling the original novel) prepare to be butthurt. This is Dario Argento, and he doesn't care about your phucking Phantom. If seeing a pair of titties leaves you aghast and appalled, wringing your opera gloves -- go see the stage production. You're fucking it all up for the rest of us.

Trust us. You'll see A LOT more than titties in this movie.

Let's get this out of the way: In Argento-land, our beloved Phantom is NOT disfigured, does NOT wear a mask, and does NOT teach Christine to sing. Argento's Phantom is obscenely good-looking, has a penchant for leather pants, and has ~PSYCHOSEXUAL TELEKINESIS~. (Pretty cool, right?) Instead of romantic whispering through mirrors, our Phantom flat-out mind-rapes anyone he damn well pleases. A strong as ten men, cut like a Chippendales' dancer -- and though he does not sing -- he can also, apparently, fly. Argento's Christine is never confused about who or what the Phantom is. In the musical, she is deceived, believing him (in her naivete) to be a benevolent angel of music. In this version, Christine understands that Phantom 2.0 is a dangerous killer, and apparently this is what gets her off. The fact that he regularly -- and spectacularly! -- dispatches opera patrons and maintenance staff doesn't really factor into play much. No, she's pretty much ready to fuck him the moment she claps eyes on him.

...just like the rest of us!

She's a young girl with a head full of romantic ideas, and he's Julian Sands, professional panty-melter. The Phantom, bewitched by Christine's voice (and revealing wardrobe) uses his dastardly, underhanded ways to position her as the star of the opera. While he weaves his spell of lust and control over Christine, another man vies for her heart. Those of you who have always found the Raoul character to be a painfully unnecessary cockblocker might be surprised to discover Agento's rewrite casts him as a sympathetic opium addict.

Say wahhhh?

Whatever will become of the fragile songstress, torn between two (seriously damaged) loves? And more importantly, does the Phantom phinally get laid?!

~~~~

PONYBOY: So, how creepy is it that Asia Argento's DAD filmed this?

MRBNATURAL: What? Like there's anything weird about watching a stranger lovingly assfuck your daughter?

PONYBOY: Yeah, they have a fun relationship.

As in dis-fun-ctional.

MRBNATURAL: The sexy shit that goes on in this flick makes the topless scene in Trauma seem cute by comparison.

PONYBOY: How did you like the Terry-Gilliam-inspired subplot with the filthy French exterminator, his gleeful dwarven cohort, and the rocket-powered rat vacuum rollercoaster ride through the subterranean catacombs?

MRBNATURAL: I'd say it really classed-up the picture. Now settle a bet for me, was the Phantom raised by a swarm of rodents in the original? I can't remember.

PONYBOY: I don't recall him being the Rat King of Chicago in Gaston LeRoux's version. The rat masturbation scene was definitely Argento.

MRBNATURAL: Props to Julian Sands, because he SOLD that scene.

Oh, if only we were joking.

PONYBOY: The big reveal in this version isn't the lifting of the mask, it's catching her man with a rat down his pants. That's pretty much a deal-breaker right there.

MRBNATURAL: Yeah, suddenly Raoul's not lookin' so bad... He was kind of a third wheel until he suddenly popped up half-naked in an opium den and I started rooting for him. You know. To get more naked.

PONYBOY: I was too busy looking at the full-frontal fat ladies and old man wang. I couldn't tell you what else happened in that scene.

MRBNATURAL: Oh, Italy!

PONYBOY: This whole picture is a love-letter to Europe.

MRBNATURAL: Come to France! Get crushed by a chandelier!

PONYBOY: You want creeping pedophiles? We got those too! And I have to say, the Phantom delivered some amazing kills in this film. Stalagmite impalings! Throats being ripped out with his bare teeth! It was a joy to watch him work.

MRBNATURAL: Yeah, I enjoyed watching him work on Asia Argento.

Who wouldn't?

PONYBOY: DUDE! I thought we'd get ONE scene like that! There were SEVERAL!

MRBNATURAL: As long as you're straying from the source material, might as well squeeze some buttsex in there too. She was into it... eventually.

PONYBOY: Yeah, it's not something you can just spring on a girl. Like a rat in your pants. You gotta romance it a little.

MRBNATURAL: The one thing I took away from this movie is that I need to see more flicks starring Julian Sands. And I don't care how terrible.

PONYBOY: God damn it.

MRBNATURAL: What?

PONYBOY: I think I'm a Phantom phan.

Nooooooooooooo!

~~~~

This flick is a thoroughly entertaining and delightfully naughty re-imagining. It may break a few Phangirl hearts to hear that we enjoyed Dario Argento's take on this classic tale more than any previous incarnation. While it's clearly not for everyone, those of you who enjoy Italian horror will feel right at home.

ON A SCALE OF 1-10: This ain't your pappy's Phantom! 8.

~ WATCH THE TRAILER ~

Put your hand inside the puppet head.

"Carnosaur 2" (1993)
STARRING: John Savage, Ryan Thomas Johnson

PLOT: When the government stashes a nest of dinosaurs eggs in a remote nuclear dump site in the desert, they predictably hatch! Mayhem ensues.

IN A WORD: Veloci-CRAP-tors!

MY TAKE: Can a helicopter outrun a nuclear explosion? Will dinosaurs slap their prey to death Three Stooges-style, if given the option? Is there something kind of weird going on between the hero and that teenage boy? And just how many movies can you shamelessly rip off in 83 minutes? All these questions and more will be answered upon viewing the hilariously awful Carnosaur 2. Released direct-to-video on the heels of Jurassic Park's blockbuster success, this cheesy puppet-laden flick attempts to ride those coattails any way it can. Unfortunately for all involved, Carnosaur 2 is writing some big-ass checks it has no intention (or ability) of cashing. "This is what Jurassic Park SHOULD have been!" screams Chris Gore of Film Threat Magazine, the brazen lie slapped boldly right on the front of the freakin' DVD case. "A sci-fi action-adventure thriller at its best!" says Dr. Donald Reed of the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy, & Horror, begging the question what fly-by-night organization elevated such a retard to the level of DOCTOR and what fucking movie was HE watching? Yes, Carnosaur 2 claims it's "Back for another bite!", and that's one thing I wholeheartedly agree with.

Trust me; this movie BITES.

There's an underground mining facility, some snafu happens, everyone mysteriously dies, and it's up to a rag-tag team of badasses to explore the tunnels and find out what the dealio. Kind of exactly like Aliens, except that everyone in this movie is awful and none of them in any way kicks any sort of ass. There's a teenage computer hacker, a Joe Piscopo impersonator, a couple of broads, a wise-crackin' black dude, some whiny guy who looks like Mr. Belding from Saved by the Bell, and our plucky hero Reed, who has what appears to be an unhealthy attachment to the aforementioned teenage boy... Very quickly it becomes apparent that not only is the whole place primed to blow sky high from a nuclear explosion, but it is also overrun with dinosaurs.

...That is to say "puppets". Despite what the pictures on the DVD case might lead you to believe, there are no sexy ladies in skimpy red polka dot dresses getting naked or killed by dinosaurs. There are PUPPETS, and lots of them. But don't get me wrong. Though this movie is floppy rubber puppet-fucking-central -- you never see more than two or three of them in the same shot at any given time. In fact, aside from a few ludicrous seconds of footage, you never see any of the ACTORS in the same shot as the puppets. What you get instead is a pair of clowny-ass rubber dinosaur gloves, which leap into frame and scrabble at the actors as they scream and scream (as though they are looking at a dinosaur). I was laughing to the point of near hysteria watching the fearless heroes get slapped, swatted at, throttled, and tossed around by those green rubber monster paws. I never knew velociraptors knew how to pick up oil drums and THROW them ~ala~ Donkey Kong, but it just kept happening. Smacking people across their faces, flinging them over tables -- I kept half-expecting the dinosaurs to honk the humans' noses and poke 'em in the eyes. It was just that silly.

A wise guy, eh? Nyoink! *slappa slappa slappa*

There isn't much gore to speak of. Almost all the killing takes place off-camera, and what little they show is just plain dumb. There's a lengthy battle between T-Rex (puppet) and a forklift, which goes on for about three and a half hours, all of which I spent watching the puppet slip and teeter weightlessly on its inanimate rubber dino-feet. There are a few shots where the dinosaurs are CLEARLY humans in full costume. Actually, the most entertaining aspect of the entire film was the weirdness between the main hero Reed and the young teenage hacker Jesse. In nearly every scene they share, Reed is skulking up behind Jesse, leaning in close to him, touching his face, and generally just acting waaay too familiar with him. I lost count of how many times Reed watched Jesse silently, or hollered for everyone to help Jesse, or where's Jesse, is Jesse okay, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse... He was about a hair away from brushing up against Jesse and smelling him in every single scene. Trust me, it's a little too in-your-face to be purely by accident. I was actually concerned for Jesse's safety throughout the entire film, and it had nothing to do with the dinosaurs.

Run, Jesse! D:

This movie is just plain bad. But bad in a way that a few beers and some friends might turn into a really good time. There's plenty to laugh at. In fact, the laughs never stop coming! It's pretty much wall-to-wall dreck -- unrelenting, yet thoroughly entertaining at the same time. Carnosaur 2 takes itself deadly serious, which only adds to the hilarity. Whether intentional or not, this ended up being one of the best comedies I've seen in a long time, and if it's been a while since you watched Jurassic Park, this will no doubt grant you a deeper appreciation for that film. Carnosaur 2 is terrible, but it's so damn good at being terrible, it's almost kind of admirable.

Not quite Troll 2 bad... but close.

ON A SCALE OF 1-10: Unconvincing dino puppets run amuck! 3.

~ WATCH THE TRAILER ~

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Seems like up is down and red is blue.

"I Know Who Killed Me" (2007)

STARRING: Lindsay Lohan, Julia Ormond, Neal McDonough

PLOT: When Aubrey Fleming goes missing, the town suspects a serial killer has abducted her. When she is miraculously found alive, mutilated and unconscious on the side of a country road, she has no memory of her life, insisting that her real name is Dakota Moss. Is Aubrey a victim of her own fractured mind, or is there truth to her unbelievable claim? She must solve the mystery before her torturer returns to finish the job...

IN TWO WORDS: RED! BLUE!

MY TAKE: It should come as little surprise that this movie has an abysmal Rotten Tomatoes rating and has been universally panned by critics. Chances are you didn't see it. Chances are you rolled your eyes at the commercials, because -- let's face it -- this is a Lindsay Lohan movie. Critics are people too, and by the time this movie hit theaters in 2007, people everywhere were fed up with the lead starlet's off-screen antics. Nobody wanted to support a self-indulgent brat by paying to see this, and those that did see it seemed to let their opinions of Lohan's public life color their impression of this film. It's a shame that most critics decided to lock arms and steamroll this flick into the dirt, because -- believe it or not -- this movie is actually decent. In fact, I'm shocked to admit, it's pretty darn good.

Lindsay's as shocked as you are!

Like most people, I'd dismissed this flick entirely. But when I heard it referred to as an "American giallo" by the Dead Lantern Splattercast, I was intrigued. When it comes to horror movies, those guys seriously know their shit, and when they recommended I give it a shot, I decided to take their advice. I'm glad I did. The comparison to Italian gialli is an appropriate one -- to call this an American interpretation of the giallo style is absolutely spot-on. That's exactly what this is. I Know Who Killed Me is saturated with color and symbolism, vibrant reds and blues tinting every frame of the movie. Heavy with symbolism and repeated images, this flick is also heavy-handed with the blood and gore. A slasher killer, a psychological mystery, and though Lohan herself doesn't go nude, there are multiple scenes featuring female nudity. I'm stumped to think of a recent movie that evokes the giallo style more than this one.

The film follows a girl named Aubrey Fleming. She's a bright student, a writer, and an accomplished pianist. Aubrey is looking forward to college, and spends the majority of her time studying and writing fiction on her computer. She lives in an idyllic town, has a boyfriend who is nuts about her, and a family who loves her. But everything is not as picture-perfect as it appears. A fellow student in her class was recently murdered, her drowned corpse found horribly mutilated. The press wants to run with a serial killer story, but the cops are fighting to keep it hushed up. But when star student Aubrey vanishes one night, people's worst fears are confirmed. Someone is abducting and killing girls, keeping them alive while he or she whittles them down one limb at a time. The authorities fear the worst for Aubrey, and everyone is amazed when she is found alive.

Alive... but not altogether whole.

Aubrey has no memory of her life. She doesn't know her parents or friends and insists that she is someone named Dakota Moss. Interrogated by police and medical professionals, everyone believes Aubrey has lost her grip on reality. Everyone, that is, except Dakota. She is in every way a different person than Aubrey. A smoker, a drinker, and a former exotic dancer, Dakota shocks her loved ones with her foul language and bad attitude. The FBI is convinced she's stonewalling, hindering their investigation by refusing to tell what little of the incident she remembers. Her family refuses to indulge Aubrey's delusion that she is Dakota, insistent that if she returns home, her fractured memory will return. Dakota plays along and returns to Aubrey's home, picking up Aubrey's life where she left it, all the while determined to figure out what happened.

When strange, seemingly paranormal occurrences and visions begin to plague Dakota, the audience is thrown off track. What appears at first to be a straightforward tale of mistaken identity quickly becomes something else. Even if you're convinced you know what's going on and who is responsible, like any good giallo, you won't know the full story until the end of the film.

Who is Dakota? Who is Aubrey? What the hell is going on?

I really liked this. While certainly not for everyone, especially people who hate Lohan or find graphic gore distasteful, I think most people would be surprised how decent this flick is. The mystery is intriguing, and the film is gorgeous to look at. Of course, it does have its problems. Lohan's harsh black dye-job and spray-on tan are distracting to say the least, and I spent the majority of the film wanting to hold her down and scrub her head till she looked somewhat natural. She is a beautiful girl, and she shows a lot of skin as Dakota. There are multiple strip club dance scenes, but the fact that she never once gets topless while working the stripper pole is a little hard to swallow. Fun to watch, but if you're gonna convince an audience you're a world-weary exotic dancer, nipples are almost a necessity. Come on, Lindsay! We've seen 'em in magazines, why hold out when you're playing a stripper?

Other gripes are small, but worth mentioning. Aubrey's high school boyfriend was flat-out terrible. I find it hard to believe that bright, intelligent Aubrey she would waste her time on a lunkheaded dolt like Jarrod. She refuses to have sex with him, so clearly it's not a phsyical thing, and he's not especially attractive in any way. Are we to believe they have deep, meaningful conversations whenever they're off-screen together? Whether this is bad casting or poor writing (or a combination of the two), I don't know. I think the boyfriend is only in the movie as a device to see some raunchy amputee-sex, and hey, I guess I can get behind that. But he's still dull as a bag of hair, and we all know Lindsay could score someone much better looking. Other things like the laughable robotic hand and Darnell from My Name Is Earl as the utterly unconvincing prosthetic scientist leap to mind, but the lasting impression this movie made wasn't how much it sucked, but how much it didn't suck.

Plus, you know, there's a lot of this.

Of all the things to bitch about in I Know Who Killed Me, the one person I can't fault is the one person that incurred the wrath of audiences and critics alike -- Lindsay Lohan. She's really great in this, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. She convincingly plays the dual roles of Aubrey and Dakota, and she carries almost every single scene of the movie by herself. I thought it would be difficult to separate her infamous party-girl image from the characters she played, but she made it easy. Whether most people would like to admit it, Lohan is a talented actress. It's clear that she loves acting, and I sincerely hope she sorts her shit out so that she can continue to act. When the movie was over, I found myself thinking favorably of her and feeling guilty that I'd judged her so harshly as an artist based on anything but her art. So don't let your opinion of Lindsay Lohan's partying ways prevent you from seeing I Know Who Killed Me. Take my advice -- it's worth a shot. This movie tries many things you don't usually see in American horror movies, and for that I have to give it props.

ON A SCALE OF 1-10: A delightfully twisted American giallo! 7!

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