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A Review: "Welcome to Derry" Misses the Mark

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There’s a scene, in the last episode, which I just finished of this horror prequel series, where the camera affords itself an establishing shot from inside of the gymnasium of Derry’s unfortunate high school. It states, “Home of the Trappers.” I remember it clearly, since I was a Trailblazer, whatever that was, way back in those awful high school years. The camera then pans down to a wide variety of early 60s youth marching into the space. With the supporting characters providing commentary, in walks one of the students dressed as a terrapin. Big shell on their back, huge mascot head. There.  Right there.  No, it did not pull me out of the moment-but it was confusing, as like, the establishing shot said, clearly….TRAPPERS. That’s a tortoise, a turtle.  A shell game. But this mild confusion really populated this entire show and illustrated, in a few brief moments, why this program was probably not the best that HBO has to offer in the horror television program theater. Whi...
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When Media is Important

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  Summer has officially begun. The academic shackles are off, and the post-school decompression process is already in full swing. I’m back home, soaking in the summer vibes. A little creative writing to start (we begin small, friends), a deep dive into my reading—fiction and non—because absorbing the work of others is critical. A quick word on stress.  The old days involved a second gig—interpreting, bless its well-meaning heart. Highly rewarding work, they said. Nominal pay, I remember. My esophagus still burns thinking about the responsibility of helping people make important decisions.  So, no.  WHile important, it was a bit much. The last few years, I’ve had the supreme luxury, thanks to my long-suffering (and beloved) HusOtter Supreme, to choose self-focus. When you shed that external layer of obligation, the internal infrastructure demands attention. Meditation stretches from a panicked sixty seconds to something resembling actual contemplation. The gym become...
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Some Things Are Just Disturbing

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 I mean, like, why? Why does such crap and drivel like The Human Centipede exist. Well? It's probably like porn. Where everyone tires their best to stare at the screen the longest in some kind of double-dare situation. The images become paramount, only merely bolstered by something resembling a plot just to get to this scene or that. Sorta like reverse porn, I suppose. But I see no purpose in it, myself. Sometimes, buried deep within such films is a moment of solace, a message that must be conveyed and this is the only way.  Rarely, however, does a message get conveyed with completely revolting an audience from watching the title in the first place, but, hey, you win more friends with honey then vinegar. But I suppose some film makers are very, very unhappy, and, well, if there's punk music? There's disturbing cinema.  Usually the stuff of film festivals, they rarely make a market beyond the dark web, late night DVD rentals when those still existed, and someone who wants...
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Some Comedies to Consider

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 I'm weird. Stop laughing. Of course it's true. Stop LAUGHING, I gotta say something here. When I was in the period of strange wonderment between my divorce and finding the true love my life, I went and saw a LOT of movies.  But never the comedies. Never the ha-ha stuff. I noticed this trend for years, before and since. I'd go to things like that with my friends or colleagues or to write a review for the papers. It was, as if, like, I could never laugh in public. I hated laughing with just me and the screen. I had to really push myself to go.  Of course, my ex loved Ace Ventura, which should tell you volumes about his grasp on this reality. But, no, I never really got into the comedy stuff.  Weird, right? The other odd part was that I'd think horror movies were comedic. I mean, really, a slasher with a hockey mask and NO ONE DOES ANYTHING? Hilarious.  As I complied this list of movies that I enjoyed that were comedic, I did notice a few trends in my tastes. Thes...
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Top Foreign Films

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 Yeah. Movies are my salvation. Not only was I denied access to the Disney parks during the serious throws of the epidemic; movies, the simple act of going to the theater, was also taken from me. That was serious, very serious to my soul. Disney? Expensive and a trek.  Movies? Five minutes from the theater.  Yes, yes, yes, there's streaming. I'm aware of that, and it filled that space, but not by much. When I'm at home, the sense of escapism that seems so necessary to balm my wounds, is removed. I'm still on the couch, ungraded papers a mere few paces away, hissing at my brain like basket-ed cobra, waiting to strike. The dog still need to go out; that laundry needs to be folded. Even a mere five minutes away was far enough that my heartbeat starts to drop so dramatically that my Fitbit registers me as sleeping.  Which is kinda cool, too. None of that.  We've eased ourselves into theater going again, taking advantage of pre-ordered tickets, where we can establish...
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Some Independent Films I Love

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 I have to say, I was born for loving independent film. My generation did not float in on the tide that was the French New Wave.  Nope. Instead, we founded our first indie with Kevin Smith's delicious yuckfest, Clerks. But, me? Me? I was ahead of the curve. Totally ahead of the curve. I liked Starbuck's before there was one even close to my house. I had drive my little VW Bug all the way into Cherry Creek to indulge in a mocha. And to also escape?  The Aztec Theater. A delicious art house movie theater slapped every rando title it could to be edgy and fascinating and all that.  But they still had popcorn.  And coffee.  And I could watch LGBT themed titles without fear in at atmosphere that wasn't seedy or treated poorly. In fact, when I could go, LGBTQ+ newspapers were always free for the taking. This was long before there was an internet. It was a different world. The AIDS crisis had been raging, I was young and couldn't identify, completely what it was th...
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I did a thing...

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A coworker, today, when showing her a picture of my beloved and myself having a fun time before the Millenium Falcon, mentioned, of course, "oh, that looks like fun, right in front of that airplane thing." That airplane thing. You see, like, I had always heard about people living under rocks. That things are truly part of common culture (I mean, the first bloody flick came out in 1977!), are sometimes bypassed by few. I know who the Prime Minister is of Canada. It's that hottie, Justin Trudeau.  I know what Red Square looks like, but I've never been. But that moment proved I was in the Deep South. Couple it with my other coworker mentioning, when I was smuggling myself out exactly at the end of the work day to catch the premiere of the Force Awakens, to the strands of, "oh, that's a Star Wars thing, right?" Or when my other teacher colleague wore a mask and I mentioned he looked like Bane in Batman. He greeted me with a look of fright. ...
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