I know this isn’t like my usual blog post. Superman? Coronavirus era? This has nothing to do with horror unless you’re counting the horrors of the reality we’re all living in right now. And our reality is horrific. Empty grocery shelves. People knocking over grandmas for toilet paper. A complete evil clown-show of a government. And of course, the Coronavirus. It’s scary. Too scary for me to escape to my usual getaway of slashers and revenge flicks. Too scary for anything Stephen King or Octavia Butler. Right now, the only thing I can stomach, the only thing that’s saving me, is Superman.
One of the best things about being a part of the #HorrorCommunity on Twitter is that you hear about movies that get looked over by the general masses. J.D Dillard’s Sweetheart (2019) is a shining example of this. 2019 was a good year for horror in that it gave us Jordan Peele’s Us, Ari Aster’s Midsommar, The Shining sequel, Doctor Sleep, and countless other movies that received well-deserved marketing and praise. Sweetheart though was one of the best horror movies of 2019 that didn’t get much hype or marketing. Now that it’s available on Netflix, I think it’s time we give this horror gem a better look.
The Shining is a polarizing movie. Most people love the 1980 Stanly Kubrick adaption, but die-hard Stephen King fans feel differently. Much like King himself, they found that the movie didn’t stay true to the essence of the haunting horror thriller. Forty years later, Doctor Sleep is picking-up where The Shining left off, but horror fans are wondering how it lives up to the box office hit that precedes it, and the beloved and haunting novel it follows.
It’s Been a Long Time. I Shouldn’ta Left You
Happy Halloween! Let’s celebrate by talking about Little Monsters. But first, an apology.
Sorry I’ve been gone for so long. Teaching and writing took up so much of my time that unfortunately, the blog suffered a little. The good news is that I’m back with a small review of the brilliance that was Little Monsters.
The newest season of Black Mirror premiered last week and though I wasn’t exactly impressed with the season as a whole, one episode shined among the rest. The first episode titled, “Striking Vipers,” left me contemplating love, sexuality, and how they relate to black men as a whole. Needless to say, this article will discuss the episode in great detail. If you haven’t watched it yet and want to avoid spoilers, stop reading, go straight to Netflix. If you don’t feel like watching the episode, there’s a spoiler-filled summary below.
All That We Destroy- A Performance.
So I know I’ve been gone for a while. I’m sorry. But I have a great but spoilery review of Into the Dark’s newest installment: All That We Destroy. First though, a little song.
I remember the first time I saw The Craft. It was a Saturday and I was either nine or ten, flipping through channels looking for something good and scary to watch. I paused when I realized the movie was about witches, but I stayed when I realized that one of the witches was a black girl. Up until then, I was used to black female characters in horror, suspense, and thrillers being the best friend with barely any lines if they were present at all. And though Rochelle, played by the amazing Rachel True, could still fit into that trope being that she is the sole black character in The Craft and has the smallest screen time out of the four main characters, her presence was invaluable.
Of all the classic slashers, I think Leatherface gets the rawest deal. If you think about the slasher pantheon, the big three come to mind: Freddy, Jason, and Michael and then you throw in Leatherface as an afterthought like, “Oh yeah, that dude with the chainsaw.” Maybe I shouldn’t speak for everyone. Maybe I should only speak for myself. That is how I think of The Texas Chainsaw franchise. It’s never been really big on my radar and I think the reason for this has something to do with the fact that Leatherface and I never really had a great introduction. What I mean to say is that every time I tried to watch one the Chainsaw movies, something was off or went wrong. Now though, I think I might be warming up to our southern chainsaw maniac.
I hate escape rooms. Don’t get me wrong, I love mysteries (it’s part of the appeal of horror movies), but the thought of being locked in a room searching for contrived clues with a bunch of strangers does not sound like a good time to me. In fact, it kind of sounds like a unique brand of torture. I can see so much going wrong in a scenario like that. What if we get locked in for real? Or if I’m locked in with a psycho? What about if the game master falls asleep and there’s a fire or something? Yeah, no. Not my brand of fun.
I love stalkers. Wait. Maybe that’s not the right thing to say. What I love is—obsession. The idea of it. The psychology of it. What drives a person to become fixated on another person to the point where they risk their freedom, their safety, their lives, to be closer to them? It goes against evolutionary instinct and yet, it is one of the strongest, all-encompassing, painful, euphoric, delightful, horrible things a person can engage in.