Support Your Local Lousy Horror Movie
Now, you regular readers (sit down, Ma!) can attest that I rarely, if ever, discuss box office on these moist, wrinkled pages – it’s really not a concern of mine and I generally don’t pay too much attention to it unless it means that Ryan Reynolds will be forced into another shirtless role to appease the masses. But I checked on the numbers for Paul Schrader’s abysmal Dominion: A Prequel to the Exorcist (aka, “Buzz’s Shit-Stained Pariah of 2005”) and was delighted to learn that it made $138,311 in its opening weekend on only 110 screens. That’s a per-screen average of $1,257.373 for the weekend. Assuming an average ticket price of $7, we’re looking at a whopping 179.6 people per theatre for the whole weekend… and don’t knock that two-thirds of a person – those little buggers eat their weight in overpriced popcorn!

Seriously, this is the most abysmal turnout for a horror film I’ve ever seen. Did you kids not read my review? Did you mistake my 0 out of 5 Skullies as a recommendation to NOT see the film? Nonononono – the film is a non-stop LAUGH RIOT, people. Please – do us a favor and run out to your local theatre to check this one out. If it doesn’t break a million, Mary Beth Hurt won’t be able to go out to dinner for a whole year.

Eric Nies, Your Agent is Paging You
So the Weinstein & Co. announcements seem to have everyone worked into a self-fanning, “OMGit’sgonnabelikeFourRoomsonlywithoutthetwoboringestdirectors” tizzy with their news about the upcoming Quentin Tarantino/Robert Rodriguez omnibus feature Grind House, which will involve each of the directors shooting a 60-minute horror film, with old-timey trailers, reels, and what-have-you in between. Sort of like Two Evil Eyes meets Amazon Women on the Moon, I guess. Initially the hairs on the back of my next stood up in delicious anticipation: sure, I hate Tarantino’s endlessly derivative and ridiculously so-daring-you-don’t-realize-how-safe-they-actually-are films, and Rodriguez has proven without a doubt that he is far better-suited to direct Power Rangers episodes than anything resembling feature films, but still – if these guys were to deliver flat-out horror movies rather than the genre-hybrid crap they’ve been hemorrhaging lately, might it not be excellent?

I mean, what if our beloved slasher genre was doused with the admittedly bone-crunching action of Kill Bill and the eyeball-popping visual sense of Sin City? Or if Tarantino’s best hissyfits of dark humor and Rodriguez’s percussive editing were used to propel a supernatural gorefest? Couldn’t that be just bliss?!?!?

Then I remembered – From Dusk ‘Til Dawn sucked total ass.

PS – The Grind House has no relation to the early-90’s MTV dance party show The Grind, starring Real Worlder Eric Nies, no matter how hard I wish it did. Rawr.

Guys I'd Like to Pork
I've been up to no good again over at the ladies' horror site Pretty-Scary.net. This month is Sex Month over at the site, and I took the opportunity to write a dissertation on the most fuckable characters in horror films. There's the Catholic Schoolboy (Billy from Silent Night, Deadly Night), the Latin Lover (Miguel from Tintorera), and even the Physical Challenge (Allan from Monkey Shines) -- certainly a flavor for every twisted, unsavory mood. Do head on over and check it out!

NYC to get Hellbent (Hell to Freeze Over)
Here in New Jack City, we're oftentimes treated to first dibs on many things, from fashion to terrorist attacks to club music (and sometimes all three at once). So it's sort of odd that in the Sodom of the east coast (not to mention the cultural capital of the continent -- yes, Kichener, you can suck it!), we have yet to have a single screening of the homo horror movie Hellbent. Paul Etheredge-Ouzts' sissy slasher opus has played everywhere from Philadephia to New Guinea (just a guess), and yet not a single chance for us Gotham kids to check it out -- and I do not consider the Long Island Gay Lesbian Film Festival a viable option, mmkay?

Well, after long last, Hellbent will be screening as a part of the 2005 Newfest (New York Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgendered, Pickles, Onions on a Sesame Seed Bun Film Festival), which begins in mere weeks here in Manhattan. While this year's program does not feature as many "disturbing" or "dark" films as last year's, Hellbent is certainly a glittering gem in the starved, bloodshot, Robotussin-bleary eyes of little horror homos like myself. The screening is on June 10th, and ticket info can be found at the fest's official site. I'm seriously so excited I could shit.

To bone up on your Paul before the screening (wait -- did that come out right?), check out my interview of the disarmingly cute yet batshit insane maverick HERE. Otherwise, I'll see you bitches at the theatre -- I'll be the one in the Pucci tie-dyed unitard performing Medea in front of the concession stand.

Christian Slater: Who Knew?
He is one of the more curious actors of our generation, to be sure: from his breakout role as a teen psychopath in the classic Heathers to his recent turn as Tara Reid's protector (translate: parole officer?) in Alone in the Dark, Christian Slater has apparently chosen roles by handing darts to a chimpanzee and letting it throw them at the casting breakdowns. I can't say I would generally go to see a film because it features him in it, although I wouldn't necessarily walk out of the theatre if his puss popped up on-screen, either -- it's not like he's Billy Bob Thornton, after all.

So imagine my lack of reaction when his grinning mug manifested before me just the other day when I went to see the new Renny Harlin masterwork, Mindhunters (Renny of Deep Blue Sea genius, of course -- the shark movie that he reshot after Paul Schrader shot an "intelligent" and "adult" meditation on giant fish imbued with unholy intellects -- in my world, at least). The movie itself ain't really so bad, despite featuring Val Kilmer (period), and it does offer a few bits of deliciousness for the discerning homo eye -- not the least of which is a loving, lingering full-body shot of Slater's nude backside in a shower scene. Seriously -- when the camera crept around the corner and the fit, well-appointed fella under the shower nozzle came into view, I thought it was Will Kemp (he's in it, too) or the guy who looks like Ethan from Survivor (eh... no idea what his name was). But when we got to the fella's face, it was none other than Slater -- and there's no cut, so no body double was employed here. Hats off to sister Christian for keeping in such good shape for all these years and for having the guts to bare his shitcan for all the world to see. Oh, that's right -- no one went to see the damn movie anyway. Scratch that!

Happy Mother's Day
So even though Mother's Day was technically 5 days ago, we horror fags know better: thanks to one Pamela Voorhees, the real Mother's Day is Friday the 13th. I know I should have come up with something splashy and fabulous for this year's big day, but honestly I've been thrown for such a loop by the godawful Dominion: A Prequel to the Exorshits and the near-indefensibly mean and bleak Wolf Creek that I've been marinating in a hot bath of baby's blood (okay... it's Bloody Mary mix) all week just to calm my nerves (with my panties soaking in some Woolite in the sink, of course). But let me take this moment to give Lady V her props and wish a happy F13 to all you mama's boys.

Speaking of which, this would be a GREAT time to visit the Swag Shop and pick yerself up a killer Mama's Boy t-shirt, which cleverly features CampBlood's resident hockey-mask-wearing retarded sissy, Puckhead. Buy two, they're cheap -- and there's another Friday the 13th in the fall!

Also feel free to endulge your filthy nostalgia with my reviews of the original Friday the 13th and Friday the 13th: Part II. Or Mother's Day, for that matter.

Renny Harlin, You Have My Apologies
So even despite my unabashed love for the killer shark epic Deep Blue Sea, I was too distrusting of Renny Harlin to see his masterwork, Exorcist: The Beginning in the theatre. I did happen to catch the "good bits" later on when it hit DVD, and as I see children ripped apart by dogs on pretty much a daily basis (I do live in Brooklyn, you know), I wasn't too impressed. I was one of those indignant fucks who spouted off about how Paul Schrader (The Comfort of Strangers, Hardcore) had been robbed and how his intellectual approach was smothered by a commercial studio and blah blah, even after having read screenwriter Caleb Carr's scathing indictment of "Maestro Schrader's" work.

So imagine my utter horror when, last night at a screening of Paul Schrader's long-awaited Dominion: A Prequel to the Exorcist, I was treated to what is easily the worst film I have seen so far this year. In fact, were it not for Joel Schumacher's assload Phantom of the Opera blocking up the plumbing of late 2004, Dominion might be the worst film of the last FIVE years. I can't believe how clumsy, overwrought, amateurish, badly-shot, horrifically-acted, poorly scored, and downright lame this movie is. And all with the worst digital visual effects since Xanadu!

In short, it is my new favorite film of all time. Full review to follow...

And You Thought You Were a Pussy
Good friend Tintorera Joe turned me on to this simply brilliant piece of telejournalism -- see what happens when a Japanese teenage pop group is forced to watch The Ring, courtesy of Milkandcookies.com. I will never be embarrassed about anything I do in public, ever...again...

Click HERE for the genius.

Tribeca Film Fest Report: Ridden Hard, Put Away Wet Edition
My love affair with the Tribeca Film Festival is officially over -- with last night's star-studded, red-carpet premiere (yawn...) of the House of Wax remake, the horror portion of the program wound to a close, leaving today free for all of the documentaries on Baghdad to pat each other on the back, or something (I'll be too busy sitting through the godawful broadway Elvis musical "All Shook Up" to care -- no, I'm NOT paying for it, and the guy who plays Elvis is HOT...). Hell -- what's sitting for another 3 hours when I've spent a whole week doing it? I give it 2 days before the piles start setting in...

Anyway, House of Wax was ehhh... it's not a total disaster, but it's certainly nothing worth getting excited about. There's about an hour before ANYTHING happens, and the pace of the film is simply mind-boggling -- I think it was designed to allow people to take coke-breaks without having to miss anything (I did see a certain socialite step out at least once during the screening... I'm just sayin'...). Some gore, a few interesting sequences (the finale in the melting wax house is really neat, actually), and a fantastic, film-carrying performance by Elisha Cuthbert (whom I had the pleasure to meet -- tiny as a bug and sweet as pie -- unlike Paris, who wouldn't even come near me), but it's more House on Haunted Hill than Wrong Turn. Whatever that means...

I'll have a review up in a few days -- right now I have some Hound Dog to attend to...

Montage-a-Homo
I know I'm totally behind the times here, but I just can't stop playing with my Google. No, not Li'l Buzz -- the amazing Montage-a-Google internet photo montage maker-thingie. All you gotta do is click, type in a search term like, oh, say.... Ryan Reynolds, and watch the M-a-G work its magic. If you don't like the images it pulls up, click Create again, and it does it all over!

I've already built gorgeous montages for Betsy Palmer, Eyes of Laura Mars, Susan George, and of course Ryan (actually, type Ryan Reynolds Nude into the search box and see what happens -- very funny). I'd recommend it to anyone with lots of free wallspace and even more free time -- I've included the results for Campblood.org at the right, for your enjoyment: never before has a the window into my mind been so streak-free...

Check out Montage-a-Google NOW!

And while you're there, check out the pictures of creator Grant Robinson... hmm....

Tribeca Film Festival: Gun in My Mouth Edition
So we're rounding the final stretch of the Tribeca Film Festival, and I'm just about ready to hang it up for the year. Aside from getting shut out of screenings and having hours to kill in the armpit of Manhattan (oh, come on -- you try hanging out in the World Financial Center after dark!), I was able to catch a few good flicks here and there, and this weekend brings the promise of some good dead Paris at the East Coast premiere of the House of Wax remake (which I've been getting decidedly mixed reviews of, so far). Here's a mini-wrap of the horror shit I've seen since my last update:

Infection
This Japanese hospital horror is oddly similar to the lost Canadian camp curiosity Blue Monkey, only with a flesh-eating virus in place of a parasite bug. Early on, the potential for supernatural elements and the general hospital drama is pretty fun (this place makes Chicago Hope look like... um... St. Elsewhere?), and the slimy effects are really grody. But a last-act "wha-wha-WHA?" left me with a bad taste in my mouth, as did the frequent and none-too-subtle references to The Shining (the score, the little kid with the mask, the mirrors, etc.). Fun while it lasts -- walk out before the ending ruins it.

Reeker
Here, the ending actually doesn't ruin it, or at least it didn't for me -- others had a hard time with it. But this "lost-in-the-desert-on-the-way-to-a-raaaaaaaave" existential slasher is surprisingly layered, occasionally quite funny, nasty, and a lot of fun. As the kids begin being hassled by a creepy -- and smelly -- thing in a trenchcoat, the question turns from "hey, got any E?" to "hey -- why's that guy missing his legs?". Any film with a toilet death is aces in my book, but this one is even longer and more degrading than normal -- nice. A clever script and better-than-average production values instantly set this one apart from the pack, and in the end the mystery really does hold together.

I think both still have screenings left -- I'd definitely recommend Reeker, and Infection's fun too. Check out the full fest schedule HERE.

Ryan Reynolds Workout Alert!
Just a quick note to let you kids know that the Blade: Trinity DVD boasts a shitload of extra Ryan Reynolds material, including footage of Ryan working out, Ryan snarkily answering questions, and Ryan talking about his diarrhea. He also makes the dubious claim that "women have no anus", which is interesting on a number of levels. In short, the disc is actually a lot of fun, with great audio tracks and bonus material, and of course the film itself, which is actually pretty fun. Check out my review HERE.

Tribeca Film Fest Report: Chapped Ass Edition
So we're halfway through the Tribeca Film Fest, and so far I've been mostly pleasantly surprised with the genre fare and none too impressed with much else. The problem for me is that the schedule runs on about 14 simultaneous tracks, making it literally impossible to see everything you want, and with my duties as a horror writer taking the lead, I'm missing a lot of the documentaries on Baghdad. Oh, wait -- I'm just skipping those because they're depressing. But I did miss Transamerica (which features the lovely Felicity Huffman as a post-op transsexual), which is a bummer. But my ass can only take so much, people -- regardless of what you may have heard to the contrary.

So here's what I've seen thus far in terms of horror, with a recommendation here or there, in case you're in NYC and can catch another screening.

Shutter
This Thai horror film about a ghost who appears in pictures -- and out of them -- is surprisingly good and features one of the most solid twists I've seen in ages. Sure, it's more Girls with Wet Hair, but the ending more than makes up for it.

Modify
This body modification documentary is packed with stomach-turning images and seems to have a sort of point about tolerance toward people who alter their bodies: piercings, tattoos, bodybuilding, and gender reassignment are just a few of the procedures discussed. It's a nice portrait of the piercing community, but it doesn't go quite far enough for me.

Antibodies
German serial killer flick with beautiful photography, a seriously fucked up hero (religious torment and self-righteousness... just like Mother used to make), and a pretty awesome last-act deus ex machina that flies in the face of serial killer conventions. Sort of like Silence of the Lambs meets The Rapture -- with full-frontal male nudity!

Long Distance
A low-budget deal about a girl who gets phonecalls from a serial killer as he makes his way across the country to her suffers from High Tensionitis -- what would have otherwise been a decent story is obliterated by a silly twist that comes off as cheap and manipulative. Monica Keena's cleavage is at it again... (see my Freddy vs. Jason review for more detail). Marred by technical shortcomings and some clumsy direction, this one wasn't one of my favorites.

Premonition
A few neat sequences do not a cohesive film make, as evidenced by this head-scratching Japanese flick about a haunted newspaper that predicts deaths. This movie seriously makes absolutely no sense -- the newspaper literally chases the hero at one point, flying past his car window like the Wicked Witch of the West. The end plays out like a genre version of Groundhog Day (only thankfully without Andie MacDowell), and ultimately the few good scares are unable to hold up the nonexistent plot. A frustrating watch.

Putting the Aft in Craft
Not many people know this, but when I'm not busy scouring the globe for horror films with a queer angle, I like to spend my free time on creative and low-cost home decor projects. You know, the standard stuff: decoupage, faux-finishing, a clever little broken-tile mosaic ever now and then. So it's no surprise at all that I've got a new addiciton: Style Network's new show, Craft Corner Death Match. In this inspired show, "crafters" of various types and backgrounds are forced to compete against one another in nail-biting time-based challenges, as a panel of discerning judges looks on (I've seen everyone from Judy Gold to Frank DeCaro on this fucker), judging their every move. The winner goes on to face off against the Craft Lady of Steel (no, I'm not making any of this up) to try to win such amazing prizes as sewing products and subscriptions to Bust magazine.

Watching people make wind chimes out of silverware and knit at gunpoint is delicious enough, but that's not even the good part. The real kicker is the new addition to the Buzz's Future Husbands of America Coalition, Jason Jones.

Jones is apparently some sort of Canadian (ooooh...) comic and actor who appeared in some lousy movies before winning the gig as taskmaster to a bunch of hot-gluing lesbians. Armed with a sharp suit, an airhorn, and a decided lack of couth, Jason is sort of like a hotter Adam Corrolla (not tough, I realize), and his self-effacing, super-macho routine is hilarious in the face of all this sissy crafting. How can you not love a man who gets to unironically scream things like "Oh no -- SHE'S REACHING FOR THE PINKING SHEARS!" for a living?

Jason's IMDB profile would be utterly uneventful were it not for one intriguing entry: Midnight Temptations, a Skinemax-type erotic thriller that looks to provide lots of sweaty, unconvincing crotch-grinding and overaged strippers trying to act. I can't find any evidence that Jason actually gets nekkid in this trashy tidbit, but damn if I'm not gonna hunt it down and see! Jason has also had recurring roles on Queer as Folk and appeared in the made-for TV epic Terminal Invasion, with none other than Buzz's Future Husbands of America Coalition founder, Bruce Campbell. Oh, were I a urinal cake in the plumingless Port-a-Potty on that shoot...

Tribeca Film Festival: Paris Edition
Those of you who are based in New Jack City will be delighted to know that this year's Tribeca Film Festival is offering up a diverse host of horror and thriller fare, and even one documentary whose horrific real-life imagery rivals the most gratuitous gorefest ever filmed (Modify -- gruesome stuff!).

The Japanese are represented by Infection (about a hospital gone mad -- hey, wasn't that The Kingdom?) and Premonition (about a newspaper that predicts the future -- hey, wasn't that Early Edition?), the Thais have Shutter (about a haunted camera -- hey, wasn't that Stephen King's The Sun Dog?), the Germans have Antibodies (about an incarcerated serial killer who helps a detective track down a murderer -- hey, wasn't that Silence of the Lambs?), and the Yanks have Reeker (a group of kids go to a rave and get attacked by something -- hey, isn't that every direct-to-video movie made in the last 5 years?).

And of course, we'll all always have Paris, as everyone's favorite International Threat to Disease Control Paris Hilton bows in her first big-budget horror film, Dark Castle's remake of House of Wax. 3-D glasses not required; night vision goggles optional.

For more info and tickets, check out the fest's official site. The festivities kicked off tonite with The Interpreter, aka How to Shut Down the East Village Every Weekend for Months without Really Trying.

Ryan Reynolds, You Had Me at Hello
So Amityville: The Unnecessary Remake wasn't the total disaster I expected, but it's certainly nothing worth writing home about, either.

The upside: Ryan spends a good half of the film with his shirt off.

The bad news: when Ryan emerges from the water in his pajama bottoms, there's no wet clingage.

I'll have a full review up once I've replenished my fluids.

New and Improved Movies of the Weak!
Allow me to direct your attention to one of the stranger and more shadowed corners of this here little site, the Movies of the Weak database. Tended to with care by myself and the lovely and elegant Amanda By Night, the page is an ever-expanding resource for those of you who have a special place in your hearts for those campy old chestnuts of television years gone by.

I'm happy to announce that there are a slew of new recaps up (thanks to Miss Amanda!), from Bad Ronald to Scream, Pretty Peggy. In honor of this bounty of small-screen deliciousness, I've also enhanced the page by adding a list of Cross-Referencing elements with which you can navigate the glory. So whether your fetish is for Homes that Look Like Mexican Restaurants or Man-Eating Dogs, you're never more than a few clicks away from total, knee-shaking paradise. This shit puts the Dewey Decimal System to shame, yo!

Check out the unbridled fun HERE.

Hello Meat...
Okay, the Advertising Association of America is out to drive me fucking crazy.

Remember how I totally freaked out a few weeks back about the super-creepy homoerotic Brawny ad where the subordinated husband engages in some facial play and cake decorating with the hot new lumberjack? Well, our favorite repressed suburban hubby is back at it again in the equally bizarre new Burger King commercial, where he is basically assaulted at his front door and forced to eat a Western Omelette Sandwich while the King fornicates with his dog on the living room floor. What the fuck is up with this actor? Is he the new poster child for the powerless educated white man? Can someone please explain this all to me before my head explodes?

For the Burger King magic, click HERE.

For a highly amusing update to the Brawny Man saga, "Innocent Escapes" -- in which you can build your own one-on-one with a different Brawny man -- clicke HERE. My favorite line? "Hey -- I like pickles, too!"

Wax On, Wax Off
Is it just me, or does the House of Wax poster look like something out of a Bukkake video?

Fifty bucks says it was Paris's idea.

In Memorium: Debralee Scott
I was shocked as anyone else to hear that the lovely Debralee Scott -- star of the excellent and overlooked slasher spoof Pandemonium (she plays the no-nonsense, slutty Sandy), as well as Welcome Back Kotter, and much more -- died recently. Even more surprising was the news that she died of "natural causes" when she was only 52 -- quite a sobering thought, really. Regardless of the circumstances surrounding her untimely death, we here at CampBlood.org would like to extend our deepest and most sincere sympathies to the family and friends of Debralee -- she was truly an original.

Amityville: The Happy Meal
If you're like me, you've been looking forward to this week for months, as it will mark Phase 2 of your gradually deepening relationship with Ryan Reynolds's chest hair (you may remember that he was my Horror Hottie of 2004). But for all the noise and hubbub about the new Amityville remake (including the ceremonious box set release of the original 3 stinkers on DVD, complete with a "featurette" about the remake), I'm sure that one essential point has managed to elude you entirely: namely, the caliber of cuisine made available at the premiere party.

Fortunately, the bitches over at Defamer have posted a delightful firsthand account of the tender vittles that were served to lucky partigoers at the premiere celebration last week in El Lay. Click HERE for the juiciness, and remember: nothing is sexier than a man slathered in honey-based barbecue sauce.

Swagfest!
In honor of the Second Coming of Reynolds, I've whipped up a special limited-edition Amityville Whore t-shirt just in time for the release of his new sure-fire blockbuster filmed entertainment. Note that all proceeds from my online shop go toward paying for this site and feeding my poor, sweet malnourished orphan kitties. Buy two -- they're small.

Visit the magic HERE.

Shyamalan-a-Ding-Dong
So things are starting to look interesting in regards to the new M. Night Shantyland movie, There's a Fish with Tits in my Birdbath (aka: Lady in the Water). Reports are everywhere that Mr. Pinot noir himself, Paul Giamatti, is signing on for the lead role of a superintendent who finds a sea nymph in the swimming pool. I'm sorry, but that's just about the lamest concept I've ever heard -- although if you had told me years ago that his next movie was about 2 guys drinking wine for 120 minutes, I probably would have laughed that one off, too.

I Wish I Were a Canadian, Part 1,294
They've got Bob Clark, polite French-speaking people, lapdances, and now this...

Ryan Reynolds (aka: My Future Husband) swept Alpha Canadian Homo Scott Thompson off his wafer-light loafers at the Genie Awards (the Canadian equivalent of the Oscars) with a full man-kiss. I would normally hunt Thompson down and cut him like a hog, but I like his style, so I'll let him go. This time...

Seriously -- I knew that the Genies were super-cool because they've always recognized genre films as being artistically significant (Terror Train was up for Genies, people -- these Canucks know what they're doing). But we get fucking Adrian Brody mauling Halle Berry and they get THIS?!

I apologize for not sharing this image with you earlier (it's from the May 2004 telecast), but I've been keeping it very busy, believe me. A shirt-deprived Ryan hits screens next Friday in the Amityville Horror remake.

I Can't Even Go Straight to Hell
Since it's Friday, I thought I'd make sure that I enter the weekend primed for eternal damnation:

1) The Pope sucks cocks in Hell

2) Enjoy

Yawn City
Saw Sin City today -- eh...

Can't really say I enjoyed it all that much. Yes, it was interesting to look at -- but so is Jason Behr, and even he couldn't hold my interest for 2 hours and 9 minutes without doing something interesting. I guess when you create a universe where everyone is so universally bloodthirsty and without scruples, the beheadings and castrations just lose their oomph after the first hour (did we learn nothing from Kill Bill?). Elijah Wood certainly steals the show as the completely mind-fucking Kevin, and I guess everyone else does perfectly well within the room that their caricatures allow them. If something's going to be that bloody and brutal and disgusting (all of which I admire), shouldn't it at least have some sort of point? Or impact? As expected, lots of style, not much substance -- and a bit of a bore.

Don't It Make My Red Eyes Blue
Hats off to the folks who cut the trailer for the new Wes Craven thriller Red Eye, starring Mean Girl Rachel McAdams and near-zombie Cillian Murphy. Posing as a simple romantic comedy about two cute young folks who meet in an airport (think Forces of Nature, only starring two cute young folks), the preview takes a drastic turn after the wheels leave the ground, leaving the stage set for something sinister and the audience's jaws on the floor. I'm skeptical as to how Craven can keep the tension up when the entire film apparently takes place in the air (and without the star-studded casts of those fabulous Airport movies, why bother?), but I'm definitely impressed so far. But please just don't let this wind up another Panic Room...

Feminism: The Revenge
It's the beginning of the month, which means I've got a new Queer Fear column up on the deliciously diabolical Pretty-Scary.net (the first site for and by women in horror... and me). Heidi (sort of the Crypt Keeper in espadrilles) has started naming a theme for each month, and the theme for April is Feminism in Horror film. Not having even the slightest clue as to what Feminism is (flesh-eating virus? small citrus fruit? boy-band?), I embarked on a personal journey to discover how Feminism could relate to this genre that we know and love. Chock-full of references to hot flicks like Night School, Sleepaway Camp, and more, it's a bit of a hoot, and a whole lot of educashun.

Check it out over HERE. If you like it, vote on it, and feel free to leave comments in the comments section! But please don't talk about my butt -- it's a sore subject.

Buzz Gets Otherworldly
If you read this shit regularly (and I hope you don't), you might have noticed that I have little interest in comic books. So you might wonder why I'm really, really excited to announce that artist Phil Jimenez just this week released the first book of his series Otherworld (through Vertigo, a division of DC Comics). Well, let me essplain:

First off, Phil is a legend in the industry at a young age, having drawn Wonder Woman, The Invisibles, X-Men, and others (his hand was even double for Toby Maguire's in the costume-sketching scenes of Spiderman). His work is detailed, lush, and captures both character and movement in ways that have impressed just about everyone.

Second, Phil is openly gay and has always been, and brings his entire person -- queer included -- to his work. Otherworld, which is populated with a vast array of characters, has an openly gay character (or two? We'll see...), is refreshingly multi-ethnic and multi-racial, and boasts several strong female leads.

Third, Phil based all the characters on living models, and thinking that I for some reason had the right face for one of the characters, he was kind enough to give me a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: be a character in a comic. And not just any comic -- a big, complex, beautiful meditation on war, responsibility, youth, and friendship. Now, I've only seen issue one (which came out yesterday), but damn if this book isn't all about D-R-A-M-A: cheating girlfriends, sissies, rivalries, tempers, drugs, sickness, and lots of other juicy bits. It's like if the cast of the O.C. were literally swept up in a giant dustpan and dropped into the middle of Willow (a magical realm is at war with a technological realm, and a bunch of L.A. kids get stuck in the middle -- yes, kind of like the old Dungeons and Dragons cartoon meets Tron). Not sure where it's going, but I'm looking forward to finding out -- and would be even if I didn't have a special attachment to the project. Do go check it out.

And my character is STRAIGHT! Mother will be so proud...

Valley of the Dolls
So I read on Dread Central today that the bizarrer-than-thou Japanese horror/comedy/dental hygeine film Marronnier is getting a DVD release this summer, which I think is smashing news. I caught the freaky little story (which is about a dollmaker who turns pretty girls into pretty wax girls -- and we're not talking douchebags like Paris Hilton, either) at the NYC Asian Film Fest last summer and wrote up my review HERE. Check it out -- and definitely catch the film if it pops up near you -- I have a feeling it's much more fun with an audience (like most things, right kids?).

Revenge of the Voluptuous Horror of the Search String Report
In installment 3 of "What really sick people look for on the Internets", (previously featured on 12/6 and 2/16), we enjoy yet another window into the truly twisted minds that find their way to my little corner of Sodom. Simply put, these are actual search strings that caused various search engines (Google, DogPile, what-have-you) to bring people to my site.

Recoil and enjoy…

"brawny homoerotic "
Ah, yes. Variations on the "horrifyingly homoerotic Brawny paper towel ad" search were very popular this month -- I guess I wasn't the only one who got tinglies in all the wrong places after seeing the disturbing and surreal ad. I find it comforting to think that such bizarre tactics are being used to sell paper towels, of all things -- what next? Rape fantasy shampoo commericials?

"sluts smothered in gravy"
Considering recent events at Wendy's (see the previous post below), I guess this really isn't that far from the realm of possibility. But even so -- I think a gravy is far too heavy a sauce for a slut: any sexually rapacious individual should be served with a lighter sauce, like a puttanesca.

"bareass male wrestlers"
Probably led here due to the hot open-ass gym class wrestling in A Nightmare on Elm Street 2, this person was likely disappointed nonetheless to find a cartoon featuring the love theme from Eyes of Laura Mars instead of... well, bareass male wrestlers.

"willem defoe in drag"
Not something my site features, and not something I ever want to see. I repeat: EVER.

"chuckie is retarded"
Oh dear! I hope this person isn't referring to CampBlood 'Special' Correspondent Chuckie, who has provided this site with oodles of wonderful insight and information (click HERE for his Comic Con coverage)! We prefer to consider him "a little undercooked".

"commander usa's groovy movies"
I adore this person, whoever he or she may be, because he/she shared a part of my childhood by enjoying the fat, chainsmoking superhero Commander USA and his cult movie show on Saturday afternoons in the 80s. The commander gave me my first glimpse of gems like The Children (and an oral fixation that won't quit).

"horror vampire sex nun cumming"
I had no idea Alan Cumming was a nun...

"is patrick wilson gay or straight?"
Straight. Which makes his hair in the abysmal Phantom of the Opera even less excuseable.

"nyc the hole jonathan robert threesome st. patrick's day"
This sounds like one of those Whose Line is It, Anyway? skits when they have the audience scream random things at the players and make them form a skit out of it. Although seeing Wayne Brady and Greg Proops act this one out would be a bit disturbing...

"i would laugh at guys in highschool who said funnier alanis"
Uh, yeah... that's... really funny...

"skeletons fagit"
Yay - someone else found it funny when the right-wing bullies in Dave Decoteau's Skeletons misspelled 'Faggot' -- as they carved it in one of the heroes' backs. Oops -- makes Winona Forever look like nothing by comparison.

"child's hazmat suit"
Believe it or not, I do feature these HERE. I'm looking out for you, and your evil adopted spawn.

Returning Bonus!

Scared Shirtless
Here’s the list of celebs (and non-celebs) that the freaks of the world would like to see shirtless this month (seriously, every item below + “shirtless” led someone here), in order of popularity:

Johnny Messner (127 different people)
Christopher Knight
Jesse Bradford
Evan Farmer
Jack Noseworthy
Sean Faris
Chad Allen
Eli Roth
Country Western (?)
Shawn Ashmore
Men
Ryan Reynolds
Dominic Purcell
George Eads
Jeremy Bloom
Elijah Wood
Christian Bale
Jeepers Creepers 2 guys
Nathan Watkins
Athletes
Joey Lawrence
Stephen Geoffreys (cough! here...)
Josh Hartnett
Seth Green
Riley Smith
Johnny Crawford

 

 

 

Tobe Hooper, Call Your Agent
Check this brilliance out:

CALIFORNIA: FINGERTIP FOUND IN CHILI AT WENDY'S
A woman bit into part of a human finger while eating a bowl of chili at a Wendy's restaurant, health officials in San Jose said. Officials said the fingertip was about one-and-a-half inches long and contained part of a manicured nail. The woman, who asked officials not to identify her, immediately spit it out and then vomited several times, said Martin Fenstersheib, the health officer for Santa Clara County. Health investigators seized all the ingredients at the restaurant and are tracing them to their manufacturers. They also asked all the employees at the restaurant to display their fingers; all digits were accounted for, officials said. (AP)

Note the crackerjack crisis-management skills being employed here: the employees were asked to show their digits, as if someone missing an inch and a half of a finger would still be serving Frosties. Considering that Wendy’s is notoriously anti-feminist (they’re staunchly anti-choice) and anti-gay (they have discriminatory employment policies and pulled their advertising from Ellen when she came out), I wouldn’t be surprised if Wendy’s were slowly disposing of lesbians through their succulent Dollar-Menu chili. The similarities to the plot of Texas Chain Saw Massacre 2 are uncanny -- does this mean Tobe Hooper gets a residual?

Screamin’ Screening in NYC
So the rapidly-expanding Mingle Mangle NYC social club (for those who love horror and those who love them) is hosting their first ever screening party next Tuesday, March 29th at Sugar in Manhattan (at 311 Church Street). There’s a happy hour from 5-7 and the screening proper is at 8 (a collection of shorts and feature trailers from members of the group)… and then more booze. These events are actually quite fun and I’ve met some great folks at them – do stop by if you’re in the area (in the interest of total disclosure, I do have a short screening in the program).

I’ll be the one in the Burberry onesie licking all the doorknobs….

Yes, Alice - There Is an Easter Bunny
I flat-out refuse to watch Peter Rottentail, so I opted to review another ridiculously Catholic (read: guilt-based) movie, Alice, Sweet Alice, just in time for the celebration of the rising of our Lord and Savior, the Marshmallow Peep. Check out my review -- it's quite funsy.

In an odd bit of synergy, CampBlood.org co-consiprator and all-around good-time gal Amanda By Night (she's the brains behind most of the Movies of the Weak) has just reviewed Alfred Sole's other horror entry, the excellent slasher spoof Pandemonium, over at the luxuriously feminine Pretty-Scary.net. Do check it out, and don't overdo it on the chocolate -- you're looking a bit soft as it is.

Gay by Dawn: One Night at Sarah Lawrence?
Actually, the horror/comedy short Gay by Dawn was made by a Columbia student, but let’s not split hairs. At any rate, the Chicago Horror Film Festival is screening this little number (which is about a bunch of rednecks sitting around telling scary stories as the gay woods around them threatens to Zhuzh them, or something) on April 2nd. I can’t make any claims to the quality of the film, as I haven’t seen it, but I wanted to bring it to the attention of you folks in the Midwest, as I know there’s very little else to do there (all together now: “Asshole!”).

Check out the Chicago Horror Fest’s site for a full lineup (which also features the intriguing Zombie Honeymoon), and if you catch the film (check out its official site for more info), let me know what you think. I also accept e-cards with dancing kittens..

Support Your Local Scream Queen
I owe Debbie Rochon after making some less-than-flattering comments about her appearance in the wretched Final Examination (I think I used the word “unctuous”). So when I received an email from her (okay, it was a mass email – but I can dream, right?) letting me know that her new movie Nowhere Man is screening at the sissy-friendly Quad Theatre in NYC, I had to pass it on. Written and directed by Tim McCann (whose Desolation Angels blew my fragile little mind when I saw it in high school – and not just because of its surreal cameos by Quentin Crisp), the film is about a man (the incredibly eye-friendly Michael Rodrick -- grrrrrr) whose penis is cut off and held for ransom by his wife (Rochon).

Wait -- penises and Debbie Rochon? That should be enough to get you queens in the theatre! The film is apparently quite a twisted ride, and you can be assured that I'll be there to ogle Rodrick's member -- AWOL or no -- at least once.

For showtimes, visit the Quad’s website.

America’s Next Top Leper?
So apparently next week’s America's Next Top Model will reveal that one of the contestants has contracted a disfiguring (flesh-eating?) virus, likely from sharing reanimated corpse Tyra Banks’s coke-straw. Actually, signs point to the fact that Michelle spends a lot of time with her face pressed to a wrestling mat as the real cause of the outbreak: you queens who do amateur wrestling at the Eagle should take note. I’m really hoping for something out of Dawn of the Dead or Cabin Fever here (as loathe as I am to invoke the foul movie), but the reality may be closer to what this poster on fansofrealitytv.com predicts:

Maybe she got a cold sore?
Hey, herpes is contagious and most people don't like having to deal with the cold sores.
That or a severe bout of pimples?
I doubt it's something that sends the model to the leprosarium in Molokai ala 19th century.

Well, conveniently enough, Elite Modeling Agency does happen to have its own leprosarium on East 22nd Street…

Chris Columbus: Ascot Queen?
So my friend and I were walking down Lexington Avenue in Manhattan last week when we noticed a somewhat ramshackle-looking crew shooting at a very busy intersection right outside of the YWCA. My friend wondered aloud, "Hmm, what do you think they're filming?" and after a quick assessment of the scene (no discernable stars, a simple shot of two women meeting and hugging "hello" on the corner), I responded, "Two women hugging in front of a YWCA? Probably another one of the those dyke TV shows."

Oddly enough, I was totally wrong. In fact, this ragtag bunch of artisans was filming exterior scenes from the upcoming suckfest Rent, which places Chris Columbus at the reins of the beloved East Village AIDS musical. Yes, that Chris Columbus. Yes, the one who wrote Gremlins and directed the two shitty Harry Potters. And Bicentennial Man.

Anyway, we popped by again a little later and the kids were a block down shooting in front of an Au Bon Pain (?!), with a few neat 80's-looking taxis in the foreground and that guy with the annoying scarf prancing down the sidewalk. Which made me wonder -- does Chris Columbus have some kind of scarf fetish? I mean, the narrator from Rent and Harry P. sport very similar neckwear. And then I think further -- hey, didn't the little girl from Adventures in Babysitting wear a scarf, too? And then my head almost blows clear off my shoulders -- WAIT! Wasn't the openly gay narrator from Rent IN Adventures in Babysitting?!

It's true, lady. Anthony Rapp has come full circle.

It's Almost Friday -- Where's My Remake?!
So here we are, with the ghastly Ring Two riding at number one at the box office (you people just don't listen), and for the first time in a long while, we have a remake opening on Friday that is NOT a remake of a horror film. Yes, in two short days you too can bear witness to Guess Who, the long-awaited screwball comedy remake of the classic Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?.

Or maybe you'd be better off to just sit in bed and complain instead -- I was unfortunate enough to catch an advance screening of this stinker and can assure you that it is the unfunniest comedy I've seen since Schindler's List. Wait -- was I just Punk'd?

Seriously -- skip it and see The Ballad of Jack and Rose instead. There's a gay character (I won't tell you who... mwuahahahah!), lots of hystrionics, gorgeous cinematography, and Catherine Keener doing her best Tori Amos impression. Fabulous!

Fuck Time Warner Cable
So you regular readers (and I know who you are... both of you) may have noticed that I haven't posted much in the last week. You may think that this is because I've been busy masturbating furiously to the press materials for the CBS made-for-Sci-Fi-wannabe Spring Break Shark Attack, which aired on Sunday. And you would be partly right. Aside from beating my dick like it owes me money, I also moved to a new apartment, and with it changed internet providers, cable, and all that. Well, as luck would have it, I set up my brand newfangled digital cable and VCR to tape this orgy of teen flesh and unconvincing fake killer fish and went to a friend's to watch Alice, Sweet Alice and Psycho III (a combination that I would only recommend to the most devout of Catholics on Palm Sunday). When I returned home, drunk on religious imagery and the glory of Juliette Cummins, I found that my fancy cable had sold me out for a new pair of sneakers, and was no longer working. So instead of a tape filled with half-naked California kids thrashing for their lives as FX artists flogged them with rubber sharks, I had nothing -- nothing but the tracks of my tears.

Anwyay, I bet it was awful -- but it did boast a lead performance by Riley Smith, perhaps best known to you perverts for his performance in the boys-in-undies-in-peril epic The Brotherhood.

Tony Todd: The Candyman Can
So Media Blasters is holding a test screening of its upcoming Shadow: Dead Riot at the NYC Two Boots Pioneer Theatre this Wednesday. In case you don't know what a test screening is, it's your chance to go see a movie and actually complain about it to the people who made it, in the hopes that they fix the damn thing before it comes out. So if you're still smarting from the November elections and need your voice to be heard, head on down to the Boots and bitch your little head off about this zombie actioner, which stars Tony Todd (seen most recently in the abysmal and grammar-defying Murder-Set-Pieces) and was written by Fangoria's Michael Gingold (who also penned Dave DeCoteau's Leeches). Ordinarily, a film about a prison riot and an army of ghouls wouldn't really be my cup of tea, but one particular line from the press release got me good and interested:

"Shadow stars Todd in the title role of a supernaturally endowed killer"

"Supernaturally endowed"? Sign me up!

For the full story and RSVP info, click HERE.

Ring Around the Bathtub
So I just got out of a screening of Ring Two (or The Ring 2, or The Ring Two, or whatever), and my prelimiary thoughts are this:

- 2005 will be known forever as the Year of the Bathtub. With Ring Deux, Hide and Seek, and Constantine prominently featuring tubs as primary setpieces, we will all soon fully undertand what the Bold Look of Kohler is really all about.

- Take a leak before you enter the theatre -- it's essentially 2 hours of dripping faucets and roaring surf.

- Creepy kids are officially no longer scary to anyone except their agents.

- Man, are the folks who are remaking Dark Water gonna be PISSED...

I'll have a full review up in a few days. Y'all come back now, ya hear?

Hellbent to Rock NYC
After months of bated breath (even Altoids can't help) and toe-tapping, we New Yawk sissies are finally going to get to see the homo slasher Hellbent, as it proudly rolls out its theatrical run on June 17th. Director (and gentleman) Paul Etheredge-Ouzts let me know that the sissy slasher will likely run in one of the Chelsea-area theatres (so that the girls don't have to stumble too far in their heels from the bars), which means it will likely screen a few auditoriums down from the Sing-Along Sound of Music and Xanadu.

I'll be at every screening, mark my words: look for the guy in the adult diaper licking the armrests in the back row.

April Terrors Bring... May Terrors?
So my favorite NYC theatre, the Two Boots Pioneer, is beefing up for a frighteningly good spring with the announcement of a few great "gets":

First, the 'Boots will boast an exclusive run of the zombie comedy Dead and Breakfast, which has gotten some great reviews and features recently outed Portia deRossi and a few other non-lesbians. The flick runs at 9pm nightly from April 20-26 (although, if the Boots runs of Tarnation, Donnie Darko, and Primer are any indication, it could run through Dubya's third term).

And the Boots and Fangoria announced that, in the continied bid to transform the theatre into a grindhouse of the August moon, Fango will be running a monthly horror film series at the joint called Monster Monday Movie Nights that looks to feature some pretty fun titles, including the Warwick Davis-starring Skinned Deep and Hiruko the Goblin. Check out Fango for the official announcement. I will note that there have been a few failed Monday-evening genre series at the Boots in recent years, but let's hope that Fango has better luck (as long as they don't play I, Zombie).

Buzz Turns 30; Pope Institutes 24-hour Suicide Watch
It's true, I've entered middle-age. Thankfully, I had many friends near me in my time of need and did not, as planned, fall on a cursed Samurai sword in a final attempt to escape my fate. Yet.

My dear friend Pikelz was kind enough to surprise me with the effigy at the right, which was of course quickly devoured by the drunken revelers that joined to celebrate the loss of my youth and sanity.

Condolences and Liquor Depot gift cards can be sent to buzz@campblood.org.

Holy Sweet Fucking Jesus Christ Shit No
The Hollywood Reporter shit in our collective Cheerios today when they reported that Quentin Tarantino may take time off pretending to be a pussy magnet and try his hand at writing and directing an installment of the Friday the 13th series. Amusingly, the story is full of inaccuracies and just plain odd writing, leading me to wonder if the HR even knows what F13 is. Regardless, this new Tarantino installment would prominently feature blatant racial sterotypes, several out-of-work actors from the 70's, rampant kitch product placements, and Uma Thurman's toes. I'm all for mixing up existing franchises with unconventional talent, but I'd sooner see Lars von Trier direct a Friday film than Tarantino, who, by helming an actual remake (as opposed to merely ripping off other movies obliquely), may actually create a vortex of self-referentialism that would suck the entire universe into its fast-talking, snivelly maw.

Something Wicker This Way Sucks
It's official: the long-rumored remake of the 1973 classic thriller The Wicker Man (which also happens to be one of my all-time favorite movies EVER) will be starring none other than Nic "Don't Call Me Unless It Sucks and I Blow Shit Up" Cage. This truly is a disturbing universe, people -- even though tried-and-true misanthrope Neil LaBute will be helming the remake, I don't know if even his advanced skills at potato-puppeteering (see also: Renee Zellweger in Nurse Betty) will be able to wrangle a decent performance out of actor-turned-shit-shoveler Cage. Besides, is it really possible to expect anyone other than The Equalizer himself (Edward Woodward) to play the browbeaten Sergeant Howie?

Search Me! No, Really -- Search Me!
I'm very pleased to announced some improved functionality around these parts (um, no -- not those parts -- they haven't worked for years...): the lovely geeks at Google have provided CampBlood.org with some lovely Search boxes that will allow you to look for your favorite things both within these hallowed halls and without. For example, if you want to know where on CampBlood you can find the dirt on Ryan Reynolds, simply type his name into the search box at the top of the page, click the CampBlood.org radio button, and bask in the glory of the search results (alternately, you can select Web to find info elsewhere on how to buy his movies, etc.). The best part is that I only have to give Google a pint of fresh blood a week for the next 18 years to pay for this delightful enhancement -- and it doesn't even have to be mine!

And Today's Secret Word is: Schadenfreude
I have no idea what this is or where it came from, but I can't fucking take my eyes off it!!

Thanks to Chris for passing it along... the original location is HERE.

Parlez Vous Homo Zombies?
So I'm going out on a limb here, as I don't speak a word of French and really can't vouch for the content here, but a French company has just released a DVD compilation called Bloody Gays that apparently features a series of horror shorts about homos. Now, even a complete culture toad like me can deduce that Le Club de Garcons Morts means Mort wore Comme de Garcons to the Club, but as for some of these other titles, you're on your own: Les Ombres de la Nuit, Baiser Nocturne, Homo Zombies, Grindhouse, Le Plan-Cul de Jeffrey a Hollywood. Grindhouse is directed by Joshua Grannell, whose A Nightmare on Castro Street was pretty amusing, so that one's certainly worth a look -- and there are a few beefy specimens on the back cover who look like they might look good covered in fake blood.

Check out the website for details, but only iffa you speaka the French (click on the Bloody Gays link at the left of the page). Shout-out to Remi for the heads-up.

Damn those Bloody Gays! No, wait -- that's the bloody British...

The Video Closet Creaks Open
So this is more "housekeeping" than "news", but what the fuck -- I don't have time to build a Housekeeping section. I'm excited to announce that I've built a CampBlood.org Video page that now houses all the delicious video content that this site has to offer, from the new Video Mashup series (there's a second Friday the 13th Part III vs. The Beverly Hillbillies clip up, courtesy of Tintorera Joe) to the Intimate Portraits (Stephen Geoffreys is a popular boy!) to the Telephone Harrassment series and the Halloween megamix. Never before has your downloading time been so fruitful!

Click HERE to check out the awesomeness.

October Moons Over My Hammy
Fangoria reported this week on a new homo horror flick called October Moon, by David DeCoteau co-consprirator Jason Paul Collum. Naturally, your fearless fag familiar dove in to get the real story (you know, all the news that's NOT fit to print, or something) and I'm proud to say that I'll be running an interview with this young homo horror maverick in the near future.

Check back for the goods -- in the meantime, check out the movie's official site for more info on Wisconsin's faggiest fright fest...

Buzz is Pretty, Harder and More Often
I've got another monthly Queer Fear column up on Pretty-Scary.net, and this one's a doozy: it's called "Slumber Parties: They're Not Just For Lesbians Anymore", and it's about how the entire horror film slumber party mythos was actually invented by lesbians and accidentally perpetuated by the mainstream to the point where girls dancing naked for one another actually seemed normal. I think it's quite insightful, but then again it's 1am and I'm drunk...

Anyway, check it out and let me know what you think: click HERE for the magic.

The Oscars and All That Shit
So did everyone else find the Oscars as boring as I did? Maybe if there were better films released this year starring prettier people, the Oscar producers wouldn't have needed to resort to parading around non-working actresses (and hot tail) like Salma Hayek and Penelope Cruz and triple-booking Beyonce the Valley of the Dolls to sing all the songs. Dangling racial carrot Chris Rock to attract a more "urban" audience to the show was a failure, as everyone apparently went to go see Diary of a Mad Black Woman instead.

Highlights included:

The Sydney Lumet retrospective-thingy, which wisely ended with behind-the-scenes footage of his new film, which stars Vin Diesel apparently playing Jon Favreau in some sort of courtroom drama. This is the second-best Oscar moment EVER, after Michael Caine accepting his award for Hannah and Her Sisters from the set of Jaws: The Revenge.

Chris Rock saying White Chicks at least 20 times.

The Counting Crows featuring Sideshow Bob.

Jamie Foxx's frenzied attempts to figure out if the announced Best Sound Recording winners were from his movie after their names were announced, but not the name of the film they worked on.

The complete absence of Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony, Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, and the Simpson girls -- just for one night.

Oh, yeah -- did I mention Cursed SUCKED?

Keanu, Why Can't You Be More Like that Brawny Man?
So I saw Constantine, and it was equal parts amusing and forgettable -- some of the scenes on their own were interesting enough, but they don't really fit together in any kind of satisfying way. I liken it to being told a story by a creative yet ADD 4-year-old who makes everything up as he goes along.

But the really fascinating thing at the Constantine screening (besides the fact that it was filled with homos, for some reason -- is Keanu still on Rentboy.com?!) was the legitimately horrifying commercial that preceded it. If anyone out there knows what the fuck the people at the Brawny paper towel company are up to, please tell me immediately -- I need resolution. If you have yet to see the new Brawny theatrical commercial, please go HERE immediately and click on the clip called "Role Reversal".

Why Brawny needs to employ homoerotic imagery (including the new Queer-Eyed Brawny Man essentially shooting his wad on another man's face and then wiping it off with a paper towel) and truly unsettling themes of dominance and submission in order to sell paper products is waaaaaaaaay beyond me. But hey -- that new Brawny Man sure looks cute in them jeans!

Curse of the Queerwolf?
So my original intentions to ignore Cursed like a twentysomething at a NAMBLA buffet may have fallen to the wayside: one of my favorite spies has confirmed that yes, there is an honest-to-god gay subplot! Not that we should be surprised, given that screenwriter and Alpha Homo Kevin Williamson has plugged queer characters into Dawson’s Creek (Jack), Scream 2 (Neve’s FBI guard), and sort of into The Faculty (Clea Duvall is called a lesbian). But considering that the entire film has been thoroughly Miramaxed since conception (recasts, cuts, trims, reshoots, trimming for a PG-13, blah blah), I’m surprised it’s even a werewolf movie anymore. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were billed as "a Martin Scorcese Picture" by this point.

Anyway, the presence of a gay subplot and some potentially arousing high school wrestling just may make up for the excised beheadings and other gore, not to mention the presence of Scott Baio. Besides, the buzz I've heard is generally that it's campy, fun, and a great popcorn movie (at the expense of scares, gore, and any kind of dark underpinnings), which isn't always a bad thing.

Return of the Voluptuous Horror of the Search String Report
As things are a bit slow on the horror front these days (I’m sorry, but a herd of wild Ryan Reynoldses couldn’t drag my ass to see Boogeyman), I thought I’d revisit the colossal perversion known as the Search String Report. I first featured this garden of unearthly delights back on 12/6 (scroll down for history), when I offered a window into the truly twisted minds that find their way to my little corner of Sodom. Simply put, these are actual search strings that caused various search engines (Google, DogPile, what-have-you) to bring people to my site.

Recoil and enjoy…

"janitor stuck in store overnight movie"
I don’t feature the late-eighties Frank Whaley/Jennifer Connelly film Career Opportunities anywhere on this site, although I probably should, given that it is one of the most horrifically un-funny comedies of the late twentieth century. Meaning, of course, that I adore it. But how this person ended up here is beyond me.

"captioned images of sissies and sissy"
Hmm. So Sissy Spacek hangs out with the gays, eh? Let me take a crack at one of the captions: “Sissy gets her ‘dirty pillows’ zhuzhed by her favorite sissies.”

"what are the types of power displayed in hedda gabler"
Easy: power windows, power locks, and power steering. Just keep her away from the flare gun in the glovebox.

"weird ocean animals"
Some poor aspiring oceanographer was lured to these prurient pages by either my review of Tintorera or my incessant references to the elusive narwhal.

"Johnny Messner gay boyfriend"
Oh, come on now – we’re just friends. I don’t tie myself down to just one silverback gorilla at a time…

"walter peyton"
Umm… I don’t even know what that is.

"jamaican cause and effects of drug addiction"
What?! I didn’t even review I Still Know What You Did Last Summer!

"beefy nipples"
Ew, ew, ew ew ew ew ew ew eeeeeeeeeeeeeww.

"beastiality Santa reindeer"
They’ve got it all wrong – see, I embrace the commercialism of Christmas and denounce its religious origins. You’d be more likely to find “Bestiality Jesus manger” (including the correct spelling of “beastiality”) on this site.

"soggy biscuit contest"
Ah, the old fraternity tradition puts in an appearance. See, you get all the pledges to drop trou and stand in a circle, facing inward. On a small table in the middle, place a large biscuit or table-water cracker. At a designated start, all pledges must then beat off and spill the fruits of their labor onto the biscuit. The last one to finish… well, you can probably guess the rest.

"talking vagina movie"
They could have been looking for Chatterbox, or they could have been looking for Glitter. The world will never know.

"Blade Trinity Filipino soundtrack lyrics"
Somewhere, a Karaoke bar is about to get very scary.

"causes of blueballs"
You’ve come to the right place, fella…

"Mr. Mouthy Mouth and other icky gross stuff"
I’m sorry, but that sounds like codespeak from a child molestation after-school special and has NO business directing anyone here except my (imagined) therapist.

Bonus!

Scared Shirtless
Here’s the list of celebs (and non-celebs) that the freaks of the world would like to see shirtless this month (seriously, every item below + “shirtless” led someone here):

Johnny Messner (97 different people)
Christopher Knight (also very popular)
Evan Farmer
Dominic Purcell
Nelly (no, not you, sweetie…)
David Hyde Pierce
Chris Noth
Matt twining
Jesse Bradford
Cute men
Young men
Hairy men
Muscle men
Athletes
Debbie Rochon
Shawn Ashmore
Sean Faris
WB (yes, the entire network)
Bruce Boxleitner
Ryan Reynolds (umm... see previous posts)
Julia Louis-Dreyfus
Joey Lawrence
James Barbour
Johnny Depp in Freddy Nightmare on Elm Street
Babydaddy
Jack Noseworthy
Stephen Geoffreys (cough! here...)
Hank Harris

 

Random Horrific Image of the Week
It's been a strange one for me, mostly due to a nasty stomach flu that had me vomiting for 14 hours straight (17 times, natch). Sure, there are those who find it far easier to blame my gastrointestinal duress on the fact that I had attended a press screening of Hitch a mere hour before the cookies began tossing themselves -- but I'm not buying it. Will wouldn't do that to me!!

So in the spirit of my strange fever-dream of a week (it's always about you, isn't it Buzz?!), I thought I'd share this truly disturbing photo, which was provided to me by my good friend Trixie Liquors. If anyone can accurately describe what is going on in this photo in 50 words or less, I'll give you a free t-shirt.

Enjoy.

My Bloody Valentine: Round 2
For those of you who have yet to check out the deliciously ghoulish CampBlood Homo Horror Valentines, hustle your buns over HERE for some free Print-and-Cut illustrated man-meat. And woman-meat, if that's your thing. Devised by illustrator Andy Swist, these naughties are a wonderful alternative to the same old "I Choo-Choo-Choose You" bullshit.

As a side note, I've been a wee bit disappointed at the dearth of horror-related Valentine's Day activites going on out there in the weirdoverse, but so be it... I guess most of us horror geeks will be extra-busy bussing tables at Houlihan's for loving couples that night, right?

Right?

My Bloody Valentine: Round 1
For those of you in NYC, the Two Boots Pioneer Theatre (a house whose programming over the last year has been the best in the city for fans of the obscure and prurient) is hosting a fabulous Valentine's Day precursor: A Date with Barbara Steele. Yes, on Sunday, February 13th, you can see a triple bill of 35mm prints of the unsinkable Ms. Steele's The Horrible Dr. Hitchcock, The Ghost, and Castle of Blood. If you're like me (17 and gorgeous), you've likely not seen all of this legendary lady of horror's works, least of all on the big screen -- and what better time to see them than on the evening when boring straight people all over America are wasting their $15 on dinners at Applebee's and Whitman's Samplers?

The fun starts at 4pm and there's a great deal if you see all 3 -- check out the Pioneer's website for details.

If you have a local horror-related event happening this Valentine's day, drop me a line and I'll be happy to make fun of it -- I mean, post it!

To Do: See Boogeyman, Get Married
Allow me to get a little political here and comment on yesterday's New York State court decision that states that same-sex couples must be allowed to Mary. I mean, marry. New York Supreme Court Judge and new personal hero Doris Ling-Cohen ruled that the New York State Constitution guarantees basic freedoms to gays and lesbians, and that those rights are violated when they are not allowed to marry.

In a word, genius. I'm going to go pick out a fierce Vera Wang bridal number right now. I'll be registered at Crate & Barrel, Tiffany, and Colt Video.

For the full story, click HERE.

Cursed: Your Title Irony Quota Has Been Exceeded
We here at CampBlood.org are big fans of horror homo Kevin Williamson for two specific reasons: One, he slipped a "harmonica method" blowjob joke into Scream 2 and no one seemed to notice; and Two, he gave birth to Dawson's Creek. Yes, the whole creek. Yes, even Franketeen's monster forehead.

So it pains us to say that we're getting a serious knot in our girdle over Kev's return to the genre that he loves so well, the supposed werewolf caper Cursed, which again pairs him with horror vet Wes Craven (the film also apparently stars former actress Christina Ricci, former heterosexual Portia di Rossi, and former celebrity Scott Baio). This production has had just about every possible plague, pox, disaster, and cataclysm possible happen to it since inception: delays, reshoots, more reshoots, re-writes and reshoots, more delays, walkoffs, more reshoots, and...well, Scott Baio. So it's almost natural to hear that yet another turd has fallen into Cursed's bowl: it's been cut for a PG-13.

I am officially no longer interested -- now that the studio hacks (literally) have diced out the only thing this puppy had going for it, Evil Mothership Miramax may as well just rename it Phantoms 2 and shit it out on video. No more excuses, no more drama: this is the movie that cried wolf. Literally.

If you're still interested in the flick, Scre4m.com is a great resource.

The Bitch is Back
So those of you who live overseas or spend your weeknights roving the web in a meth-induced frenzy may have noticed that my little corner of heaven here was down for the count for about the duration of Britney’s first marriage. Obviously, things are back up and running if you are reading this – but I apologize if my technical retardation denied anyone even a moment’s distraction from work, sleep, caregiving, or anything else. The trouble, see, was that I reached my Bandwidth limit – that translates to actually having too many visitors, which I guess I can’t complain about. The easy solution was to upgrade to a bigger contract, which of course means less hustler-money for poor wee Buzz. So let me take this moment to beg you shamelessly to patronize the shop – every dollar spent on this fabulous swag goes to either supporting this site or its Mama’s rock habit. There's even a fancy Valentine's Day Sale going on to ease the pain of giving.

Pretty Bandwidthy
The real cuprit of Bandwidthgate is likely the appearance of my latest Queer Fear column over at Pretty-Scary.net, which sent visitors stampeding to these hallowed pages like so many Supermarket Sweep contestants scrambling after canned hams. The new column, entitled “Jason Voorhees: Confirmed Bachelor”, addresses a question as old as the slasher genre itself: Jason, are you Queer?

To check out the bitchiness, click HERE (as an added bonus, Pretty-Scary’s Scary Stud for Febuscary is none other than chisel-chinned Adonis Bruce Campbell. Bask!!).

Birds: 1, Pontiff: 0
In a scenario eerily echoing an unholy collision of The Birds and The Pope Must Die!, Pope John Paul the Crumbling was divebombed recently by several pissed-off Doves of Peace. We don’t need to dig too deep here to find the anti-patriarchal sentiment implicit in such an outburst. But let’s do it anyway -- God’s obviously on our side on this one! (photo snagged from the genii at World of Wonder).

A few notes on the photo... besides his looking flagrantly retarded or somehow infantalized, doesn't Poppa John's left hand look like The Penguin's flippers in Batman Forever? We may be on to something -- it's gang-related!

Hellbent Neighbors to the North
I received a note from a charming fellow up in Upper Kanuckistan letting me know that ReelOut 2005, a queer film and video festival in Kingston, Ontario (or as Scott Thompson would say, "Ontari-ari-ari-ooo!"), is featuring a queer horror program this year that showcases Hellbent, the cinematic lovebaby of forcibly adopted CampBlood Final Boy Paul Etheredge-Ouzts (patent pending). The homo horror feature will be preceded by 2 shorts, Envy for the Dead (I hear you, girl...) and The Night Life, both of which look suitably macabre and fabulous.

For more info on the screening (it's February 5th at 9:30, somewhere north of Cleveland), check out the fest's site: ReelOut. And thanks to Matt for the heads-up and the naked photos. I mean, the photo op and the head. I mean... erg...

Raaaaaaaazzzzberries!
You've gotta be a total fag to pick up that reference to Thoroughly Modern Millie. Oh -- what's that? You got it? Mm-hmm.

Anyway, the folks behind the Golden Raspberry Awards (aka the Razzies) have announced their nominees for 2005 (in conjunction with the Oscar noms, natch). Besides being thrilled that several of my own Worst of the Year picks were featured prominently (Exorcist: The Beginning; Alien vs. Predator; Anacondas: Hunt for the Blood Organ), I was also vindicated in my own sick little mind to see that Baby Geniuses 2: Superbabies carried a stunning FOUR NOMINATIONS, despite that it was seen by exactly seven mentally handicapped senior citizens who wandered into the theatre thinking it was Troy... and Michael Jackson. God bless director Bob Clark (Black Christmas, Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things, Deathdream) and his deranged little heart for pulling so admirable a sweep this late in his career. For the complete list of Razzies (read: Catwoman), click HERE.

Bad Buzz
I've been horribly lax, I know. I decided to take a few days off an visit my dear old Nana in Florida. Beside my flight being delayed due to the passing out of three large rappers (which forced the aircraft to be rerouted to Richmond, Virginia), things went swimmingly and I managed to avoid the biggest snowdump to hit NYC all year. Yes, I'm saying all of this like you care.

BUT...

I have wonderful things in store, I promise, including exclusive CampBlood.org Print-and-Cut Valentines (drive that cute straight co-worker to a frothy-mouthed suicide, fellas!) another contest, and heaps more sass.

Not Much of a Point, Not Very Pleasant. Discuss.
I don’t know if any of you masochists out there had the sheer self-loathing to watch the new Fox series Point Pleasant (I myself would never have had the mettle had my ego had not been boosted by a full hour of Christians v. Lions on American Idol), but in two words, “Uh-uh”. As of this point I gather that the story is about yet another creature from the cloning machine that created Erika Christensen and Evan Rachel Wood, who washes up on the beach of a Southern California town that has been brainwashed to think that it is in New Jersey and proceeds to teach it how fabulous it is. It’s really hilarious how these studio types think that by dropping the NJ-Bomb into every other line of dialogue they can make viewers look past the Californian physiques, mannerisms, locations, and plastic surgeries that belie the show’s true origins.

Sample dialogue:
“So it’s cool how you saved that girl from drowning, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“I think my dad’s gonna have an affair with your ho girlfriend’s ho mom.”
“Yeah.”
“Would you hump me if I didn't smell like gasoline?”
”Yeah."
"I love Jersey!”

That just don’t cut it, folks. If you’re going to convince anyone that Point Pleasant: the Show is in New Jersey (like Point Pleasant: the Town is), they’re going to have to can all the people with natural tans and bring in the lip-liner, stat.

More of a Point, Certainly More Pleasant
In related news, the only reason to actually watch Point Pleasant is the rather-dishy Samuel Page, a young actor who, in a strange coincidence, appeared in two films directed by recent CampBlood.org interviewee, Dave DeCoteau (he appeared in The Brotherhood as Nathan Watkins, and Prison of the Dead). This is another in what is becoming a titillating trend of young horror undie-boys appearing in mainstream fare (see also: Brotherhood II star Sean Faris’s befuddling presence in the pre-teen girlie romp Sleepover). I did some actual "journalism" and checked in with Dave to see what he had to say about prime-time's yummiest new offering.

Dave sez:

I discovered Sam when he came in to audition for me. He had only been in town a few months. He had just graduated from Princeton I think. He was sweet. I cast him in his first film, Microscopic Boy (Ed.: Oh, dear... not a nickname guaranteed to get you dates...). After that I took him to Romania with me for Prison of the Dead where he plays an openly bisexual character. Then of course there was The Brotherhood. Sometimes we get together for Margarettas when I'm in LA or when he was on All My Children in NYC. He's really a very nice kid and the ultimate gentleman. I'm so glad he got a new series. I caught the last few minutes the other night and it seemed pretty good.

Any man who would let me harangue him after I trashed some of his films is a good judge of a gentleman, in my book. But even given my admittedly lukewarm reception of the boys-in-undies genre, I for one am scrambling to my local Blockbuster to catch this little bit of numminess playing a bisexual. I'll report back with my drool-soaked findings. And if you haven’t read the charming Mr. DeCoteau’s interview, it’s right HERE.

A Little Club Soda will Get that Out...
As we are entering a New Year, I thought it was high time to introduce some new shirtage in Ye Ole CampBlood.org Comp'ny Store. I'm pleased to feature two new designs that will tickle your funnybones as well as your fancies, and are guaranteed to get you action of some sort, somewhere, at some point in time, somehow. That's all I can really say. But if you're in the market for a "My Boyfriend Was Eaten By Zombies and All I Got Was this Lousy T-Shirt" or "My Girlfriend Was Dismembered with a Machete and All I Got Was this Lousy T-Shirt" tee, you'll be like a pig in shit when you head over to Merch Central.

Still Pretty, Still Scary
I was just doing some cleanup and realized that, silly cow that I am, I totally forgot to post this earlier: just in case you missed it, my dear ladyfriends over at Pretty-Scary have, due to an unfortunate hacking incident (not the good kind, the computer kind), have changed their domain name to Pretty-Scary.net. They still offer up the very best horror site out there for and by women (and the occasional Queer Fear contribution from little old me), and should be frequented. Any site that offers a Scary Stud of the Month is internet gold in my book.

Come Back to the Five and Dime, Johnny Messner, Johnny Messner
So somehow, I have been unable to find any sort of contact info for one Skully Horror Hottie of the Year Peephole’s Choice Award-winner Johnny Messner. And even more strange, he hasn’t contacted me to pick up his reward. I know that Hollywood is a busy place, but surely news of this great honor found its way into Johnny’s inner circle within mere minutes of the announcement, right? Right? Hello… is this thing on?

Anyway, if you happen to know Johnny Messner personally… can I touch you? Hide in your backseat? Borrow your identity? Seriously – I’d love to alert Johnny of his honor and will deputize anyone who can deliver the message to him. No, deputize is not a euphemism for “top off”, except in certain parts of West Virginia.

Also: special big wet-kissy thanks to KC over at the Johnny Messner Fan Page for invaluable assistance and for posting a host of HOT pics of your favorite snake-boy.

Christopher Knight: My Brady-Daddy
So can anyone tell me what Florence Henderson was feeding her children to raise the beefy hotness that is Christopher Knight, AKA Peter Brady? I find it hard to believe that pure Wesson vegetable oil is responsible for the sterling specimen of manhood currently acting as surrogate father-figure in this season of VH1’s The Surreal Life. The first episode has been overshadowed by Vern Troyer’s admittedly hilarious drunk peeing antics, but the real reason to tune in is the image of half-naked Knight and former supermodel Marcus Schenkenberg emerging from their room to check out the midget watersports. Marcus steps out first, to a chorus of “ooohs” at his career-model form, but is seriously trumped moments later by Knight, who gives Marcus a run for his money in the body department and blows him out of the water in personality. I’ll be watching every night.

Check out VH1.com for pics and such…

In Which I Go Straight to Hell and Do Not Collect $200
I know that pedophilia is not something to joke about on any level. I know that, as a gay man, I should be particularly sensitive about the subject given the public misconception that people who like to molest little boys are somehow homosexual (um... not.). But considering that this is a horror site and a bitchy one at that, I can't let this slide...

The little rats at thesmokkinggun (and I mean that as a come-on) have posted a list of evidence items that the prosecutors are entering in the Michael Jackson child molestation case. Needless to say, things don't look well for America's favorite free-roaming animatronic wax statue.

The list of described acts is utterly disgusting, to be frank -- I won't get into it here as most of it is irrelevant. But one item is naggingly apropos to us weirdos and our queer horror quest: apparently, Jackson enjoyed making prank phonecalls with the little boys. One of his favorite things to say to the people on the other end was, "Does your pussy stink?"

Anyone who's seen Black Christmas can understand why this item is of crucial importance: is Michael Jackson a closet Bob Clark fan?! Does he have a soft spot for telephone-stalker slasher movies? Indeed, as the identity of the killer in Black Christmas is never learned, could Michael Jackson be the breathy-voiced co-ed muderer?? If so, perhaps Formerly-Black Christmas would be a more appropriate title. I know that I, for one, will be watching the trial for further clues.

For more information on telephone harrassment, check out our infinitely informative multimedia presentations HERE.

Chiller Out, People
For those of you in the New Yawk area... isn't this weather fucking awesome?!

Also, be sure to check out your friendly/expensive/overcrowded neighborhood Superconvention, the Chiller Theatre, this coming weekend at the Sheraton Meadowlands Hotel in East Rutherford New Jersey (I know -- enticing, ain't it?). Guests this go-round include white-hot Anchorwoman in Peril Dee Wallace Stone (The Howling, Cujo), Sid Haig (Spider Baby, House of 7 Corpses and 1000 Smash-Cuts), Douglas Buck (the director of Cutting Moments and the upcoming Sisters remake), Ashley Laurence (Hellraiser), Angela Bettis (May), and a bunch of people who basically would show up at the opening of a gas station for a free hot dog.

I'll be there to fuck with as many D-listers as I can and to try to score some quality Eastern New Jersey crank in the parking lot. Be there or be square, scrodes!

For a complete list of guests and directions, click HERE.

Requiem for a Queen
So even though DC Cab, Flawless, the Batman debacles, and Phone Booth weren't enough to sink Joel Schumacher, it looks as though his musical travesty The Phantom of the Opera might be one of the biggest financial flops of all time. Don't worry, though -- you can't keep a good bitch down, and with the Coreys in the shape they're in, I'm sure he could pull a Lost Boys sequel out of his ass in a matter of weeks and redeem himself. Now that I think about it, I bet there's quite a few interesting things that you could pull out of his ass...

At any rate, we're still behind you, Joel -- you directed The Incredible Shrinking Woman, for God's sake! Galaxy Glue yourself together and come back fightin'!