(Not So) Deep Thoughts of the Pop Cultural Persuasion

As noted last time, it's Halloween season, otherwise known to us horror lovers as The Most Wonderful Time of the Year. Working my way through a curated list of horror films has been, to put it mildly, a stabilizing force during a particularly hectic and stressful past few weeks. While all of the bullshit flying around lately—from my personal life to the political sphere—is doing its damnedest to bring down my Halloween high, I raise a blood-soaked middle finger and shout, "Be gone, devil!"

Here are a few random, not so deep thoughts on a few Halloween/horror-related things, and a few non-Halloween/horror-related things.

Not one to mince words, that Dr. Loomis.

Today is Donald Pleasence's birthday! That's reason enough to smile and forget the surrounding idiocy, for at least a brief moment. It's highly appropriately that's this Halloween Hero was born in October. He passed away in 1995, but Dr. Loomis is infinite and eternal.

"Don't let them bury me—I'm not dead!"

Recently revisited The Serpent and the Rainbow (1987) for the first time in ages, although I watched this film to death back in the day, eventually wearing out the VHS. Rewatching, I was reminded of the first time this Wes Craven masterpiece entered my life. Picture it: My hometown, sometime circa 1988-89. Friend's house. Parents in the kitchen. Junior high age kids in the den freaking the fuck out over this voodoo-horror masterpiece. I can still see the boys, screaming out loud, grabbing pillows and putting them over our laps during that scene (if you've seen the film, you know the scene).

This opening still sends chills down my spine.

I loved this movie. No. I was obsessed with it. Even today every scene or line of dialogue feels like home. Wes Craven made some truly powerful and important movies, and this will always be one of my very favorites.

The abuse heaped on poor Bill Pullman is astonishing, and the actor responded with an exceptionally powerful performance in what I think was his first starring role. The story of a Harvard anthropologist exploring the mysterious Haitian voodoo practice of zombification is never anything short of riveting, with plenty of great jump scares, some truly disturbing scenes and imagery, and a cultural critique buried just under the blood-soaked surface.

Powerful imagery is one the film's signatures.

On Scream Factory's excellent Collector's Edition Blu-ray of the film, one of the crew members notes how, in many respects, the film was motivated by white guilt. To paraphrase, here was this group of self-loathing white men making a movie where the white lead character—very much in the White Savior vein—is subjected to one atrocity after another, mostly at the hands of native Haitians. I love this interpretation of the film, and feel like I've always known it, but have never quite expressed it in so many words.

The likeness is uncanny.

The Mafu Cage (1979), directed by television veteran Karen Arthur, is a cult classic I've long heard whispers about, but it's hard to find, and thus alluded me for years. Until this week. The film most certainly did not disappoint, or suffer from several decades of anticipation on my part.

Awkward family photo.

The sisterly dysfunction on display is truly astounding. Jaw-dropping, even. Carol Kane gives one of the great, nuanced, unhinged performances—it's not easy to do nuanced and unhinged at the same time, but she does it with ease. Lee Grant as a classic enabler is also fantastic, because Lee Grant is always fantastic. This film one certainly won't appeal to a lot of people, but if you like utterly bizarre, totally unique cinema, then check it out.

If you can pry your eyes away from her absurdly low-cut top for a sec, you'll see she nails an absolutely epic eye roll.

The Internet has a way of reminding us of things we don't need to remember, but once we do, we kick ourselves for ever having forgotten. Case in point: That time Daisy Duke (Catherine Bach) wore a French maid's outfit. Don't ask me why she did this. Boss Hogg had to have something to do with it though, amirite? I'm sure I could've told you why, and in great detail, when I was seven or eight years old, but I got nothin' for ya now except proof that it really happened, thanks to some Daisy-lovin', GIF-happy soul out there in cyberspace.

I had a Dukes of Hazzard TV tray, lunchbox, and toys. Today, being reminded of Daisy's outfits, I'm amazed I was even allowed to watch this show.

Now that you've been reminded of all this, at least I'm not the only one who remembered that he forgot this seminal moment of network television. Thank you, Internet. Thank you, Daisy Duke.

A thick slice of '70s cheese, my friend.

Earlier today, I had this fun discussion with a friend and fellow writer and reviewer on Twitter about Moonraker (1979). Look, I'm not even a Bond guy—there are more Bond films I haven't seen than I have seen. I've got vivid memories, though, of loving Moonraker as a kid, which is funny because from what I've surmised over the years, a lot of Bond fans loathe this movie. Maybe it's actually appropriate, then, that I, a non-Bonder, would find something weirdly attractive about the whole "Bond in Space" concept. Surely, my nostalgically tinged memories of the film derive from this being one of the biggest slices of '70s cheese you're ever likely to run across.

Sure, her name's a sex joke, but she's an astronaut, CIA agent, and Vassar College graduate, too!

So now I'm sitting here, remembering the appallingly named but pretty darn cool Dr. Holly Goodhead (Lois Chiles), contemplating rewatching the film, figuring I could probably pay to stream it someplace or locate a copy at my local library. Of course, though, I've discovered a bunch of Blu-ray copies on eBay, ranging in price from $7-$10 (with free shipping!) and now I'm spending an inordinate, and frankly inappropriate amount of time, contemplating ordering a movie I know is bad but dammit '70s cheese is MY JAM. I'm hopeless.

Dr. Goodhead agrees.