Da Doo Meow Meow

Okay yes, I know that technically today should be Chilling Classics Cthursday but Your Honor, circumstances compelled me to move in a different direction. Those circumstances, you see, began with a text message from a pal asking if I'd seen a little 1991 made for TV horror movie called Strays. I had not--in fact, I wasn't even aware of its existence, lawd have mercy--but I was immediately sold on it and wantonly cast aside the movie I was about to watch, which was indeed a Chilling Classic. 

The fact that I was not all that enthusiastic about said Chilling Classic mattered little, such was the powers of the premise, poster, and (p)credits of Strays:

The premise: Feral cats want to fuck shit up! And hello, as I mentioned, it's made for TV. 

Then, there is the cast: Kathleen Quinlan (she's always terrif!), Timothy Busfield (my mom loved him on Trapper John, MD!), and Claudia Christian (she voices a shitton of characters in Skyrim!)

Then, there is the fact that it was written by 70s teen heartthrob pop star/Hardy Boy Shaun Cassidy. I know he's created and/or produced more television series than you could shake a feathered hairdo at, but still!

And finally the poster, which I guess is supposed to be terrifying but if a cat coming at me like that was the last thing I ever saw, I would die so happy.

To that tagline, I say: I sure hope so!

So you see, Your Honor, how could a Chilling Classic stand a chance against this sure-to-be titan of television cinema? I rest my case.

If I were the family in a made for TV horror film, I would definitely not move from the city to country in order to "get away from it all." This is the impetus in many of these movies and it never works out well for the family. After reiterating their hopes (and one spouse's doubts), they spend a day moving and settling in. Then it's a couple of weeks later, and stuff starts happening. Before you know it, the newly-transplanted family runs afoul of witches/Satanists/fertility cults/ghosts/robots/possessed floor lamps/bad children/whatever flavor of evil happens to permeate the bucolic locale. Then, a random handyperson/worker shows up and gets killed by the evil; This is either chalked up to an accident or the death isn't discovered until much later. Later, a tertiary character will be killed by the evil; This is a member of the extended family or a dear friend. Stuff comes to a head, the family makes it out alive. But they must abandon the property, and would likely be financially ruined for years to come. Yay!

It is practically a blueprint for these pictures and I love it. So I was not at all mad when Kathleen Quinlan, Timothy Busfield, and their little kid went chugging down a dirt road in their station wagon. Wife: Excited for the move, ready to get away from that big city living! Husband: Dubious!

Side note, the child was one of those rare child actors who was clearly not actually a child actor. I don't mean this in an Esther kind of way, but rather the kid was barely understandable and just kind of blurbed out her "lines." So it would be like:

Child: Brbbashmleh

Kathleen Quinlan: That's right, honey! It's a blue car.

The house looks so nice and the realtor, Kathleen Quinlan's sister Claudia Christian (I didn't learn any names okay!!) gives them a good deal because the previous owner died. Timothy Busfield is acting as her divorce attorney, so clearly this family likes to keep it (business) in the family.

What none of them seem to know, however, is that the previous owner died 1) by cat attack and 2) wearing a terrible wig. WE SHOULD ALL BE SO LUCKY.

So these things go as these things go. The people we expect to die, die. The people we know will live, live. As always, though, no matter how predictable it may be, it's about the journey--and Strays is a predictable journey! Filled with angry cats.

There is a lot of (absolutely delightful) nonsense involving water and trying to stop the cats with pillows. I don't want to spoil all this absolutely delightful nonsense because it's dumb fun to watch and if you want to watch it for yourself, it's all on the YouTube.

I would have been happy if this movie was ten hours long. It's literally just pissed off feral cats yelling and running and jumping and scratching, aka it was HEAVEN. Strays featured a lot of cat POV shots and also one of my favorite film conceits, which is actors flailing around holding a stuffed animal that's "attacking" them.

Side note, the leader of the cats really did look mean! And I will bet my life savings (almost $7) that the role was played by one (or more) of the cats who played Church in the original Pet Sematary, which released a couple of years earlier.

I wouldn't go near that cat but oh, how I'd want to.

What's that, Your Honor? I'm acquitted and being given the key to the city because of my decision to watch Strays instead of whatever it was that bubbled up from Mill Creek? I knew it! Brbbashmleh.

That's right, honey! If there's one thing we can always believe in, it's the fairness of the US justice system.

Les Peaks, c'est chic

YES I know that title should really be Les Peaks, ce sont chics, but that extra syllable throws the rhythm off okay! And as a member of Rhythm Nation in good standing (last time I checked, anyway), it must be prioritized.

ANYWAY, if you are a listener of The Detective and the Log Lady, the weekly Twin Peaks podcast I co-host, then you know that we have recently finished Season 2 of the TV show. Wowzee wow! Time sure does fly. 

If you're a-wonderin' what we'll be covering from here on out and when, here's a li'l schedule for you. I'm super pumped!!

PLEASE NOTE that when we cover The Missing Pieces on February 10th, we will also be covering The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer. 

That's right, The Secret Diary and The Secret History. We are reading for this podcast.

And if you are a Peaks noob like me, FYI The Missing Pieces is a feature-length assemblage of deleted scenes from Fire Walk With Me. It's available in the US (at least) on the Criterion Channel and as an extra on the Criterion FWWM disc. Maybe it's also available in other places! Following the Evolution of Horror socials might give you a tip, as folks like to help each other out with that kind of info.

As always, you can find the podcast on the EoH website or on whichever podcast platform tickles your cherry pie.

I LOVE TWIN PEAKS!

Chilling Classics Cthursday: THE DEMON (1981)

Whether it's because yes, I'm still in the grip of this grippe or whether it's because it is simply his nature, RNGesus did me a kindness this week by selecting The Demon, a South African slasher curio that stars 50-pack King Cameron Mitchell as a psychic ex-Marine. It is the pleasures of life such as this that will see me through this time of plague.

Dig a little and you'll see that The Demon has a plethora of dates attached to it: 1979, 1981, 1982, 1985...for simplicity's sake I'd call The Demon a relic from The Age of Macramé, but a few in situ pop culture cameos put its filming squarely in 1979: namely a marquee showing The Amityville Horror and disco dancers getting TF down to the Lipps Inc tune "Funkytown" (which, incidentally, still slaps). The rest is a matter of release dates and the such, and I leave those kinds of decisions up to the courts, thank you very much.

By the way, those disco dancers are getting TF down at a place called Boobs Disco and I don't know...things weren't perfect but surely society was a little better when your average white folk got TF down regularly, sublimating their troubles by stepping all over a light-up floor instead of all over the lives of everyone else? 

Anyway. A heavy-breathing, hulking maniac breaks into a suburban home, ties up the mother and puts a plastic bag over her head, then absconds with the teenage daughter. The mother survives, but when police have no leads on the daughter after two months, the parents do the only thing they can: they call for the services of retired Marine Colonel Bill Carson, psychic. 

Move over, Sylvia Browne

Carson humbly explains his ESP powers ("Sometimes I get feelings--vibes, as the kids would call them") and gets to work touching objects in the daughter's bedroom. He sketches a few of his related visions and the dad somehow decides they are a good enough lead to go searching for the maniac, whom Carson super helpfully describes as "less than a man, and more than a man."

Most movies would follow this main plotline that features their main star, but not The Demon! Writer/director Percival Rubens dedicates the bulk of the film to a B-plot concerning a teacher I christened 1979 Amy Poehler (Jennifer Holmes) and her cousin as they navigate their love lives while sort-of being stalked by our resident Less-n-More Than a Man. 

Yes indeed, The Demon likes to show off both its Black Christmas influences and its Halloween influences. I'm not really complaining.

Nor am I really complaining about that bulk of the film that many a viewer would likely call "boring." I'm not saying I'm not calling it that, necessarily, but I didn't hate it. In fact, I was rather curious to see how the two plotlines would converge.

Spoiler: they do not! The only thing linking them together is our resident Less-n-More Than a Man, who seems to choose his victims at random. Of course, the majority of his victims are women and his motivations seem to come down to "woman-hating." 

While this and the random excuses for nudity put The Demon squarely into the realm of typical slasher stuff, the film does manage to hide a few surprises up its billowy sleeves. Rubens wisely employs a restrained hand when it comes to showing our Less-n-More Than a Man, but unfortunately this is your standard Mill Creek Entertainment 50 Movie Pack Chilling Classics 12-DVD Collection transfer; The glimpses we do get of the killer are often too dark to really enjoy. It's a shame because he sports some bitchin' gloves that are like Giallo Freddy Krueger specials and I wanted to see 'em in action.

I don't think The Demon rises even to the level of Great Value Slasher, but its surprises and left turns and last ten minutes push it to the level of Hey Maybe Slasher Aficionados Should Check It Out. That's something, right? I mean, a psychic Cameron Mitchell! Boobs Disco! Not even the mighty Halloween can boast that stuff.

Chilling Classics Cthursday: COVID (2025)

I thought I might be able to take a dip in the Mill Creek this week but it is not happening, I am sorry to say. I felt a bit better yesterday but I feel a bit worse today, and I know it's only been a couple of days but time has been very amorphous and I now fear I will be trapped in this forever. 

Time has been very amorphous because, you know, quarantine fugue. But it also owes to the fact that I am not engaging in usual home activities: movies, books, games. Besides reading two chapters of a book, literally the only thing I have done is watch Vanderpump Rules.

If you don't know, it's a Real Housewives spinoff that follows the lives of the young folk who work at the West Hollywood restaurant SUR, co-owned by Lisa Vanderpump, formerly of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. It's been airing since 2013. 

I never indulged (though Housewives friends have long told me to) because what care I for the exploits of the young? Besides, knowing there are 11 seasons of it to catch up on is awfully intimidating. Well, something in my brain decided that the time was finally right, and while I am certainly not going to say I'm grateful for catching Covid, I will say that I am grateful to myself for using Covid as an excuse to indulge. It is magnificent.

So when I am not wandering aimlessly around my apartment or ordering more supplies, I am watching VPR. Time has not only been amorphous, it truly no longer has meaning. 

Here is a selfie of me between episodes, calling the grocery store to demand they SEND MORE ONIONS.

"Stacie," you are surely thinking, "We barely tolerate your Real Housewives asides, references, and blather. This tolerance will absolutely not extend to Vanderpump Rules, so please don't start."

Don't worry, I won't! I only mention this at all because check this out, it's relevant, I swear.

So in season 2, Tom Sandoval's band has a ~~big moment~~ opening for Martha Davis and The Motels at Lake Arrowhead, a mountain resort east of Los Angeles. What I was not expecting was this:

1) Yes, their band is called "Pierce the Arrow." No, I don't know what that means.

2) Yes, I took a vertical video of my TV in the moment! Leave me alone, I have Covid.

3) REGGIE BANNISTER??? On my Vanderpump Rules??? Introducing acts at Lake Arrowhead????? 

Well knock me over with a ponytail! 

It's the most random cameo of all time, surely. 

I love Phantasm so much. Like I don't know if I'd put in in my top 20 ever--maybe my top 50? But I do have such feelings for it, mostly because it scared the heccccckkkkk out of me as a youth, so badly that were I to watch it now, I'd probably still be a bit unsettled at least. I don't know how someone watching it for the first time today would feel about it, but for me it'll always be a bit of a nightmare.

Okay that's the update from Plague Central. This has wiped me out, back to the couch...and VPR. Fingers crossed an uncredited Lance Henriksen shows up in the background at SUR as the youths tear into one another over today's betrayal.

Just what the doctor ordered

There has been something "going around" my li'l city and reader, I have caught it! It is some version of A Cold, but I have not been sick in years (nail polish emoji) and this Cold on Steroids is whipping my ass something good. I am vaccinated (and masked) to the high heavens (or the high hells, depending on which news channels you watch) and I know this does not make me impervious like John Travolta as the boy in the plastic bubble in The Boy in the Plastic Bubble, but it does add insult to this injury. The same goes for my "treatment plan," which includes mainlining my late gramma's patented home remedy: onion sandwiches. (Great at driving away germs and paramours alike!) They ain't done shit except inflate my onion budget more than is reasonable!

(Edited to add: I tested negative on Friday but after noticing an actual fever I tried again a bit ago for funsies and sure enough, at long last I have finally been caught in Miss Covid's evil web. Fuck this shit! I'm so annoyed. Perhaps this--and only this, surely!--is the reason those onion sandwiches are failing in their duty.)

Last night, I sat upon my couch all wrapped up and a-wondering what to do with my time. I've been too tired to stay awake, too messed up to sleep; freezing cold and burning up simultaneously; trying to think with a head full of cotton wool and prone to bouts of vertigo. And then, in this time of trouble, Mother Tubi came to me, speaking words of wisdom:

Howzabout an early-aughties made-for-cable horror film that reunites LA Law alums Harry Hamlin and Susan Dey?

So I said sign me the eff UP and gave Disappearance (2002) a whirl and you know what? Mother Tubi never misses. 

I fully cop to the fact that all the onion fumes floating around my apartment may have influenced my already illness-addled brain, but I was so into this movie. Then again, it was written and directed by Walter Klenhard, who also wrote an directed another of my favorite made-for-TV thrillers (Baby Monitor: Sound of Fear starring Josie Bissett of television's Melrose Place) so chances are it literally is just that good.

Pater Harry Hamlin and step-mater Susan Dey are hauling the kids through the Nevada desert for a little family bonding time. They make a stop at a time-honored horror movie location: the dusty gas station with a vaguely menacing attendant, then have some lunch at another time-honored horror movie location: the dusty diner full of flies and sun-burnt weirdos. They are in search of a town called Weaver, a long-abandoned mining village that is no longer shown on maps. In an unexpected twist, the sun-burnt weirdos deny they've ever heard of this "Weaver," never mind that it used to exist.

But this doesn't stop our family, who fires up their brand-new Ford Excursion™ (this shit must have been sponsored by Ford, I swear, it feels like a commercial for the Excursion™ at times) and head down a long, dusty road deep into the desert--despite being warned to "stick to the roads, lads pavement." 

Why stick to the pavement when the Ford Excursion™ can handle any tough terrain

Sure enough, they eventually find Weaver, which indeed seems to be a tiny ghost town. They explore a bit, taking photos of musty, dusty buildings while noting that it's like all the people who live there...wait for it...disappeared. You know, food left on the tables, calendars from the 1940s, etc. They also find some footage that gives us a wee found footage moment of previous visitors to Weaver being pursued by someone...or something, dun dun dunnn.

Spooked, they go to leave but their Ford Excursion™ won't start. They stay the night in one of the buildings and I will admit: It was my turn to be spooked. In the middle of the night, Harry Hamlin grabs a flashlight and heads upstairs to investigate a noise down a dark hallway and it was a surprisingly effective sequence. I've said it time and time again, noises in the dark are all I really need for a horror movie to scare me and dagummit this worked. 

The next morning, the Ford Excursion™ is missing altogether. Was it stolen by a someone...or something? The group splits up, and Harry Hamlin and A Boy take off across the desert, hoping to find help back at the dusty diner. Things get a little weird from here with more and more added to the mystery. Susan Dey falls down into a mineshaft and is pursued by someone...or something: We get a lot of heavy breathing and POV shots, but we never see what exactly it is. A Boy disappears after cresting a sand dune. There's a rundown cemetery that looks like the one outside Goodsprings in Fallout: New Vegas but there are fresh graves. The dusty town clearly has a secret, so I just kept falling deeper and deeper under Disappearance's spell.

Ultimately there are a bunch of theories as to what is what. 

Is the mutated offspring of neutron bomb testing site victims living under Weaver like some kind of southwestern CHUDs? (Side note, in the pits of this grippe I can totally hear a commercial now, boasting that we should "Come try our brand-new southwestern CHUD sauce, only during 2-for-1 Fiesta Days at Applebee's!") 

Is it the ol' "haunted ancient Indian burial ground" gag? (That is literally what they call it, so don't @ me!)

Is it aliens?

In the end, I don't think it makes a lick of sense. But 1) Maybe my soft-n-silky smooth sickness brain simply couldn't parse what was going on, and 2) Whether it made any sense or not, I do not care.

Because I had a great time! The tropes at work, as well as a passing nod to The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, mean it hits many a-beat you've heard before but you know what? That's okay In fact, that's more than okay when you are feeling like CHUD crud. Tropes? Susan Dey? Harry Hamlin? A Town with a Secret? That is pure comfort, a better balm than even onion sandwiches sorry, gramma) or the freedom and safety you feel while driving a Ford Excursion™. As always, Mother Tubi knows best.

Hot for Horror's Hot Babes

At the risk of sounding like Garfield: Mondays, amirite? Who needs 'em. Where's my lasagna lmao. Well, to brighten up this grey and gloomy Monday, I thought for a bit about all things Amityville. Now to be fair, I think about all things Amityville no matter the day, no matter the weather! But today I got to thinking about James Brolin and Margot Kidder in the 1979 film and what a hot babe couple they made. Then I thought...hmm, what about some other hot babe couples in horror movies? And that is how this list you are about to see came to be here, a list called Hot Babe Couples in Horror Movies.

Are they ranked? No! They are all tied for #1. Is this definitive? Who cares! They are the couples I immediately thought of. You are welcome to cite any other hot babe couples in horror movies. Viva les lists! 

HOT BABE COUPLES IN HORROR MOVIES

GEORGE AND KATHY LUTZ IN THE AMITYVILLE HORROR (1979)

If someone makes a movie about my fake paranormal experiences, I can only hope that I will be portrayed by someone as hot as Margot Kidder or James Brolin at the height of their hot powers.

ALISON PARKER AND MICHAEL LERMAN IN THE SENTINEL (1977)

Chris Sarandon and Cristina Raines really put the hot in this hot mess of a movie!

MARGARET WALSH AND PETE DANNER IN THE LEGACY (1978)

I love The Legacy perhaps more than it deserves. But even if I didn't, I'd watch it anyway just for the sweatered-up romance between real life couple Sam Elliott and Katharine Ross.

PICKETT SMITH AND KAREN CROCKETT IN FROGS (1972)

They only knew each other for like fifteen minutes before the frogs took over the Crockett compound, but no matter. Sam Elliott without his moustache? Also no matter. Look at those babes!

SUSIE BANNION AND SARA SIMMS IN SUSPIRIA (2018)

I keep hoping their story will play out differently, but no matter how many times I watch this movie it never does. Huh, weird.

RHONDA JOHNSON AND HER OVERSIZED NOVELTY SAFETY PIN IN KILLER WORKOUT (1987)

The couple that slays together, etc etc. I know I said this list wasn't a ranking, but let's be real. None of the other couples can compete. The tanning bed wasn't the only time Rhonda was sizzling!

JESS AND PETER IN BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974)

So toxic! So violent! So...babes!

BOB AND LYNDA IN HALLOWEEN (1978)

Every slasher movie with a Final Girl needs at least one Not Final Girl, and boy oh boy is Lynda a Not Final Girl. She hates school but loves Doing It, two qualities that rarely let a woman survive until the end credits roll. I love her. And I love Bob, who shows up in the film solely to screw and get killed.

RED AND DUANE IN PSYCHO III (1986)

What are they doing! Absolutely bonkers and so sleazy I caught crabs just looking at those screencaps.

KURT BARLOW AND RICHARD STRAKER IN SALEM'S LOT (1979)

You heard me! If Mr. Barlow didn't have that whole "vampire" issue, these two would be running an antiques shop together and dishing with Paul Lynde out in Palm Springs. For real though, Salem's Lot is...really something when it comes to gay shit. Whilst reading, I downed a shot of Franzia every time a character uttered a slur or said something hateful in the novel and I've been dead for decades.

Okay, I just thought of, like, four more couples that I didn't include. Sigh. Mondays, amirite?

SHOCKtober: 10-1

*drumrolldrumrolldrumroll* It's time! It's finally time! So pull up your pants (or pull them down, if you prefer) and brace yourself for your SHOCKtober 2024 Top 10 favorite horror films! Yes, ackshully tecknikly there are four movies tied for third so their order is just made up, but that's how we do it here in Stately Final Girl Manor. The number of votes each film received is in bold.

10. THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT (1999, Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez) -- 40

9. BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974, Bob Clark) -- 40

8. THE DESCENT (2005, Neil Marshall) -- 42

7. THE WITCH (2015, Robert Eggers) -- 45

6. SUSPIRIA (2018, Luca Guadagnino) -- 49

5. SCREAM (1996, Wes Craven) -- 49

4. HALLOWEEN (1978, John Carpenter) -- 49

3. ALIEN (1979, Ridley Scott) -- 49

2. THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE (1974, Tobe Hooper) -- 52

1. THE THING (1982, John Carpenter) -- 62

SHE DID IT! SHE FINALLY DID IT! After spending three SHOCKtobers in the #2 spot, The Thing has scuttled far and away with the title this time around. Please, a round of awed, reverent applause for Miss SHOCKtobra 2024!

I'm so happy for her, she is truly the Susan Lucci of horror movies. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre made a huge leap, perhaps fueled by its 50th anniversary this year? Suspiria (2018) coming in at ackshully tecknikly 3rd is not as far a fall as I was anticipating...I guess you guys really like it?? Hmm, we shall see how all of these hold up in the future. Very exciting! I love SHOCKtober! I can't believe it's already SHOCKtover. I'll be back soon with a li'l wrap-up thingy and a link to the downloadable mega-list whenever I figure out how to do that. For now though, I'm gonna untie myself from this fucking couch!