Movies At Dog Farm Reaches 100 Posts, A Handful Of Which Might Be Worthwhile Reading For Others

 
"Happy is he who . . . writes from the love of imparting certain thoughts and not from the necessity of sale - who writes always to the unknown friend."

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)

 


     Maintaining Movies At Dog Farm often makes me feel like a precocious child being indulged by bewildered parents.  Many of my friends and acquaintances don't really seem to understand my compulsion to spend so much of my time curating my own little corner of the web.  Adrienne often catches me surreptitiously scribbling ideas on scraps of paper and teases that I'm writing diary entries.  My co-workers primarily monitor the Dog Farm by way of posts on Facebook and Twitter, where I undoubtedly rank well below the latest grumpy cat pic or dog shaming meme.  Every once in a while one of them will say, "Hey, I saw that thing about that thing that you posted."  Then there's my mother, who thinks I'm some kind of Internet rock star.  Of course that's only because she doesn't really understand anything about the exotic and unknowable land of Internet.   

     The Dog Farm does get visitors from around the world, but many of them land here by way of keyword searches like "farm dog porn."  I always feel bad about how disappointed those people must be when they click on the search result and find a movie blog.  Occasionally I receive a request from a stranger seeking promotion, and I usually end up feeling guilty about that, too.  The Dog Farm has far too little traffic to offer any significant exposure, and so I generally decline. 

     I have a crisis of faith on an almost weekly basis, what Douglas Adams called "a long dark teatime of the soul."  I ponder why I sweat bullets in front of the laptop doing something I'm neither obligated nor compensated to do.  I suffer bouts of paranoia.  I'm certain everyone is whispering about me, as though I'm a cracked but harmless lunatic who believes he's building a rocket to the moon in his basement.  

     I get panicky when I can think of nothing to write about, and I get irritated when I spend ninety minutes watching a movie about which I'm not sufficiently inspired to comment.  I obsess over the tiniest details of my page layout, even though no-one really pays any attention to those details.  I feel obliged to remind myself regularly that I do this primarily for my own gratification and not in the interest of garnering wealth and fame.  It's good, at least, that I have clarity on that point, because nothing that I've done here has made me a dime or landed me on a magazine cover.  

    I'm sure many will see the blocks of uninterrupted text here and immediately bounce, but that's okay.  If you've read this far, you're probably a blogger yourself.  You understand.  Perhaps some of what I've written even struck a chord with you.  If so, that's likely just an indication that you care about what you're doing.  Your willingness to share certain thoughts with the world is commendable and brave.

     If, however, you've read this far and aren't a blogger yourself, you're most likely the unknown friend for whom I've been writing.  I'm pleased to meet you, friend.  Let's discuss movies.  I've got ninety-nine talking points archived and ready.

The Convent (2000) - An Overlooked And Underappreciated Comedic Gore-gasm By Director Mike Mendez

A demon gets back in the habit in Mike Mendez's The Convent (2000).

       As a general rule, I like my gore served with a side of humor.  Photo-realistic depictions of violent atrocity just don't entertain me.  Luckily, the comedic gore movie is almost a sub-genre unto itself.  I originally committed to posting about Leatherface: Texas Chainsaw Massacre III (1990) for this year's Gore-A-Thon, owing largely to the fact that I covered The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986) last year.  Then I re-watched Leatherface, and I reminded myself that it's actually not very gory.  Worse, it's not very entertaining.  I proceeded to pore over my movie collection looking for a moist and meaty alternative.  Fortunately, I unearthed my copy of director Mike Mendez's The Convent (2000), a riotously entertaining throwback to the comedic gore greats of the eighties.  I'm pretty sure I heard a choir of angels singing as I pulled the disc from my movie vault.

The nuns at the St. Francis Boarding School want the students to pledge allegiance to their Dark Lord.

      Director Mike Mendez is a talent I wish was afforded the opportunity to be more prolific.  Though I've yet to lay my hands on Killers (1996, aka Real Killers), his recent Big Ass Spider! (2013) is exactly the kind of gleefully silly and entertaining B-movie the SyFy channel wishes it could deliver.  The Gravedancers (2006), one of the best-selling releases from the first After Dark Horrorfest, is also a solid spook show, albeit more serious minded.  Sadly, those two flicks and the Showtime documentary Masters Of Horror (2002) are the extent of Mendez's directorial filmography since The Convent.  Meanwhile, hacks like Uwe Boll seem to release a new movie every other week.

Monica (Megahn Perry) is bound and gagged in preparation for her sacrifice to Satan.

     The Convent is a textbook example of a familiar premise well executed.  Its story revolves around a group of college kids who break into an abandoned convent and unleash hell.  Only a reclusive older woman named Christine who quelled a similar incursion in the past (Adrienne Barbeau, absolutely bad-ass as always) can restore order.  What really sets The Convent apart, though, isn't the shopworn premise, but the frenetic visual stylings and wickedly funny performances.  Chief among these is the acerbically funny Megahn Perry as a goth chick named Monica.  When confronted with a self proclaimed Prince of Evil (an equally funny David Gunn) making a theatrically inept attempt to sacrifice her to Satan, Monica calls him out:  "Prince of Evil?  You work at fucking Dairy Queen."  Actual scripted humor is a refreshing change from the unintentional comedy and winking homage that litter so many like-minded B-movies.

A cheerleader with her face peeled off accompanied by a two former weekend Satanists. Go Team Demon!

     In fact, The Convent is defined more by its comedic elements than its horrific ones.  Aside from a stylish opening segment depicting the young Christine laying waste to nuns and clergy accompanied by the Leslie Gore song You Don't Own Me, the movie never really tries to be genuinely disturbing.  The Convent aims instead to be a cinematic love letter to the over-the-top gore fests with which director Mendez grew up.  Think Evil Dead 2, and you'll have a pretty good idea of what's in store.  Mendez even throws in a cameo by rapper Coolio and genre vet Bill Moseley as dickish local cops, lest viewers fail to recognize the tongue-in-cheek tone Mendez is cultivating.

Monica (Megahn Perry) gets demonized as the Prince of Evil and his minion watch from across the room.

     Rest assured, though - even if The Convent is never truly frightening, the gore runs deep.  There are plenty of stabbings, face peelings, shotgun blasts, genital mutilations, and decapitations to sate even the most ardent gorehound.  Though Mendez trimmed a few seconds of the most gratuitous splatter to secure an R rating for the stateside DVD, he's been quoted as saying The Convent is still a "hard R".  Genre fans won't be disappointed.  With any luck, Mendez's prequel to The Convent, currently listed on IMDB as being in pre-production under the title The Devil's Convent, will arrive sooner rather than later.  Until then, grab a copy of The Convent, gather a few friends, and enjoy one of the most overlooked and underappreciated comedic gore-gasms around.

Blood Sucking Geek Presents The Second Annual Ultimate Gore-A-Thon

      Jonny Dead at Blood Sucking Geek is kicking off the Ultimate Gore-A-Thon 2014, and the bloodbath begins on June 15th.  At The Mansion Of Madness, Blood Sucking Geek, Candy-Coated Razor Blades,  The Info Zombie, and Movies At Dog Farm are all coming back for the second time, and new participants  90s Horror Movies, Love Horror, Midnight Cinephile, Slasher Studios, Wide Weird World Of Cult Films, and Terrorphoria are bringing the new blood.  The Ultimate Gore-A-Thon 2014 runs through June 21st.

     Be sure to visit all of the participating sites, be generous with the "Likes" and "Shares", and leave lots of comments.  Horror bloggers love that.  Clicking on the Gore-A-Thon badge in the sideboard will take you directly to a regularly updated index of new posts from all of the sites.  Hats off to Blood Sucking Geek for taking the time and effort to organize the event.

We Interrupt These Posts For An Important Message From The Horror Blogger Alliance . . .

      Check it out!  The Horror Blogger Alliance is revamped and ready to rumble!  If you have your own horror blog, contact Jeremy at the HBA and join now!

Day Two Of Movies At Dog Farm III - Final Chapter Or A New Beginning?

The projector warms up for night two of Movies At Dog Farm III.  All images in this post by Herb Miller.

      So why, exactly, do I do what I do here?  To what end?  There's no shortage of movie blogs on the Internet curated by passionate and well-informed movie aficionados, so what purpose does the Dog Farm serve?  I had a moment of clarity while driving home in the wee hours of Sunday morning, prompted by an impromptu bullshit session that broke out as I was preparing to leave the Dog Farm following our viewing of The Sentinel (1977).  I should begin at the beginning, though, so let's rewind just a bit further . . .

The Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls menu on the screen at dusk. 

     For some inexplicable reason I always feel compelled to actually schedule showtimes for these events, and this one was no exception.  Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls (1970) was scheduled to begin at 8:30, just as daylight waned and the woods grew dark enough to fire up the projector.  We had watched our movies indoors on the preceding night, but I decided at the eleventh hour to move things outdoors for the second.  I was reminded of countless childhood trips to the drive-in, when the air would grow crisp at dusk and the projector would spring to life as the final light of the day gave way to nightfall.  Anticipation welled up inside me.  Then . . . the start of the show was delayed for roughly an hour as the guests milled around and chatted, waiting for Phil to finish preparing a vat of chili for everyone.  As is always the case, the schedule was blown before the first movie began.  Lesson learned.  I waited patiently while everyone drew their conversations to a close and settled in with their piping hot bowls of chili.  We were starting late, but everyone seemed ready now to direct their full attention to the screen.

Our makeshift outdoor theater before the start of the show . . .

     I harbored a lingering doubt about sharing Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls with an audience, and the initial twenty minutes or so made me sweat.  Everyone was too quiet.  I felt self conscious about laughing at bits of dialog that no-one else seemed to find amusing.  BVD is an odd bird, and I began to fear that perhaps I'd chosen the wrong movie for the crowd.  Then there were signs of life.  I began to hear politely subdued discussion around me.  I began to field whispered inquiries about what we were watching.  After a slow start, everyone finally seemed to be tuning in to the campy vibe of BVD just as the character of Z-Man Barzell exulted, "This is my happening, and it freaks me out!"  Apropos, really.  The audience became less discreet about commenting on what was unfolding before them, and by the time the movie careened into its frenzied final act BVD had managed to win over the audience completely.  My gamble had paid off.

. . . and again after the movies commenced. 

     After a brief intermission between films I started the evening's second feature, The Sentinel.  Though considerably less outrageous, high spirits engendered by BVD carried over.  The evening had grown chilly, but everyone bundled themselves up in sleeping bags and blankets and settled in.  The Sentinel played out like the champion B-list horror show it is, and the audience was engaged throughout.  The final credits rolled at around 1:30 in the morning, after which the lights came up and a line formed for the bathroom.  I took that as a victory.  The audience had been sufficiently involved with what they were watching to hang in there until the bitter end, bursting bladders be damned.

     As the crowd started to gather their things and disband, I began to disassemble the AV equipment and load my car for the ride home.  Phil Neff and Herb Miller lingered for longer than the others, and we began to talk excitedly about what had just transpired.  Herb had enjoyed The Sentinel, a movie about which he'd been previously unaware, more than he expected.  Phil shared with me some details of the crowd's enthusiasm for Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls earlier in the evening.  We started to reminisce about previous Movies At Dog Farm successes - Pieces (1982) and Suspiria (1977) in particular.  We began to spitball ideas for the next Movies At Dog Farm then and there, even hatching a plot to throw a "movies only" fundraising event later in the summer to finance acquisition of our own projector for future gatherings.  I was gratified.

     As I drove away, the theme for Suspiria played on my car's CD player, a perfect sound cue to end Movies At Dog Farm III.   I spent most of the hour long drive home chewing on ways to set up that fundraiser we had discussed, and I began to think of all the other cinematic obscurities I still wanted to share.  It occurred to me that my usual mode of movie consumption - home alone on the couch watching the movies unfold on a regular old television - is lacking.  There's simply no substitute for enjoying a movie on the big screen in the company of an appreciative audience.

     I don't really fancy myself a critic, and I tend only to write here about the movies I love.  I spend a little too much time watching these flicks, and I relish the opportunity to share the best of them with friends both old and new.  Nothing can convey the satisfaction of hearing a group of otherwise normal individuals enthusiastically sharing their best dramatic renditions of movie quotes like, "You will drink the black sperm of my vengeance!"  Presenting these odd little cinematic gems to an audience not predisposed to watch such things is why I do what I do here.  That's a simple motive, but I think it's a worthy one.  Thanks, everyone, for affording me the opportunity to do so.

Movies At Dog Farm III - Day One - Location Report For 5/23/14

     Well, folks, I was hoping to do some recording "in the field" for a podcast chronicling Movies At Dog Farm III, but logistics squashed that plan.  Maybe next time.  Instead, here are some notes and pics.

12:30 p.m. - I picked up an Epson video projector, a Yamaha sound projector, and a PSB subwoofer, all on loan for the weekend from my accommodating employer. I arrive at the Dog Farm about forty-five minutes later after a pleasant drive through some lovely Virginia countryside.  I'm nervous as always, though at least I'm not battling a raging infection this time.  I was very, very sick for the last Movies At Dog Farm.  I couldn't find any Shock Top Raspberry Wheat for the weekend, though, so I have to make a substitution.  I drink once a year, and my beer of choice has vanished from the face of the planet.  I thought I had one left in my fridge at home, but my mother beat me to it.

1:30 p.m. - Upon arriving at the Dog Farm, I'm greeted by Phil Neff - our host for the weekend - and my buddy Herb Miller, who arrived the preceding evening.  They're about to clear out the carport storage building, which has served as a what I'll politely describe as an archive of ephemera since the last Movies At Dog Farm event two Octobers ago.  Herb and I decide that Phil has only concocted this event  as a means to dispose of some unwanted clutter.  I'm not complaining, though.  In addition to some peculiar old signage, I came away from the excavation with a couple of Super 8mm film reels - Bride Of Frankenstein (1935) in a proper film tin and When Dinosaurs Ruled The Earth (1970) in an illustrated cardboard box.  Now I have to acquire a Super 8mm film projector, but I'm pretty stoked about experiencing these old flicks in about the only way movie aficionados could in their homes prior to the advent of VHS.

When Dinosaurs Ruled The Earth Super 8 film reel box.

     I initially want to move the projection screen and equipment outside, but I note that several of the guests who've arrived over the course of the afternoon are already donning sweatshirts and jackets even before the sun goes down.  It's a beautiful day, but it's breezy and cooler out in the woods than in town.  We opt to keep the screen indoors rather than have everyone too uncomfortable to enjoy the movies.  I do, however, continue to harbor the notion that we'll move things outdoors tomorrow for Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls (1970) and The Sentinel (1977).

8:30 p.m. - SHOWTIME!  Sadly, Herb and I are driving around greater metropolitan Timberville looking for the pizzas we were sent to pick up for the guests back at the Dog Farm.  The collective brain trust failed to ask where the order was placed.  Who woulda guessed such a tiny little speck on the map would have four pizza places?

9:15 p.m. - Herb and I make it back with the pizzas, and the movies commence less than an hour behind schedule.  Starship Troopers (1997) is first up, and the UK Blu-Ray I ordered looks and sounds fantastic.  It seems to be well received.  Most of the guests hang in there throughout the run of the movie, though we lose a couple to travel fatigue.

11:30 p.m. - Movie #2 begins - Saturn 3 (1980).  This is also a brand spanking new Blu-Ray copy, which looks and sounds far better than the previous no frills DVD release.  Those of us who didn't crash prior to the start of the second movie make it all the way through.  There will not, however, be an "After Midnight" selection this evening.  Tomorrow is another day.

     So over all, things go swimmingly on the first day of Movies At Dog Farm III.  Day two promises to be even better.

I'm Packing Up My 100% Guilt-Free Movies And Heading To The Dog Farm!

  I'm pretty excited, folks, and I'm looking forward to seeing everyone at the Dog Farm this weekend!  In particular, I can't wait to see how Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls plays to an audience.  Thanks for having us, Phil!