Category Archives: humor

Be Kind to Animals, Hollywood

Posted on February 18, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

What is it with animals coming to bad ends in movies?

I recently wrote about What’s the Matter with Helen?, in which some very beautiful white rabbits suffered at the hands of a lunatic. I watched a movie yesterday in which a perfectly nice looking dog had an even shorter and more thankless role. And now I am looking at a movie where every third or fourth scene, I hear myself saying, “Nothing bad better happen to that cat!”

So far the worst thing that happened to the cat is a lady took away the yarn he or she was playing with. I only wrote my remark about nothing bad happening in the TV Journal once, but as I continued to repeat it, I thought to myself, hey, this could be a blog topic.

Many of us get more upset when bad things happen to animals than we get when bad things happen to people, especially in the movies. After all, animals are more defenseless and often more harmless. Most of them are a good deal less annoying than some people, especially in a work of fiction.

You know, now that I’m writing this, I believe I have touched on the topic before. My defense for repeating myself is: I think it was previously a remark in passing and now it is the topic of the post. Also, it is a topic that bears repeating. Who doesn’t love cats, dogs and beautiful white rabbits (or at least one of the three)?

Hollywood, apparently.

Sometimes it is movie shorthand for a really, really bad person. Ooh, look at them, they were mean to a dog! They can’t be any good AT ALL! Just in case the viewer was looking for socially redeeming characteristics. Now we know there are none to be found.

I still don’t like it. I just don’t LIKE to see bad things happen to good animals. I don’t particularly like it when characters I like die either, but at least I can comfort myself with the thought that actors like to play death scenes. I don’t know that any animals feel the same way.

I don’t think any Hollywood screenwriters are likely to heed my words and start writing movies where all the animals live happily ever after (humans can take their chances). But I wanted to express myself. Now I’ll go back to the movie I was viewing and check out what happens to that cat.

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About That Play…

Posted on February 16, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

When we last left our hero (um, that’s me) (I went masculine as gender neutral, because I did not want to refer to myself as an illegal substance), she was about to stop writing her blog post and instead work on finishing a play she had started. OK, enough with the third person crap.

What I’m saying is, I did not write my post on breaks at work today, as I usually do. I trusted to last minute inspiration and my ability in the past to write something on the fly. Or is it off the cuff? I get my clothing metaphors confused.

It is, of course, Lame Post Friday, my day of random observations and half-baked philosophy. I seem to recall mentioning yesterday that we should save the half-baked philosophy about finished works for Lame Post Friday. And here we are.

I find it sad but true when I read a novel or a play or even a magazine article that is not very good: my first thought is, I could do so much better. My second thought is, well, why didn’t you? One reason the worst novel in the world can get published over my deathless prose (I don’t really think it’s deathless; I just like that expression) is that that novel GOT FINISHED.

And here is some more half-baked philosophy: one can take the above thought two ways. It could be an inspiration to write more and concentrate on finishing. Or it can be a discouraging criticism: if you haven’t finished a damn play yet, you never will, give it up now!

Well, which way did you think I was going to take it? You know I like to keep my blog positive! So I spent my time before I had to start working and my break writing my play. Unfortunately, I dare not tell you anything about it, because it is a work in progress. It’s not that I fear my gentle readers will steal my ideas, but I do fear “helpful” criticism (and I am certain MY readers would never offer any other kind). More to the point, I fear that having talked about the play, I will no longer feel the need to write it. I told the story, it’s done. It can happen.

In fact, I think I’d better shut up now.

Happy Friday, everyone.

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Whatever Happened to Playwright Steve?

Posted on February 15, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Writing about What’s the Matter with Helen? and mentioning Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? and the re-titled Whatever Happened to Cousin Charlotte? (remember, it became Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte) made me think about my husband Steven’s foray into thriller writing.

This happened when Steven was in junior high, well before he knew me and even well before I developed a taste (not to say obsession) for cheesy horror movies. And a quick disclaimer, I am laughing WITH my husband, not AT him. Indeed, I hope I poke good-natured fun at most of the movies I write about (except when I am taking them to task for spurious views on romance, like The Virgin Queen).

But I digress (well, why not digress on Non-Sequitur Thursday?). Getting on with the post, let us consider my husband’s play, What Happened to Millicent?

Steven had perhaps heard of Baby Jane and Sweet Charlotte, but had not seen them, and I don’t think Helen had even been made yet. Therefore no accusations of plagiarism can be leveled against him (unlike some of the plot points for some of the stories I wrote as a child and adolescent, but we’re not talking about me).

I think it’s pretty obvious that Steven had seen more television and movies than plays, because most of the scenes are about two minutes long and the set changes are quite elaborate. I don’t recall the whole plot, but Millicent disappears on the way to a dance. I think you hear a scream from behind a big rock.

In a later scene, Millicent’s sister Beverly is accused of doing away with Millicent. She immediately commits suicide, distraught at the accusation. We, the audience, know that Beverly is innocent, because we see her go behind the rock AFTER we hear the scream. Beverly sees her dead sister, screams, runs home and tells nobody. And apparently nobody else ever finds the body.

In the end (which I don’t scruple to tell you, since I doubt you will ever have an opportunity to read or see the play), we never find out what happens to Millicent. I believe it ends with a voice-over of the dead sister saying, “And whatever did happen to Millicent? No one will ever know.”

The play got a staged reading by some of Steven’s friends at a high school graduation party. They read it typos and all (the script had been hunt-and-pecked on a manual Smith Corona, just to inject a little history). The most notable of these was when one character threatened another with “Or eles!”

I must admit, Steven’s script had one quality that most of my efforts at novel and play writing have lacked: it was finished. That thought makes me want to leave this post unfinished and rush to finish the last play I was working on. Ironic, you say? I say, let’s save the half-baked philosophy for Lame Post Friday.

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Sorry About the Bunnies

Posted on February 13, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I DVR’d What’s the Matter with Helen? (1971) from TCM because it starred Shelley Winters and Debbie Reynolds, and the description included the word “murder.” I thought no further of it till last Sunday. Steven and I had watched a distinctly non-cheesy movie (which I may yet write about), and Steven suggested that Helen might contain some amount of cheese.

In pre-show commentary, Ben Mankiewicz tells us the movie was one of a few horror movies featuring middle-aged female protagonists which followed the success of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? Jane was based on a novel by Henry Farrell. Farrell wrote the screenplay to Helen as well as the one to Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte (which, incidentally, was originally titled Whatever Happened to Cousin Charlotte? I sense a pattern here).

Shelley Winters plays Helen, the one with some something wrong with her. Debbie Reynolds plays Adele, the proprietress of a young ladies’ dance academy. It is a testament to the ladies’ acting ability that as I watched the movie and as I write about it, I see the characters as Helen and Adele, not Shelley and Debbie, nor yet Crazy One and Tap Dance Lady (as you know two less talented, unknown actresses would have ended up). For the purposes of this post, though, I will refer to them as Shelley and Debbie, to aid my readers’ mental imagery.

Shelley and Debbie play two women who are drawn together because their sons have committed a murder. The movie, which takes place in the 1930s, opens with a Hearst newsreel showing the two of them fighting a crowd to get to a taxi after sentencing. Life in prison, not the death penalty, which has caused some outrage. Shelley gets cut by someone in the crowd and receives a death threat over the phone from “somebody with athsma” (Debbie’s description).

I have to hand it to a movie that gets right into things and doesn’t waste a lot of time on boring flashbacks. Still, I could have used a little more backstory. Then too, after the promising start the movie bogs down a little. Debbie decides they will change their names and move to Hollywood, where hopeful mothers will pay good money to Adele in hopes she will turn their little darlings into the next Shirley Temple. Helen, it transpires, is the accompanist.

The most ominous foreshadowing to me was the collection of big white rabbits Shelley keeps in the back yard. She picks one up, caresses her, calls her beautiful, and I said, “Oh NOOO!” I spent the next hour or so saying, “Nothing bad better happen to those bunnies!” but not really holding out much hope that the poor things would make it to “The End” with skins intact.

The movie does create suspense, offering us several characters who may or may not be up to no good. Has the Texas millionaire who romances Debbie honorable or evil intentions? Why is the mysterious Englishman who enters without knocking so intent on teaching diction in this rinky dink school? And how about that stranger across the street, smoking a cigarette and watching Texas and Debbie “smooch” (Shelley’s word)? What is he up to? For that matter, are Shelley and Debbie what they seem, two innocent women caught up in bad circumstances?

I must sadly report that the ending did not justify all the suspense. Oh, I suppose it is shocking and creepy. To tell you more might ruin it for you and I am loathe to do that, because it is a pretty fun watch. I realize I did not include my usual Spoiler Alert, and I think I’ve done a pretty good job of not spoiling anything. Except perhaps for the bunnies, and I consider that more in the nature of a warning, if such a thing is needed. I think anyone who’s watched a horror movie knows: don’t get too attached to small, cute animals.

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Menu Monday

Posted on February 12, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I missed What’s for Supper Sunday, so how about Menu Monday (I leave off the question mark, because I’m not really asking; I fully intend to write a cooking post).

Regular readers (I do love my regular readers) may recall that I invented a recipe for Chicken Florentine. Then recently I saw a commercial for one of those pre-made entrees you heat up in a skillet on the stove — it may have been Bertoli — of Chicken Florentine. It did not look anything like what I had done. It actually looked way easier. I said, Hmmmm….

No, I did not run to the freezer section of my local Hannaford looking for Bertoli. I opened my refrigerator at home and looked for ingredients.

For once I cooked with wine by actually putting wine in the food. I chopped up an onion and put it in my cast iron frying pan with a good dousing of some Chablis I happened to have on hand.

Just a side note: I had purchased the Chablis because Steven and I had recently watched Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. That movie, in case you didn’t know, features a fascinating character named The Lady Chablis. But I digress.

While the onion boiled in the wine (I put in a lot of wine), I crushed up some garlic and set the timer for 15 minutes, the length of time I’ve read it should breathe. At the end of 15 minutes I added it to the frying pan and let it cook a few minutes before adding the chicken and spinach.

I took both of those items out of my freezer. The chicken was fully cooked breast strips by, I believe, Tyson. The spinach was Hannaford brand frozen chopped.

The wine had pretty much cooked away by this time so I added a little olive oil and covered the pan. After a bit I sprinkled on some lemon pepper and Perfect Pinch Salt Free Savory stuff.

I had intended to put the mixture over pasta, but there wasn’t any sauce per se. The chicken had not dried out or anything, there was just no extra liquid such as one likes to put over pasta. I did not feel like messing with it and perhaps letting the chicken dry out (breast meat can be so touchy), so we skipped the pasta.

Instead, I made garlic toast with some French bread I happened to have on hand. Butter, garlic power, basil, oregano in a 350 degree oven. Oh, don’t shake your gourmet fingers at me over the garlic powder. My garlic press was soaking in the sink and I didn’t have 15 extra minutes to let the garlic breathe anyways.

But as long as you are shaking your fingers at me, though, I’ll confess that I used Country Crock instead of real butter. As usual, I had not planned ahead and I felt like using something I could spread easily.

It was not a bad supper. I believe, however, that I will want to tweak the recipe if I desire to make such a dish in the future. It will probably rate a blog post if I do. As always, I hope you’ll stay tuned.

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Lame Verbiage

Posted on February 9, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Today’s Friday Lame Post is heavy on the half-baked philosophy.

I began to write a far different post. I started running Thursday and intended to write a post about that. My lead was dull. I said so. It went on from there as follows:

And now I sit, pen in hand, contemplating how sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t. Maybe I should start a whole other blog about why I shouldn’t bother writing a blog. And by “bother,” I mean bother other people with my verbal meandering.

Note to self: does “verbal” only mean spoken or can it include the written word? It seems to me it should include writing, but I can only seem to recall hearing it used regarding spoken. I have no dictionary with me.

Well, that kept the pen moving for a while anyways. I’m re-reading Writing down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg (Shambhala Publications, 1986) and hence re-acquiring an appreciation for writing one does not intend to share. Practice writing, Goldberg calls it. Of course, I don’t do it the way she says to, never stopping the pen, not going back and re-reading, etc. I have NEVER been able to write without pausing and I have given up trying to make myself (and what a freeing decision that was!).

Full disclosure: As I write this, I picture myself typing it into my computer and publishing it as a blog post. What does that tell you?

Aha! I bet you thought that was a rhetorical question, but I am going to answer it. Writing is, for me, communication. I want to write for a reader.

That said, I understand editing. Whole sentences, paragraphs and posts will never see the light of day (the ether of the internet?) and rightly so. But as I write, I picture somebody reading it. I’m sure many writers do.

And then I stopped writing.

After I typed this nonsense into the computer, I looked up “verbal” in the dictionary (The American Heritage Dictionary, Delta, 1992). It has several meanings, only one of which is “spoken rather than written,” as in a verbal contract (which Sam Goldwyn famously said is not worth the paper it’s written on). It can also just mean having to do with words. But “verbiage,” I see, means wordiness, not specifying written or oral. I see this post is about 400 words. Plenty of verbiage for a Lame Post Friday. Have a good weekend, everyone!

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And There’s a Bird

Posted on February 8, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Before Steven and I had our collection of 50 Horror Classics, we had a smaller collection of horror movies which we enjoyed. It came in a tin box that made haunted house noises at the press of a button. I purchased it almost purely because it contained Nosferatu (the original silent version), the scariest movie ever made. But we’re not talking about Nosferatu today.

Recently a co-worker was telling me about a horror movie he had which he thought I would like. He could not remember the title but it had Jack Nicholson in it and it was trippy. He went on and I can’t remember what all he said, but something rang a bell.

“I’ve seen it,” I exclaimed (I really did “exclaim,” although I realize it sounds a little dorky when I write it that way). “It has a bird in it, right?”

“Yes!”

“I can’t remember what it’s called either.” So I went home and checked my little tin box.

The Terror (1963) also stars Boris Karloff. He would be the operative star for my purposes, although Nicholson has the bigger part. Even more importantly, the movie is directed by Roger Corman. Lovers of horror cheese need look no further.

I finally got around to watching it again, thinking my conversation with my co-worker would make a neat introduction (“neat” as in “tidy,” not “nifty neato”). Full disclosure: I did not write about it right away. I even made a note in the TV Journal that I didn’t know if I could write about it. Then I thought, on Non-Sequitur Thursday, with no other topic to hand, it would be worth a try.

Nicholson plays a soldier who is lost from his regiment, about to expire on a sandy beach, presumable the ocean, since he is dying of thirst. A beautiful girl brings him to some fresh water (which looked to me like some ocean water had just washed into a cove, but what do I know?).

It is obvious from the get-go that there is something strange about the girl, but naturally it is love at first sight for Nicholson. It should surprise no one that he intends to spend the rest of the picture trying to help her rather than rejoining his unit like a good soldier should (I don’t know why I always advocate these logical courses of action that would make for a short, boring movie).

Karloff plays a mysterious (naturally) old baron, living by himself in a creepy (naturally) old castle. He’s had a very sad and bitter past. It’s kind of too bad there aren’t any flashbacks, because the character doesn’t really have a whole lot to do in the present.

The other characters are Karloff’s servant, an eerie old lady who might be a witch, her half-wit (I think) son and, of course, the bird. I don’t know if it’s a raven or a crow or just a big old black bird, but you just know it’s going to peck somebody’s eyes out. I didn’t need a spoiler alert before I told you that.

The movie is, as my friend said, trippy. I don’t think I can even tell you what is going on, because I’m not even sure about what seems to be going on. And this was at least my second viewing. I guess I’ll have to watch it yet again. I may even write about it yet again, especially as it seems I haven’t told you much so far.

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Politically Unspoken

Posted on February 7, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I have stated numerous times that Mohawk Valley Girl stays off politics. However, as I sometimes write about not writing, I’m going to try to talk about why I don’t talk about politics.

Note: for the sake of this argument “talk” will also mean “post” as in Facebook or other social media (which, I confess, I know very little about).

One reason I don’t like to say what I think politically is that I am not very good at argument. I don’t think of good replies till much later. Also, I tend to believe people when they spout out spurious statistics. Again much later I think, “Where did they get those numbers?” and, more importantly, “Do those numbers tell the whole story?” As a political science professor I once had said, the facts never speak for themselves.

The main reason I don’t like to talk politics, though, is not that most people are my betters at rhetoric. It’s that they don’t use rhetoric at all; they just talk louder.

Simply put, people usually don’t discuss a political issue. They just shout bumper stickers at each other, after which they sometimes degenerate into personal attacks. “You don’t agree with me? You must be STUPID! Or worse! You probably kick puppies!”

Now I’ll argue with myself, in a quiet tone of voice.

People argue in sound bites because sound bites are pithy and often sound clever. And most listeners/readers do not have or will not take the time to listen to a lengthy argument, however well thought out and intelligently stated.

Be honest, when somebody posts a link to a scholarly article on an issue, how often do you click on it and read the whole thing? You can tell I don’t, because I don’t know whether they are in fact scholarly articles or venomous diatribes. I tend to suspect the latter and that is one reason I do not click on them. The other reason is that my computer is frustratingly slow and the more links I click on the slower it goes.

Furthermore (still arguing with myself), many people feel passionately about their views. When they call somebody stupid, they may be engaging in hyperbole, trying to get your attention.

My reply to this is that it is not a very effective method of argument. When somebody calls me stupid, I tend to get mad and stop listening. Calling me stupid just puts a big old gap between us when I had hoped to find some middle ground.

Which brings me to the final argument against me: sometimes people feel that there is no middle ground. Right is always right, wrong is always wrong. Some issues, these people feel, are black and white.

If this is the case, I’m afraid we’re doomed. My desire to bring civility and reason to public discourse is meaningless, because there is no compromise. What a depressing thought. Can Mohawk Valley Girl really believe such in a negative paradigm?

NO! Of course not! I believe people can talk nicely. I believe people can listen attentively. And I’m just going to wait till most of them decide to do so.

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Well, I Watched It and I Need a Post

Posted on February 6, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Spoiler Alert! I’m actually going to try to be more circumspect about this one, just to mix things up a little. Still, one can’t help but give away something.

I DVR’d Sinner Take All (neglected to write down the year) purely on the strength of the clever title. Let that be a lesson to me.

Just kidding. It really was not a bad movie. My problem was that while it was not exactly a good movie, it did not reach the level of cheesiness I seek for my blogging pleasure. Still, I watched the whole thing. I need a post. I’ll write about it.

The plot centers around a rich businessman and his grown offspring, two sons and a daughter. All four receive death threats. It is pointed out that most murderers do not advertise their intent, they just go ahead and kill whoever. It is never explained why this murderer does not follow that protocol. I could hazard a guess as to the ostensible reason (love that word, ostensible), but that would give away who the murderer is. It is one of those, “You couldn’t be sure THAT was going to happen anyways” reasons, but let’s not get into that argument.

The hero is an ex-newspaperman who has become a lawyer. As a reporter he worked for a newspaper owned by the rich businessman. Guess whose lawyer he works for now. This makes it easy for his old boss to get our hero back on the paper to cover the big story once the rich folk start to get knocked off.

The rich guy’s offspring are pretty typical: one son is a driven businessman like Dad, the other a ne’er-do-well drunkard, the daughter a madcap heiress. Our hero’s first task, while he’s still a lawyer, is to bring the daughter home so’s they can have a family summit about the death threats.

Of course she does not want to leave the speakeasy/gambling house she’s in (at least, I don’t know if it’s a speakeasy or legitimate nightclub; they weren’t clear) (this is where knowing the year of the movie may have been helpful, but let us not repine). He persuades her not by logic or appealing to her better nature but by threatening to slug her, so you just know they’re going to fall for each other.

This is only the beginning of the patronizing man-knows-best crap he pulls on her because, after all, he must keep her safe. Funny how later on the only way he can catch the killer is to use her as bait and almost get her killed. Oh, I KNOW it is more dramatic that way. I’m just saying. The irony, not surprisingly, is lost on the characters.

The head lawyer is played by George Zucco, who somebody described as “marvelously theatrical” in Dead Men Walk (which I wrote a blog post about). I was wishing he had a bigger part, because he brought a certain… ambiguity to the role. Or perhaps I was just remembering the vampire.

Well, now I’ve done it. If you watch the movie, you’ll be staring at George Zucco thinking he’s the villain. Or is he? Or isn’t he? I will neither confirm nor deny.

Another character I liked was the cop, a young man who I thought was better looking than the hero. If I’d have been the heiress, I’d have fallen for him. He’s not your typical dumb cop, either. He’s usually a step ahead of our hero, although still a step behind the murderer (I guess it would have been a short movie otherwise).

Of course I was sorry to be watching a movie about a boy reporter and not an intrepid girl reporter. You know how I love those. I perked up when I saw in the credits that Dorothy Kilgallen has a role. Kilgallen was a real life intrepid female reporter (don’t feel right calling her “girl,” although it is OK for movie characters, if you see what I mean). In this movie she is a sob sister with a small but pivotal role.

On the whole, I enjoyed the movie. The plot is convoluted enough to make it interesting. There is no shortage of suspects and if the solution is a little “Waaait a minute,” who am I to quibble? For one thing, to raise my quibble I would need to tell you the solution, and you know how I hate to do that.

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Zombies: A Love Story?

Posted on February 5, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I wanted to have Monster Movie Monday, so I tried to find one I hadn’t seen yet in Steven’s collection of 50 Horror Classics. I thought I couldn’t go wrong with Revolt of the Zombies (1936). Then again, I’ve been fooled before.

Oh yeah, Spoiler Alert! I really don’t know how to write about a movie with spoiling something. In this case, I’m probably going to be giving something of a plot summary, so I may spoil everything.

The movie takes place during World War I. The first scene finds the main guy, a soldier, trying to warn his superiors about the danger of zombies, tireless, indestructible robot creatures doing the bidding of their master. Or he may be pitching them as a way to win the war. I was counting stitches on my knitting at the time, and I was really just waiting for the monsters to show up anyways. Predictably, the superior scorns the entire notion.

In the outer office, Main Guy has a conversation with his friend, a likable egotist, who advises him to be ruthless and run roughshod over people to get what he wants. I thought, “Ah! Here is the theme of the picture: ruthless vs not. OK, now bring on the monsters.”

During this scene, a guru-looking guy is standing by, straight and utterly motionless. I thought at first he was a zombie wandered in from another scene, but no, he’s a guy that has the secret of making zombies. He’s going to show people what zombies can do. I think. It got hard to follow at this point, although things cleared up a little when they get to Angkor Wat. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Switch to a battle scene where some Asian-looking soldiers (remember, movies of this era are not known for their diversity and sensitivity) have glazed, robotic expressions on their faces. They march slowly toward the European-looking soldiers (by the mustaches, I thought they were French). The robot-like ones are impervious to bullets and annihilate the others.

Excuse me, what? I mean, did that, in fact, just happen? And did Guru Guy make it happen, just to prove a point? If they ever explained exactly who Guru Guy is, I missed it. In my defense, I was still suffering from a cold and was a little fuzzy in the head (insert smart remark of your choice).

The next thing we know, Guru Guy is murdered as he prays in front of some statue. Might have been Buddha. Might have been some Chinese god. This movie really mixes it up with the ethnicities, as far as I could tell. The murderer wants the zombie-making secret. He doesn’t get it but at least he gets away with the murder, largely because the soldiers seem more exercised about loss of the zombie secret than the dead body.

Soon they are all in Angkor Wat, where they might find the secret. The expedition is led by an archaeologist with a beautiful daughter. I’m sure some of you were just waiting for a beautiful daughter to show up (you know who you are).

I was not very impressed with the set for Angkor Wat. It was very obviously a painted backdrop. You can get away with this on stage or sometimes in a movie when it’s seen through a window. Not a very big window. Didn’t they have some stock footage of some similar looking place they could have flashed, then put the outdoor scenes next to a wall or near a tent or something? Of course, one suspends one’s disbelief when watching a movie, but my disbelief was already hanging by a thin thread.

Main Guy tells Beautiful Daughter a story about some guy who gave up everything for the woman he loved. She likes that, but it seems she doesn’t like Main Guy as much as she likes his friend the Likable Egotist. She uses Main Guy to get him and does so — you guessed it — ruthlessly.

Now I like a love triangle as well as the next movie buff, but where are the zombies? Finally, Main Guy discovers the secret. In this movie, you can turn anybody into a zombie using some kind of mental telepathy. For the first zombie, Main Guy is burning some stuff in a petri dish and wafts the fumes toward his subject, but he doesn’t do that more than once. One guy he even zombie-izes from another room.

These zombies, by the way, are not the messed-up, flesh-eating monsters you may have been hoping for. They are merely robotic. Soon Main Guy has like a bazillion of them, including his former friends and bosses.

The only one he doesn’t zombie-ize is the Beautiful Daughter, because he still wants to marry her. She agrees to marry him in order to save her true love’s life.

So what wins out in the end? Ruthlessness or sacrifice for love? Well, I don’t want to give away the ending (despite having given away practically everything else), and, quite frankly, I’m not sure of the answer even having seen the ending. I will say that the Zombie revolt, when it finally happens, is not what I would call a revolt, and I don’t think if even lasts long enough to rate being the title of the movie.

On the whole, I found it an interesting movie, largely because I kept trying to figure out what sort of a picture it was. Supernatural adventure? Philosophical love story? I’m still not sure. Perhaps I’ll get some other movie buffs to watch it with me and we’ll have a discussion. Might rate another blog post. Or would that be too ruthless of me?

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