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Tag Archives: 50 Horror Classics

Does Watching Movies Count?

I think this will be a Wrist to Forehead Sunday post.  I don’t think anybody will be particularly surprised, least of all me.  I have been sitting here most of the day being unable to do much. Of course, it is a truism of my life that I am almost incapable of getting anything done on a Sunday, and that is true in the best of times.  Although I personally have very little to complain about,  these are clearly not the best of times (did anybody else just flash on the opening of Tale of Two Cities?).

I had thought to have a Sunday Cinema post,  since of course we are watching movies.

That’s no rhododendron!

We started with Little Shop of Horrors,  because today is Roger Corman’s birthday.  I SO prefer the original black and white horror/comedy to the more recent musical (although the movie of same is now “old,” the stage musical has been presented by area high schools).  However, to each his own, as the old lady does it when she kissed the cow.

Next we watched Hush… Hush, Sweet Charlotte, because it is also Bette Davis’ birthday.  I love a good gothic horror, especially of the psycho biddy genre.

An excellent cast, but where’s Cecil Kellaway?

After that I went on to a couple of unmemorable monster movies, for which I do not have pictures in my Media Library.

And look, I am over 200 words.  I am going to count that as a win and hit Publish,  before I swoon onto a handy chaise, dramatically posed.  Happy Sunday, folks.

 

Slacker Sunday? Or Cinema? Whatever!

Is Slacker Sunday a thing or does this have to be a Sunday Cinema post?   I don’t know why I’m asking.  This is my blog and I make the rules.  Full disclosure: I have had a couple of drinks.  Judge me if you are so inclined.

We began the relaxing portion of our Sunday out on our deck, enjoying a lovely breeze and watching some laundry flap.  How I love my clothesline and am so grateful to my parents for giving it to me.

Eventually we went back into the house and pu in our DVD of Death on the Nile, one of our star-studded Agatha  Christies (ooh, that autocorrect burns my buns!  “What the” instead of “Agatha”?  And “buns”  instead of “burns”?  What the Hell?).

After Death on the Nile, we enjoyed Rope, an Alfred Hitchcock,  but not one of his more prominent films. Now we are watching The Giant Gila Monster, from our collection of 50 Horror Classics. I can’t say I am particularly enamored of the flick, but I’m the one who picked it.

I feel sorry I can’t share pictures of these movies, but it is not so easy on the Tablet as it is on the laptop.   We all know I am not as technologically adept as one could wish.  However, this is Wrist to Forehead Sunday.  I swoon on my metaphorical chaise lounge and hope for a better post tomorrow.

 

George Zucco on Monstrous Monday

I had vague hopes (not high hopes, as you see) of making a real post, perhaps writing it while on break at work.  I also had what I thought were firm plans to exercise after work.  I should have known better.  Now here I am, in a monstrous mood, typing off the top of my head and hoping for a Monstrous Monday post.  I do like monsters.

“Y’see, dock, it hurts right about here…”

Here is George Zucco and… a friend (I bet you thought I was going to say his mummy) (you know who you are).  I had seen a picture of George Zucco and a gorilla in one of my movie groups earlier and thought I might download it.  I went back to Facebook and searched “Geroge Zucco.”  There it was!  At the last minute I thought, what if it belongs to somebody and I was supposed to get permission?  So I changed my search to “George Zucco public photos.”  I kind of like the mummy better anyways.  It is more monstrous.

I was introduced to George Zucco (it just feels right to use his entire name every time) in our 50 Horror Classics DVD collection.  He is described as “marvelously theatrical.”  I’m sure I’ve written blog posts about some of his movies.  I really must start doing movie write-ups again.  They are such fun.  For me, at least.

Spoiler alert: they do more than just walk in this flick.

I think this is one of the movies I wrote about.   If I was better about tagging, I could probably find it and link back to it.  And here we come to the ugly truth about me.

I still don’t know why the monster was so mad.

I actually do not remember if I saw this one or not, but I thought it would be nice to include another picture with George Zucco.  My new ambition for the week:  to watch a movie featuring George Zucco and write about it.  It is good to make a big plan on a Monday.

 

Vampire? What Vampire?

I was not sure if I could write effectively about Atomic Age Vampire (1961),but when I realized the title made it a perfect candidate for Non-Sequitur Thursday, I thought I would give it a try.

Spoiler Alert!  I’ve probably already spoiled it for some people by giving away the lack of truth in advertising.  Then again, you might like to be forewarned about that.  At least I’m not going to give away the ending, because I don’t exactly remember it.

The movie is one of our “50 Horror Classics,” the DVD set I purchased for a very moderate amount, considering how much entertainment we’ve derived from it.  I had a craving for some Halloween cheese, and this movie fit the bill nicely.

The movie opens cheesily enough in a strip club.  To add to the ambiance, it is rather obviously dubbed.  A sailor (I think) is about to go on deployment (I guess) and is breaking up with his beautiful blond girlfriend because she would not quit her sleazy job.  I must confess to some feminist indignation on Blondie’s behalf.  Sailor Boy must have know she had a career when he started dating her.

And isn’t that typical of either gender?  They fall in love with somebody and the first thing they want to do is change them. It gives me that little frisson on virtue, because I love my husband just the way he is.  But I digress.

I may digress further in a bit, because this is also another one of those movies that centers around a mad scientist using nefarious means to restore and maintain a woman’s beauty.  What does this say about our superficial society?  In mad scientist’s defense, other than restoring her beauty (which, to be fair, she wants too), he does not desire to change Blondie but loves her (albeit in an obsessive, mad scientist kind of way) just the way she is.

Ah, I see I’ve left out the part where she loses her beauty.  In her grief over Sailor Boy’s defection, Blondie crashes her car.  That she survives at all is quite the miracle, but the only thing to sustain much damage seems to be her face.  Really, shouldn’t she at least have been in a wheelchair?  Maybe one arm in a sling?  But no, just her face all bandaged up like the Invisible Man.  Go figure.

Mad Scientist naturally has a female assistant who is in love with him and will do his bidding.  And, just as naturally, he is just not that into her (I love that expression).  Personally, I thought she was pretty good-looking, but I suppose she lacked Blondie’s glamorous appeal.  I mean, once Blondie gets her face back.  Maybe it was all about the bodies, which, I confess, I did not particularly notice.

Anyways, Lovelorn Assistant convinces Blondie that Mad Scientist can help her.  Do I need to tell you that restoring Blondie’s beauty requires the murders of numerous other young, nubile females?  Lovelorn Assistant does most of the killing.  Oh, these people who will do anything for love!

Now that I think about it, they could have done a lot more with the two adjoining love triangles:  Mad Scientist/Assistant/Blondie and Blondie/Sailor Boy/Scientist.  But then I suppose that would have left less time for nefarious scientific doings.

I bet some of you have noticed that I have not yet mentioned any vampire, let alone an atomic age one.  That’s because I didn’t see any.  I suppose one could make the argument that the killing of young ladies to feed Blondie’s beauty is vampiric activity.  And there may have been some atomic stuff in the laboratory that I failed to notice.  The killing of young ladies is, of course, a time-honored mad scientist technique, not an atomic age innovation.  I am inclined to believe that they just slapped on a title that they thought would get people to watch the damned movie.  After all, it worked on me.

Random Thoughts at the Laundromat

I really must get back to running on Saturday mornings and have my Saturday Running Commentary. This week it was better for me to do run on Friday and do laundry on Saturday (today). I suppose I could have written about Friday’s run and published it today. Only I did not write about it on Friday and today I don’t seem to remember that much about it. Ah, middle age.

In the meantime, Saturday is passing and I have no blog post. In desperation, I offer some nonsense I wrote while at the laundromat this morning (I’m not really desperate; I just like the prepositional phrase “in desperation”).

I have discovered that 50 Mystery Classics is not filled with the delightful cheesy nuggets I found in 50 Horror Classics. I’m sure there are some films I could write about. First I am seeking films I can sit through all the way. I tried and discarded two last weekend. As I often say, one must persevere in these things. Um, not necessarily to the end of a movie. In writing a blog post about a movie. Or anything. That is what I mean to persevere at.

A note to new readers, if any: 50 Horror Classics and 50 Mystery Classics are DVD collections I purchased for my husband Steven at the local big box store for a really quite reasonable price. I have written several blog posts about silly movies in the Horror collection.

So here I am writing Another Post About Why I Can’t Write a Post. This one is perhaps destined for my Drafts section, so I can haul it out and hit Publish in an emergency. Um, unless I don’t come up with something else to write about for today. Then this baby is right here for me. (And you see what happened, obviously, although full disclosure: I, for one, saw it coming.)

OK, what I am really doing is killing time in the laundromat while my clothes tumble in the drier. I’ve already folded the first little bunch (confession: some of the sock cuffs seemed a little damp. I hope they don’t mildew). I wrote a letter to a friend, stared at the last things I wrote on my novel, pondered a few other ideas, made a to-do list for the rest of the day. Why I don’t bring a book to the laundromat is beyond me.

I continue to sit here jotting down randoms thoughts and wondering how or if I will use them. Publish them as written? A kind of stream of consciousness patchwork, a sort of modern art, abstract deal. Or could I take each random thought, expend some actual thought on it and come up with several authentic blog posts? The possibility intrigues me.

I am tired of being here and want to get on with my day. I could sit here and list all the things I dislike about doing laundry. Then I could attempt to counteract my grouchiness by listing all the good things or at least the minor compensations.

Oh, but it’s time to stand in front of the drier and stare at the 1:00, waiting for the last sixty seconds to pass.

Hope to see you all on Wrist to Forehead Sunday.