So I can’t believe I’m writing about Rocky Horror Picture Show, because this movie used to be such a huge phobia of mine.  I know that this probably seems weird, or at least over-reactionary, but it has to do with a particular incident from my youth.

When I was growing up, late-elementary-school-ish (the exact timing when this happened isn’t as important as how), my dad and stepmom were watching the film with a couple of friends of theirs who had come over for dinner and to visit.  All the adults were draped over various living room seating glued to the oversized television.

This wasn’t atypical, and my stepsister and I would pass through on occasion as the adults were watching movies.  Sometimes we’d flop around ourselves and join in the voyeurism.  Movies were my father’s life, they offered up some alternate reality in contrast to his illness, which kept him housebound.  So the television was always on, either as a focus or as background noise.  Mostly campy B-rated sci-fi movies abounded with other weirdness and pop culture thrown in.

But in this particular incident, the adults were engaging with the Rocky Horror movie itself, even more than the usual pun-induced banter.  They all acted all together in response to certain scenes, in an orchestrated way, as if they were part of the script.  The result was both alienating and a little frightening, like some in-crowd joke that I was too young to understand, and from what little I caught of the screen, said joke seemed to be of a sexual nature.

So I was avoiding the entourage, a bit more than usual, while also trying to catch glimpses of whatever it was that had their attention.  You know, passing through the living room en route to the kitchen for a glass of tea, or another, or to use the bathroom, or looking for one of the cats to bother… the usual kid lurker stuff.

I happened to be thusly passing through the room when the scene of Rocky’s creation captured my attention.  Between seeing his half-naked, gold spandexed frame playing off of Frank N Furter’s gender-bending glory, I was entranced.  I stood there bug-eyed, mouth agape, and just stared.  That is, until my parents’ friend pointed me out for it, directing all the eyeballs in the room to rest upon me in my bewildered strange sexual awakening.

I was horrified.  I instantly retreated from the room and made a mental note to never ever watch the film under any circumstances, so as to not appear so hypnotized by whatever it was that had captured me.  For.  Over.  Twenty.  Years.  Despite posing nude within my figure-drawing group, making artworks utilizing my own menstrual blood as media, and showing my works in erotically charged and socio-politically themed exhibitions.  That particular movie remained off-limits.

Fast forward… a photographer friend of mine was giddy with anticipation.  Her son was going to be playing Frank N. Furter in the live action version of the film at the local community college and she was inviting everyone she knew.  She got me two free tickets, and good seats at that.  I had to overcome my irrational childhood fear.  I had to give myself over to my vulnerability.

I don’t remember much of the show itself except that my fears were irrational and I rather enjoyed it.  My friend’s son did a brilliant portrayal, capturing the character beautifully.  The show was totally up my alley based on my sense of humor, spectacle, and love of 4^th wall breaking cinema and writing.  It was an experience, and a pleasant one at that.

There was even a young girl in attendance, of about the same age I had been when I first encountered the film, there with her parents and gleefully part of the proceeding.  Her parents explained that Rocky Horror Picture Show was her favorite movie, and I could easily picture myself as that girl in another time and place.  It wasn’t even a stretch considering the fact that I had a thing for Tim Curry and my favorite movie was Clue.

And, even more importantly, it got me talking to my partner about sexual fantasies, fears, and vulnerabilities, which sparked a sexual awakening in our relationship in ways we had not previously known that stayed with us for months afterwards.  In fact, it nearly saved our marriage (though sadly it was doomed to fail due to our having grown apart spiritually and emotionally, and no amount of physicality was going to repair that).

So I guess I’m writing this to point out the incredible power of Rocky Horror Picture Show and its ability to redefine gender and sensuality according to its terms.  This is the energy that I want to embrace, to encourage, to nurture in some of my own work.  For in the flicker of the cinematic circumstance, we can emerge from our own vulnerabilities to express our true selves on our own terms.  We can shiver with anticipation as we open up the time warp into our own wants and desires, to eschew traditions and roles that we never felt connected with.  And we can revel in sharing that experience with others who feel need to do the same.

The photographs are from more costume-based figure modeling sessions, but I thought we may as well do the Time Warp again again while we’re here. If you want to see some of the previous posts featuring identity costume art, here’s Time Warp 1 and Rock-y the Vote 2… Or feel free to read my other personal essay about The Spooky Dentist…

And feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.

There are a lot of holiday horrors with the phrase Silent Night in their title. So, to help keep things straight, Silent Night Bloody Night is the one that no one should waste their time watching.

The story

Released in 1972, Silent Night Bloody Night is the story of an abandoned house. When it’s inherited by a man named Jeffrey Butler, the town tries to buy it from him. He sends his lawyer, John Carter, to negotiate. What follows is a Christmas-time revenge killing spree in the house that used to be an insane asylum and is now just a gross eyesore. Much like in Halloween, a prodigal son came home and started killing. Unlike in Halloween, viewers can’t bring themselves to care.

What worked

I would like to give credit where it’s due when I can find it. There were some legitimately creepy scenes in this movie. Two of them, to be precise.

The shots of the escaped inmates are well done. The makeup, dull facial expressions, and zombie-like movements were truly unnerving. In what is maybe the only well done scene in the whole movie, an inmate walks into the dining room and slowly drains a glass of wine. He then breaks the glass and uses the broken piece to rip out a doctor’s eye.

I also enjoyed or was at least unnerved by, the phone calls the killer makes from the house. They were great little eerie moments.

What didn’t work

I first need to point out that the production value of this movie is ass. I’m sure I could have shot a better movie on a Tamagotchi.

The whole thing is grainy, dark and dull. Even scenes with bright colors have all the brightness of a mechanics wash rag. And there are parts where the physical film was corrupted, leaving big black splotches.

Maybe I’m being too hard on it. I mean it was released in 1972. It’s not like they had access to advanced filming equipment. Like, for instance, The Godfather or Deliverance.

Oh, wait. Both those films also came out in 1972. And they sure as hell don’t look like this. Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory and Twelve Chairs came out the year before and they look great.

Granted, those films were preserved, digitized, and treated like the works of art they are. Silent Night, Bloody Night was apparently kept near a furnace, in the hopes that it might catch fire and never trouble anyone again.

None of that would matter, though, if the movie was any good. But it’s not. Let’s start with the voiceovers because that’s what the movie starts with.

Voiceovers are great when they add context or interesting commentary. A Christmas Story has voiceovers through the whole thing, and that’s great. This commentary, however, is a cautionary tale against telling not showing. It fails to be interesting or give additional information. It’s just bad.

What bothered me most is that not one shred of joy seems to have gone into this film. Unlike Mercy Christmas, which we talked about last week, nobody is having a good time.

The music is morose rather than eerie. The acting is lazy and half-hearted. Even in the most dramatic scenes, everyone delivers their lines like they’re reading off a list of instructions to build something they don’t care about building. And the effects are just horrific. We don’t see a single blow in any of the fight scenes. We see people wincing in pain, and weapons being raised. And that is it.

I suppose we might say this is to stave off the censors. But my God, that’s not what a Christmas horror movie is for. And it still has an R rating, even though we see neither boobies nor an axe biting into flesh. If you’re going to get stuck with the R rating, earn it.

Overall, Silent Night Bloody Night was devoid of anything joyful. It wasn’t fun to watch, it didn’t leave me with anything to ponder or savor. It was just a bad movie, from start to finish. (1 / 5)

Christmas time is here! It’s time to listen to the same five songs until your ears bleed, spend time with people you’d fake your own death to avoid the rest of the year and stuff yourself with way too much food. And, it’s time for my favorite holiday tradition, watching horrible Christmas movies to tell you all exactly how god-awful they are. Let’s start with Mercy Christmas, a film about a family with a unique set of holiday traditions. And, a unique holiday menu.

The story

Our main character is named Michael Briskett. He’s a lonely man working a dull job with an abusive boss. But he’s doing his best to have a good Christmas. He even throws a party for everyone at his work.

No one shows up, though, except for the boss’s beautify assistant, Cindy. Together they have some drinks, and eventually, she invites him to her family’s Christmas celebration.

Personally, if a woman that beautiful had asked me out, I’d assume she thought I had money. But poor Michael is so swept up in being included that he jumps on the chance.

When he arrives at the family home of the Robillards, he finds two nasty surprises waiting. The first is that Cindy’s brother is Andy, his horrible boss. The second is that the family intends to eat him and three other people throughout Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day.

After that is, Michael finishes up a work project for Andy. Because it’s not bad enough that he will be eaten, he also has to work over Christmas.

What worked

There are two kinds of bad Christmas movies. The ones that are actually bad, like Gingerdead Man, and the ones that are bad in all the wonderfully right ways that make them a real holiday treat. Mercy Christmas was one of the latter.

First, no one is taking a single second of this seriously. The writers sure didn’t, when they wrote a scene in which Michael and Eddie are tied together by Christmas tree lights to battle the Robillards. The actors didn’t. Half the time you can see them holding back a mighty laugh with all of their might. The stunt coordinators, the costume department, and the effects team were all doing their very best to make this movie as hilarious as possible. Because at every moment, every detail was selected to be funny and festive rather than serious. Cindy wearing a cross to church service. The pineapple on the roast leg. Grandma insisting that they do stockings at her specific time, as though they haven’t got three strangers tied up in the basement. All of this was funny as hell, exactly as it was supposed to be.

Every single person involved with Mercy Christmas was having a fantastic time. As I mentioned, the whole cast felt like they were about to start laughing. There is so much joy in their faces, even when it’s not exactly a joyful scene. But it’s the attention to comical detail that makes it clear that this movie was a labor of love for everybody.

Finally, I adore that the Robillard family acts exactly how we all picture people behaving at a big family Christmas. At least, if the family has money. Everyone’s arguing over food, talking about how they miss their mom, and fussing at each other. But everyone is also doing their little part to make Christmas great for their family after suffering the loss of their beloved mom.

If they weren’t eating people, this could have been a Hallmark Christmas movie.

What didn’t work

All of that being said, there was one thing that bothered me about this movie.

Over and over, we come back to the fact that Mrs. Robillard died. It’s brought up often enough that I thought for sure that it was going to be a bigger plot point. But it isn’t. That just seems to be window dressing for the family.

This felt like failed misdirection. When misdirection is done well, we don’t care about it anymore after the sleight of hand is accomplished. But there is no sleight of hand here. There is no misdirection. We’re just left wondering why the hell the mother was brought up so often if nothing was going to come of it.

All in all, Mercy Christmas was a fun, bloody movie with some incredibly satisfying moments. And while I don’t know if it’ll make it on my list every year, I can see myself coming back for seconds.

(4 / 5)