THAT MOMENT : The bus to Pomona

INLAND EMPIRE (2006)

It's always a nice surprise to take in a movie that's better than you expected it to be. But it's an unforgettable moment that's burned into your timeline when you see a film that ends up being exactly what you needed at that point in your life; when you find something that's like less of a movie and more like medicine. In the winter of '06/'07 INLAND EMPIRE opened in only a handful of US cinemas and fortunately for me one of those cinemas was only a train ride away - to The Brattle Theater in Cambridge, Massachusetts. where I missed an actual appearance from David Lynch himself by only two days. Oh well, at least he left behind his experimental three hour shot-on-video mind-melting masterpiece that engulfed me in amazement and wonder and reignited my passion to be an artist. I was at the starting point of my college internship, and anyone who's ever endured one of those would testify that it can be a soul-crushing experience that could rob you of your ambitions. But then there was this movie - a DIY feature that entirely captured and illustrated a specific mood. My mood. Yeah it's cute to order a pizza and watch a Ninja Turtles movie, but hiking through indifferent city streets in the cold darkness of a New England winter to sit and shiver in a drafty arthouse theater with my own despair was easily the best way to experience this movie. I came back, all alone, for two more viewings so I could relive this entire journey. 

Part of that experience (apart from the entirety of the movie itself) was the sound design - I knew eventual home video would never be as loud as the theater atmosphere (even as antiquated as The Brattle is). Many great movies have That Moment - for me, this one has at least half a dozen; I gasped and giggled my way through it in surprise and sometimes disbelief at its innovations and abstractions. And then, after roughly 2.5 hours as its weirdness began to seem predictable and pretentious, the movie outdoes its own incoherence as we land on three new "characters" in a 7-minute scene centered around Japanese actress Nae as she delivers a monologue as meandering and engrossing as the movie itself. It took me subsequent viewings to recognize how beautiful and bizarre this detour is in a film full of mysteries and mazes; it's this scene that best helps us understand that this artistic journey was never meant to be linear or literal, but instead a voyage of moods and ideas with a filmmaker who's flexing a newfound form of freedom, and for me, his enthusiasm is palpable. 

- Paul

THAT MOMENT : John and Paul's private conversation

The Beatles: Get Back (2021)

Every November I get a bit of a Beatle craving; it's the month I wholly discovered and embraced the band back in 1995 when The Beatles Anthology aired on ABC, and so every year for the past three decades my biological clock never fails to alert me in my hour of darkness. Though in the months and seasons that followed that initial discovery I explored and championed each of their individual songs and albums and movies and phases so it very much is a year round celebration for me - as it maybe should be with the things that bring us joy. But for most of my life now I've revisited the Anthology around this time of year, and certainly enough times to recite the entire 12 hour documentary by heart. So I, like any Beatlemaniac, am always ready to cautiously accept some "new material" - and what Disney and Peter Jackson unveiled is the most exciting and inspiring Beatle-related thing since the band broke up.

Paul Thomas Anderson's immediate reaction to Get Back was that he wished it were longer, and that was my leading thought too; for the duration of its 470 runtime I had trouble believing that what I was seeing was even real. I'd seen the Let it Be documentary many years ago on a muddy VHS rental, and as fascinating and telling as that was, it somehow felt compromised - and until 2021 I had no idea just compromised it was. Candid film of artists practicing their craft is like drugs to me, but watching these four particular artists being creative in nearly real time is like a dream - and one of the more bizarre satisfactions of this miniseries is how the events and behaviors and personalities play out exactly like you'd want them to - as though it were a densely scripted biopic. And no segment feels that way more than the "secret" conversation between John and Paul.

Supposedly recorded without their knowledge, the founding fathers of The Fab Four engage in a stern but polite argument regarding: George's recent departure from the group, Paul's tendency to be controlling, and the ultimate future of The Beatles. This is the kinda stuff we've only ever read about, and anything we've ever read was from biographers or witnesses or from these two respective musicians (who could only ever have a subjective point of view), and what they say here on tape and how they say it is such a straightforward string of exposition that it really does feel like the cliché TV movie. But it's not - it's John Lennon and Paul McCartney doing the whole He Said, He Said bit that's become as fabled as the music they made together, and it's superbly preserved along with every other momentous moment in this movie. Now I want them to give us the rest of it...

- Paul

THAT MOMENT : Terminate with extreme prejudice

Apocalypse Now (1979)

Coppola infamously stated, "My film is not a movie - it's not about Vietnam. It is Vietnam." The assertion comes across as pretentious or even obtuse, though it's clearly some abstraction he thought up on his slow descent toward the threshold of madness. However the hell he meant it the movie is clearly metaphorical as a mood and comes across better as an idea rather than some basic narrative -- and thank god for that. To this day Vietnam War Movies abstain from its political backstory in preference of some combat action, and while there's potential drama under both columns, very few stories brave the balance of bloodshed and bureaucracy. And that's the sorta point of Apocalypse Now and probably what Francis was driving at: the film pulled from several themes surrounding the conflict and chose to illustrate them not with expository dialogue or even historical accuracy, but rather with ambient violence and eerie absurdity. In other words: The Vietnam War. And every scene or sequence or even the entire plot is only symbolic of the reality it's depicting, up to and including the movie's only real scene of exposition - the mission brief. 

I suppose on an objective level the scene is an analogy for generals and politicians and people of power devising sinister schemes behind closed doors, but that is also literally what's happening here. But it feels metaphorical because of the pageantry put into it: the orange muddy glow in the air, the shallow focus closeups of the unappetizing foods, the jangled delivery given by each of the characters, Brando's ghostly narration traveling across time & space. The intended dreaminess of the pace and performances and cinematography really promotes the urgency of the plot, but I'm just about the vibe here - when you stand back from it the whole movie is like this really, but for this brief sequence where we're out of the jungle and in this supposedly civilized setting, it plays like a well-crafted Thriller that you'd find in the midpoint between Jonathan Demme and David Fincher. This is a filmmaker I'd trust to make an effectively atmospheric Dracula movie. 

- Paul

THAT MOMENT : Promentory

The Last of the Mohicans (1992)

What is "Cinema"? Not since Godard became so publicly existential about it over half a century ago has this been up for such a large-scale debate. Obviously it describes the medium itself in the most basic terms, and it's also the physical building that shows movies, but as of late it's become an idiom of abstraction. The subject of the debate is trying to secure an objective definition of a subjective experience. Ludicrous. But, that in and of itself is the definition: if a film genuinely moves you, makes you feel something, sounds like it's talking to you, that's Cinema. And then the only real question is, "How'd they do that?" 

There's also an established phrase called Cinéma Pur ("Pure Cinema") that refers solely to the visual and auditory elements of Film, free of any Theatre-based components like plot and dialogue. Michael Mann's The Last of the Mohicans is on my short list of mainstream narrative movies that accomplishes this technique in the most effective way - specifically during the film's climax. Action Movies typically do pull this off to some extent but the most recognizable use of Pure Cinema in story-driven films can be found in Melodramas. The thing about Mohicans (like most of Michael Mann's films) is that it's very much both of these genres, and the two figuratively and literally meet up in one of the most captivating sequences in any movie I've seen. 

The context of the scene has its own emotional impact: it's a daring chase sequence in which major characters meet their end, and on the page I'm sure that holds enough weight to sell a story. But stories are for books - this is about the movies, and what we hear and see on the screen in these final moments is a masterpiece of sound and vision. Consider the scenery on its own: filmed mostly in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, it's worth it just to admire the skill and ambition of the cast and crew getting situated on the edge of a cliff and performing feats of cinematic wizardry in real time. And one of the most impressive parts of this is that the scenery almost feels incidental; between the score (titled "Promentory" by Trevor Jones) and the choreographed action and the compositions and the editing, it's just a mesmerizing ballet of music and movement. There's no dialogue to minimize the impact, it's just 9 minutes of sensory overload that nearly brings me to my feet in excitement every time. That's Cinema. 

- Paul

THAT MOMENT : A little gussing game

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)

When a typically "Dramatic" director attempts straight Comedy, the outcome is always interesting (1941, After Hours, Punch-Drunk Love). Regardless of whether or not they're successful or even effective, it provides a window into their sense of humor (despite his genius, Spielberg is plainly a child). Kubrick predictably had the most complex approach: in order for this satire to work, nearly every element had to be grounded in realism, free from abstractions. Seems like that would be uncomfortable territory for Stanley Kubrick, but he clearly understood the assignment and predictably knew how to make a picture exactly how he knew it should be made. 

Consider this scene on paper: a military General takes his own life for fear of being captured and tortured by his own men, taking with him the only disarming code to prevent imminent Mutual Assured Destruction. I think it's the funniest scene in a film of funny scenes. The movie's segmented into three different threads each featuring a separate cast of characters all working with and against each other. This thread - The Ripper/Mandrake thread - is my favorite for a number of reasons, mostly because of the uncomfortable intimacy of this literal hostage situation consisting of the stoic but insane U.S. Officer and the polite but rational British Officer as his captive. Throughout the movie Mandrake placates Ripper to assure his own personal safety, but then as this pivotal moment draws near and Sterling becomes more morose and withdrawn, Sellers amps up the Hoorah Henry cup-o-tea English charm as he begins to frantically save the world in a matter of seconds. Ripper merely insinuates that he's about to take some sort of action, and in the next 40 seconds of screen time Peter Sellers breaks into what I want to assume is a frenetic stream of improv as he scrambles to politely retrieve any pertinent information from Sterling Hayden before he blows his brains out. The real punchline for me is when Sterling finally disappears into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him as Sellars is left alone, trying to carry on a one-sided conversation through the door, involving a "guessing game" that he's just made up on the spot in a weak attempt to figure out the recall code. "I'll try and guess what the code is--" as a single gunshot stifles his proposed game rules like a rimshot punctuation. 

- Paul

THAT MOMENT : Scariest Non-Horror Movie Moments of the 90s Edition!

Wizard of Oz, Willy Wonka, Raiders, Roger Rabbit -- we know all the regular ol' movies with unexpected detours into pure terror - they were a rite of passage that callused us for harder viewing. Doesn't seem to be much of a thing anymore as pace changes were abandoned both within and without Cinema, but the 90s still had several to offer. There were certainly plenty of Thrillers that had me on the edge of my seat and Actioners that blew up a lotta heads, but these are 5 movies that barely insinuated a truly scarring experience and yet provided them with little or no consent. And for that, I applaud and cherish them. 

- Paul

Ghost

Highway to Hell

Apart from the central thread of Patrick Swayze: Ghost Detective this movie's other main purpose is to suggest a possible reality of the afterlife. Once I was in that mindset I was ready to believe the fact that bad people are dragged off into some unseen netherworld by groaning shadow people. That was a more effective incentive to not do crimes than Jesus, Santa, and Robocop combined. 

Eyes Wide Shut

Where the rainbow ends

Can't even mention this movie without spiraling off into a thousand word essay. There's a general understanding that some or all of this movie takes place in a dream - intentional or not, I've always found that explanation to be a flimsy attempt at a self-satisfying logic; one could take that approach toward all his movies because they all feel this way. On more literal terms, when the two masked patrons simultaneously look at Bill, their pace matching the speed of the zoom in, it's the most accurate onscreen depiction of what my own nightmares feel like - even more so than anything in The Shining. 

Trainspotting

Baby Dawn

Of the countless number of movies (and books and TV shows) that made grotesque attempts to get the glamour out of drug use, this moment sums it up most effectively. Nevermind the quirky fever dream doll on the ceiling - if anything that made lite of this otherwise horrific reveal that even straightforward scary movies don't mess with too much. 

Casino

The powers that be

If anyone were to ask me what the most violent movie I'd ever seen was, it's not some Spaghetti Zombie flick or New French Extreme buffoonery, it's still Casino. That's due in part to context, but also because of the actual onscreen graphic content, and I don't imagine I'll ever see anything as brutal and shocking as Nicky and Dominick's death in any other movie not labeled as "Horror." 

Dumb and Dumber

Lloyd's fantasy 

Everyone knows that Kung Fu Movie violence has a blank check for madness that's beyond reproach. Though I'm not sure I knew that when I was 10 or 11 or however old I was when this came out; it's played for laughs, and I laughed, but cripes I wasn't in the frame of mind for internal organs, no matter how bloodless. 

THAT MOMENT : Scariest Horror Movie Moments of the 90s Edition!

Horror in the 1980s felt grounded in something: themes, style, plot, mood, predictability. But in the 1990s there were a lot of new, creative, weird, occasionally satirical, sometimes dumb ideas, making the decade substantially unpredictable; and that unpredictability caused an uneasiness that could sometimes be scary. In fact, that's a major difference for me between these two clearly defined decades of Horror Cinema: the 90s had more legitimate scares on average than perhaps any other period of time. I'm serious! We may not've gotten the parade of Halloween costumes and magazine pinups that poured out of the 80s, but we did get a whole lotta fright, and that feels like the greater accomplishment. 

Not many movie things scare me - more likely to bum me out, gross me out, or cause me to jump with some cheap auditory sting - but the better part of the monsters and madmen that infected my thoughts and haunted my dreams came from the final decade of the 20th century, particularly these 5 moments. 

- Paul

From Dusk Till Dawn

A mean motherfuckin' servant of God

Upon its release, no one didn't point out the dramatic shift from Crime Thriller to Gorefest halfway through the picture, often noting the first half was more engrossing and punctilious than the mindless mayhem following the pace change. I disagree. The second half maintains the sharp dialogue, and the plot twists and developments are even more elaborate than the humdrum hostage smokescreen in the setup. But the biggest and best surprise comes when the background dread of angry bats all come flooding into the Titty Twister at once and we know we're fucked. And in one of the greatest reveal shots in Horror Movie History, we find out just how fucked we are. 

Innocent Blood

Italian food

Shortly before From Dusk Till Dawn's flesh eating demon versions of "vampires" I'd always been used to the suave, gentle, "you're gonna feel a slight pinch" vampire. This was the first time I'd seen an animalistic, carnivorous attack complete with generic wildcat roars and sloppy consumption the likes of which I'd not witnessed since Landis's own Werewolf in London. Out of the dozens of vampire flicks released just in the 90s alone, this one felt the most real. 

Lord of Illusions

Homecoming Time

When former cult followers learn of their leader's resurrection, they immediately and gruesomely cut ties with their current lives, casually murdering their respective families, coworkers, etc. It's the darkest and most depressing thing Clive's ever put on screen, but it was only ever scary to me as a kid - not as such that a loved one would kill me, but that they're secretly this other person whose allegiance lies elsewhere.

Jacob's Ladder

Tail from the Darkside

If this film feels kinda ambiguous by the end, just try and remember how it feels at the beginning! The movie's mood (though the movie itself is a mood) is put in place pretty quickly and this introductory scene salts the wound immediately; in a very subtle and simple practical makeup effect, Jacob possibly glimpses a reptilian tail hanging out of the tattered clothes of a homeless subway dweller. Dimly lit, no music cue, just a horrible omen foreshadowing the gross, dark world of unpredictable foreboding that we're stuck in right along with him. 

The Blair Witch Project

Ghost kids

The movie has one speed, and that speed is white knuckle panic, so whenever there was any kinda bite, however big or small, it bit like a bitch. The "creepy kids" chestnut typically does nothing for me, but laughter in the dark approaching unseen, leading up to some formless violent chaos conveyed a paralyzing vulnerability that makes me feel unsafe even after the movie's over. It's The Greatest Horror Movie Moment of the 1990s. 

THAT MOMENT : The Devil's Backbone

Airborne (1993)

What was the most intense sequence to come out of 1993 Cinema? The T.Rex attack in Jurassic Park? The alien abduction in Fire in the Sky? The opening scene of Cliffahnger? Nothing but turkey shoots with extra tryptophan when compared to the climax of the Rollerblading Epic Airborne. If you think I'm joking it's because you haven't seen it, and if you have it's time to face the facts. 

The plot is mechanical and tedious. Very quickly: High Schooler Mitchell is forced to leave behind his gnarly California lifestyle and move in with his aunt and uncle in grey Ohio. All the Midwestern kids hate him and bully him for reasons that are poorly explained. Differences are set aside when Mitchell and his tormentors join forces for an inline skating race against a whole other set of bullies: rollerblading through residential and city streets on a route they've named The Devil's Backbone. 

The race isn't only the singular set piece of the movie, it's clearly the reason the whole movie was made: We wanna shoot this incredible extravaganza of stunts, so we need to build a story around it. The film has other choreographed moments of conflict and action and comedy, but in those moments you're just witnessing the by-the-book screenwriting you see in a lotta Action and Comic Book movies. Fortunately in this case, this sorta "filler" (which occupies nearly the entire picture) translates into a sharply accurate pastiche of its time; it's the most 1993 movie there ever was. You can enjoy it for that, no apologies, and it'll certainly help you get through to the absolutely astonishing final 15 minutes. 

Unlike the aforementioned movies I mentioned (as well as just about every other movie ever) this sequence is completely on-camera athletics: no digital animation, no blue screen, no organized fighting, no death proof cars, just helmets and kneepads and balls. Think along the lines of Evel Knievel or Jackass but shot & cut with more panache and perseverance. No suspension of disbelief is required, because 1. the movie doesn't leave any room to become emotionally invested in the point of the outcome, 2. you really can't tell which skater is which character in the midst of the action, and 3. stars or stunt people, what you're seeing is real. The feats are performed in real time and flirt along the borders of magic tricks, but it's the wipeouts and collisions and accidents that cause you to bring your hand to your mouth and audibly gasp. I continue to have zero interest skating - watching or participating - but that's because this works on a different level; these are practical effects writ large and extreme. 

- Paul

THAT MOMENT : I am love

Philadelphia (1993)

All art should strive to move and change its audience in profound ways. Cinema is no exception. Some of its greatest works have united people throughout the past century. Filmmakers have a unique ability to illustrate feelings and help their viewings navigate them in a safe way. 

   Any cine-buff knows the story of why Jonathon Demme made Philadelphia. While Silence of the Lambs was met with enormous critical success, it was slammed by the LGBTQIA+ community, for painting transexuals in a negative way, and being too mean. This backlash was directed at Demme himself, and it deeply depressed him, because it was quite inaccurate to his personal beliefs and tolerance of sexuality. This inner conflict resulted in his followup feature; a movie that holds its viewers hands, and immerses you in its heart. And if you have any love or empathy in you, you will be a different person when the credits are through rolling.

   It's largely very hard to watch, because it hurts so much. There's this one part where the film's two central figures are stripped naked of their walls and preconceived notions of each other. We're yanked from this otherwise traditional courtroom drama and confronted with artsy camera angles, harsh red lighting, and moving opera music, that are all intrigal to the plot of this moment.

  

   I love this scene, but honestly trying to put my feelings about it into words is hard. Really hard. Because for me, it's very emotional. Andrew Beckett is visibly worn down from his affliction, but this does not stop him from baring his soul to Joe Miller, a stern homophobe. 

   It makes me cry. This is the epitome of heartbreak. We see a person maneuver through their mindset beginning with hate and misunderstanding and completing with love and acceptance; all in approximately 5 minutes, where he says very little, and we're simply reading his eyes: an open and more enlightened man at the end of his life chooses to make change in the world and also in one man, before making the great exit. And a person that is making the final transition knows our biggest secret: We're all in this together, so let's all take care of each other. Love erases everything else.

- Babes

THAT MOMENT : Heavy Metal Horror Movie Edition!

Heavy metal and horror go hand in hand. Their lyrics are very often about Satan worship, death, and evil. The guitar riffs alone send your heart pounding to the edge of oblivion. And if used to accentuate a particularly brutal scene, you can be sent straight to hell. Is there anywhere else that you'd rather be this Halloween season? I think not.

- Babes

7.  The Boys in the Trees - "The Beautiful People" by Marilyn Manson

   This is a quiet little movie that takes place in Halloween in the late 90s in Australia. Music for the film was very important to the auteur who made it. And who was the maestro of metal during that time? None other than "The God of Fuck". Director Nicolas Verso wrote to Manson swooning over his love of his music embodiment and begged him to use this song. What we get is one of the greatest "getting ready for Halloween night" sequences ever.

6. Gremlins 2: The New Batch - "Angel of Death" by Slayer

   The Spider Gremlin is one of the best special effects of all time and Joe Dante knew it. He showcased his creature using this slamming head banger. 

5. Phenomena - "Flash of the Blade" by Iron Maiden

   This film is rock and roll beginning to end, but nothing can trump it's iconic usage of the Maiden. It brings you right to your feet and running for your life right with the character.

4. Night of the Demons - "Stigmata Martyr" by Bauhaus

   I find it appropriate that a demon would become sexual and turned on during a metal song; writhing around, dancing erotically and showing her body. It's hot, dirty, and pure evil. 

3. Demons - "Night Danger" by Pretty Maids

   The only two reason to watch the Demons movies are for the superior gross out effects and killer score/soundtracks. They really have no plot or stories to be told. But you will pump your fist in the air, and watch in horror during a particularly gruesome crowd/mayhem/slaughter scene, as the soundtrack kicks into high gear.  

2. Rocktober Blood - "Im Back" by Sorcery

  Every time we turn on Shudder, since mid September, this movie is playing on the Slashics channel, at the exact rockin' scene. And thus, this has become the song of the season.

1. The Devil's Candy - "By Demons Be Driven" by Pantera

   A movie about a metal obsessed family whose artist father becomes possessed. The demon takes hold of him, and out pours a monstrous creation, all set to this sinister hymn. 

THAT MOMENT : Charlie don't surf

Hot Shots! Part Deux (1993)

Movie comedy is kinda abstract - at least when you hold it up to the traditional setup/punchline formula. When you add the names of Abrahams and/or Zucker, you can disregard that observation; even at their most bizarre they serve humor big & juicy and it looks just like it does in the picture. The minds behind the Holy Franchise Trinity of Airplane!, The Naked Gun, and Hot Shots! utilized every basic and lowbrow language of laughs that ever existed and they did it well. There've been dozens of "Parody" films with similar tones that've been released since their heyday (1980-1994) that couldn't even come close to the correct equation (and resulting in some of the worst Cinema I ever saw).

But we're not here for that - we're here for the most expertly layered lampoon in any of the aforementioned flicks, because it follows the basic formula and then unfolds and blossoms far beyond its initial baffoonery - in way under a minute. The scene begins with Topper Harley (Charlie Sheen) on a fishing boat on a river in Iraq, writing in a journal accompanied by his own voiceover narration. After a few seconds, we hear the voice of Captain Willard (Martin Sheen) begin to bleed into the audio, reciting some of his very same narration from Apocalypse Now. It's a cute and appropriate nod, but then they cut to Martin Sheen, on a different boat, reprising his iconic role from 1979, in costume, reading the Kurtz dossier. And as the two boats approach each other, the two actors rise to their feet and make eye contact, and as they pass each other, they both simultaneously say, "I loved you in Wall Street!" followed by a thumbs-up gesture. 

What started as a cutesy reference to a Classic Film (with an ironic familial connection) quickly escalated into what is probably my favorite movie cameo of all time, followed by the most perfectly written and executed punchline in all of "these kinds of movies." The entire film is exceptional (I prefer it over the first), but that moment is funnier and more clever than anything Brando did on the Nùng River.

- Paul

THAT MOMENT : The rape of the natural world

Jurassic Park (1993)

The T-Rex attack on the Jeep doesn't occur until 70 minutes into the movie. I mention this because it's arguably the most memorable scene in the film, one of the most memorable in the director's career, hence one of the most memorable in Cinema. But in the structure of the story, it's the first real set piece - and yet I'm never in a race to get there.

There's nothing artsy or innovative about utilizing the first act for exposition and character development, but the irony is that critics largely dismissed the entire feature as a vehicle for special effects without any real heart or substance. Time has devalued their initial reaction and validated what the rest of us already knew: that it was as much about memorable characters and dialogue as it was about dinosaurs - maybe more so.

I used to not really like the lunch scene - at least I thought I didn't. It's only about 4 minutes long, but by this point we'd already seen the towering brachiosauruses and the ominous baby raptors and I was ready for the monster momentum to pick up considerably. But over time and after countless video and HBO viewings, I began to realize that it was the scene I thought of whenever I thought of the movie. I once read something like, "Michael Crichton stories are about smart people trying to convince other smart people to take a risk." That's amusing because it's true, but it threatens plenty of expository dialogue scenes - and this is a big one. But it's written and acted with such a casual finesse that it's not painful or superfluous at all - actually it's a joy; it's got that great argument from Jeff Goldblum about the scientists being "so preoccupied with whether or not they could..." 

Really though, what predictably makes the scene great is Spielberg. This thing with the projectors shining over the actors' shoulders in this structureless black void is artfully sinister, but it's also the visual signpost that I'd nominate to slap on a plastic lunchbox. Dean Cundey certainly deserves some credit for this fancy lightshow, but there's a not-too-subtle subtext in the images being projected all around the room - depicting various charts and graphs estimating different kinds of growth in the future of the park, all while the protagonists are asserting how uncertain its future is. Joke's on them of course - these sequels keep finding a goddamn way.

- Paul

THAT MOMENT : Playing w/ Cupcake

On Deadly Ground (1994)

Post-holiday Winter viewing is always a struggle to reckon; grim, weather-appropriate Dramas in celebration of nothing. Sure there are plenty of fun "snow movies," but you've got to be in the mood for fun. So, when I am, despite the grayness of existence, 1994's On Deadly Ground is just about at the top of that very specific list. 

Before I became so methodical and unyielding, it was simply a "sleepover movie": a film watched ritualistically whenever you slept over someone's house when you were a kid. I think that's key because it's best enjoyed with at least one other person - if not a group - and a big reason for that is that it's mercilessly quotable from beginning to end -- but very much one scene in particular. 

Steven Seagal movies (between 1988 and 1998) typically guaranteed you one specific scene. Barring some of the bigger budget plots that pitted him against soldiers/terrorists/mercenaries, at some point in the movie he would go up against some hired goons or local hicks - always in a group, and often in a barroom setting. On Deadly Ground (also directed by Seagal) has him playing an environmentally conscious firefighter named Forrest Taft who embarks on his own brand of highly-trained street justice against an evil oil company in the Alaskan wilderness, while simultaneously preserving the rights of the Natives. If you're wondering why I bothered telling you all of that, it's because each and every one of these plot points comes into play in a scene roughly 10 minutes into the feature. In a bar. 

A gang of off-duty oil workers begin bullying one of the locals - mostly with clumsy and obvious racial slurs. Soon they become physically violent, and only then does Forrest intervene. It's this scene that appears in most of his films that is typically the best scene, but this one rises to a kinda joyous absurdity that a few of the others don't have. Firstly, this bar of brawlers and onlookers seemed to be recorded mostly with ADR; on top of the Country Music soundtrack and fight foley of breaking glass and bones cracking like uncooked spaghetti, isolated bits of dialogue dominate the audio, like "Don't hurt him, Forrest!" or when Seagal grabs an assailant by his genitals which cues a disembodied voice to exclaim, "My nuts!!" I can never help but imagine people in the sound booth recording these lines. 

Once he takes down a dozen or so of these underlings, he's left with the lead antagonist of this scene, played by the marvelous Mike Starr - best known for Uncle Buck, Ed Wood, and Dumb & Dumber (which are the first three that come to mind - I could've easily said The Natural, GoodFellas, and Miller's Crossing and it still would've sold his talents). Forrest challenges him to "the hand slap game" which was (is?) an aggressively violent middle school game that involves, predictably, the slapping of hands. Forrest's version of the game allows him to beat Mr. Big Balls to a bloody mess with a few swift blows to the face & abdomen. And once the bully is broken and beaten, Forrest calmly asks, "What does it take? ...What does it take to change the essence of a man?" And then Mike Starr, as the character and as an actor, humbles himself before this beastly blowhard and tearfully laments, "I need time...to change..." Pure Cinematic Magic.

- Paul

THAT MOMENT : Christmas Stocking Edition!

Christmas is a complicated time. I have difficulty feeling childhood nostalgia too deeply, because it's thickly coated in so many varicose veins, that my brain gets saggy and old. So the day itself, that nearly every person alive has the most feelings about, I neglect the most. At least for most of my past. They didn't really start to become great and memorable until I met Paul. And a lot of that goodness came from making me revisit old holiday movie favorites, exposing me to ones that I wished I had always known, and then the endless list that we viewed together for the first time. Movies with an underlining message of Noel immediately takes me to that warm and fuzzy annual morning of waking up at dawn with my favorite person. Now it's people. These feelings are good and make me think more about the art itself, and how it can profoundly reach something inside of you that may be laying dormant. These are several instances in this specific genre that always do the trick for me.

- Babes

10. Home Alone 2: Lost in New York

   For some reason, Daniel Stern getting electrocuted until he turns into a skeleton, made me laugh so hard when I was a kid, that I peed my pants for the first time ever. I never even did this as a potty training toddler. As an adult, I am aware of the foolishness of the feature, and the ridiculousness that this scene presents, but goddammit if I don't snicker, and share this anecdote with my husband every single year. 

9. Prancer

   I'm not made of stone. And not everything can be blamed on female hormones. But when that little girl tries to save Santa's reindeer out of extreme personal loss and kinship for the animal, I weep like a baby without a mama. And in this great world founded on love of Claus, his reindeer would spoon a wounded child, to keep her warm from dying of hypothermia. Santa is real, and sends us messages of hope, but only when we really need it the most. After all, we're all doing a lot better than we think we are, and don't really need his gifts at all. 

8. Bad Santa

   When I saw this in the theater, I was the only person laughing from beginning to end. And I didn't hide it. I was a regular Max Cady. It was a perfectly harmonious cartoon duo, featuring the over the top demoralized bum, and his super sweet and mentally challenged sidekick. And their first scene together is one of the greatest comedy scenes in cinema. 

7. Scrooged

   As an ultra precocious child, I was always aware of any supernatural elements in cinema. And I found it all very fascinating. Bill Murray beginning to experience his gift from Jacob Marley, is one of the more trippy scenes I had seen. Realities begin to slowly bleed together, causing visual disturbances, that only he can see. As a small child it made me wonder if this was what other dimensions may be like. I still look fondly at the upsetting closeup of John Glover's mouth and think that it may have contributed to my surrealistic approach to art.

6. A Christmas Story

   I never saw this growing up like all of you. It somehow had evaded me my entire life. But I'm glad I'm on the ball now. And I won't ever tire from it the way most of you will. Everyone takes from it what they will. For me? I get hungry. And any year on Christmas Day, whether it's for the worst reason in the world or not, that we get to eat Chinese food, I'm a happy girl. 

5. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

  Fuck Charlie Brown's tiny-ass Christmas shrub. If you're going to go out of your way to bring a goddamn tree into your house, likely for the entirety of a month, then go big or go fuck off. I sympathize with Clark. This should be a tradition followed, and it very damn well should involve your children. Do it yourself. Make it a magical experience. Just parent the shit out of their dressing habits that day, and try not to let their bodies become frozen fish sticks. 

4. Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer

  This has been burned into my skull since I've been alive and I am certain I've done the same for my own child. It just feels like Christmas Eve. Makes you wish the day was here. And now when the elves sing "We are Santa's Elves," I will forever think of my sweet little boy parading it to me with his arms full of the plush stuffed animals. This is family.

3. The Snowman

   I saw this long ago by happenstance, but I'm forever grateful that I did. It shares with you the magic of Santa, and enchants you with its music. You're left in awe, and need a full year to process until the next Christmas, before you can feel again their great journey through the sky.

2. Eyes Wide Shut

   Unless you're a completely vapid person, with no inner feelings, cares, or worries, there is the likelihood that you are experiencing a tremendous amount of things right now in addition to your holiday spirit. Stanley, Nicole, and Tom take you out of the Hallmark holiday dream, and throw you into the nightmare of stripping away the layers. And while the perversions at the mansion may seem farfetched, it's that little bit of possibility that makes you wish that all holiday parties were like that. 

1. It's a Wonderful Life

  You may have a plan for your life, but chaos has other things for you. You can make some choices, which can create lines, but the meteors of existence, turn that more into a squiggle. You can either:

Choose to be pissed about it, live your life in misery, and make things hard for other people.

Be complacent - think only of your next meal, and when the last time you had a bowel movement was.

Or you can accept things just the way they are. Be happy with the imperfectly balanced and subtle differences that the universe threw at you. George Bailey knows the right answer. The secret to all life. And belting it out at the end is a message for all of you too. Perk up your damn ears. 

THAT MOMENT : The Braces Monster

Poltergeist II: The Other Side (1986)

Late one night, having fallen asleep on my Auntie's bed, I was awakened by the loud sound of thunder. My Mom was upstairs with her boyfriend of the day, her sister, the man her sister cheated on my Godfather with (who would eventually become my Uncle), and some kind of brown liquor served in a crystal handled glass. To my relief, the extreme weather noises were only coming from the tv.

   It was 1987 and I was 4, which meant that I had to climb the stairs from the basement bedroom, to cry about the scary darkness, ask for a cup of water, and repeatedly have to go pee. That was my job. But when I got to the top, before I could interrupt, the movie caught my eye. I was entranced by the whimsical Jerry Goldsmith score and the strong family vibe it gave off with the cute lovable kids. I just stood quietly behind the couch and watched it. 

    The only other horror film I had seen up until this point was Evil Dead 2. And even at age 3, I was bored and annoyed at its sophomoric humor. So I had never really seen a horror movie. But I was proud of myself for being able to handle it. I didn't have to cover my eyes. Never screamed once. And even managed to sneak away unnoticed just before the very laughable final scene. I lied in bed thinking about what I just saw and how awesome it was. It wasn't scary at all. Monsters were just as awesome as I had built them up to be in my mind. Maybe I could even be their friends? I drifted off.

  My unconscious had a very different plan for me. You know the part in the movie where the little boy is cleaning his braces, and then mystically those braces animate? You know, they take over and cover his body and then baracade him to the ceiling only revealing terrified tiny child eyes? Well that metal/human blob was a monster in my nightmare. And then the monster survived my nightmare and moved into both my bedroom closet and under my bed. It would slither across my room creating a kind of oozy metallic scratching, that I'm pretty sure began my nightly teeth grinding. One night I was sure this thing was on top of my body, but screaming for my Mom miraculously made it retreat. 

   I can't watch this movie without feeling palpable nostalgia. I can even remember those first dreams. It is the foundation for my love of horror and for being scared. And every once in a while, The Braces Monster will come back and haunt one of my dreams. Only now I'm not afraid. I just want to be his friend.

- Jess

THAT MOMENT : The dissection of Deputy Nick

Bone Tomahawk (2015)

To ask "What is scary?" is like asking "What is funny?" Not only can you not point to one definable thing, but you can't even define the emotion itself. A jump-scare can be a real shot in the arm, while spooky vibes can be a dull ache that lasts for weeks. And then, of course, there are those moments that leave scars. 

Let's do this.

For about... let's say 30 years, I was on an artistic quest to expose my eyes & brain to the most vile, grotesque, upsetting images that Cinema had to offer. (This is a craving I won't bother exploring because most of you already understand it in your own intellectual terms.) Once I conquered the initial hurtle of most mainstream Horror, I heightened my awareness of language like "Extreme," "Unrated," "Banned in 80 countries," and other selling points aimed directly at kids like me. And it took me a few decades to finally stomach the terrible truth: that while most of these movies may've succeeded in upsetting me for whatever period of time, a lot of 'em weren't particularly good - or they simply didn't have the stamina to work their way into my 'rewatch' rotation. Every movie has its flaws, but what I think it boiled down to was that the majority of these abusive 'nasties' were mostly empty of fun; not that everything has to be particularly thrilling, or funny even, but if a movie has one or two notorious moments to hang its jacket on, that is, for me, not enough to sustain a love affair; To avoid fainting, just keep repeating, "It's only a coat rack..." 

And in those instances, once you've seen the 'horrific acts,' the inital shock tends to fade -- and then so does the movie.

Bone Tomahawk, on the other hand, is a miracle of Art & Science; it is thrilling, and it is funny, and it does feature an act so horrific that it compromises all of its other 'rewatchability' criteria.

That's right folks: I'd seen the movie once, and I was too afraid to watch it a second time. And I can say without hesitation that that is the only instance in my lifetime when that is what kept me from seeing a movie - let alone revisiting one. Conversely, in the past, the promise of such a cathartic roller coaster would have been like a magnet, and I would be steel - but I truly think that's the difference between this film and the ones I'd seen up to that point: it succeeds not only under the heading of "Great Horror," but also as "Extreme Horror"; it's a movie I'd watch all the time, but I can't stomach it.

So maybe we should talk about it.

I have a morbid, apprehensive fascination with cannibals - a phobic interest that I'm not gonna waste time examining. But I will say that, though it's a Horror subgenre that I've clung to, roughly none of the movies I'd seen had ever really explored the properties of its chilling yuckiness in a way that lined up with what I'd always felt in my heart and my bowels. None - until Bone Tomahawk. 

If you've seen it, you know what I'm talking about, and if you haven't seen it, you must've at least read about it, as it depicts one of the most powerful scenes of shock and gore ever put on screen. It caused me to break into a cold sweat that I wasn't prepared for. Robert Englund has called it "the scariest movie of all time." It's that level of stomach-churning intensity that makes it as upsetting as it does exhilarating. 

I don't wanna undermine the A+ performances from the A-list actors, or the traditional-but-enjoyable search-and-rescue Western premise - because it's these elements that contribute to the sting of the left hook that the movie throws at you in the final act. 

So what is That Moment that I'm talking about? Well, like I said, if you know the movie, you know the moment - and I'd love it if we could leave it there, because if it hasn't already become apparent, I've been putting it off even in the context of this write-up. That's how deep the cuts are. But I will say that finally, finally, after nearly 5 years, I've watched the film a second time - specifically for the purposes of discussing it for Spooky Pussy - and I gotta say that the top-notch enjoyability of the movie is only very slightly overshadowed by the severity of... that moment.

And that moment is this: the town's deputy has been kidnapped by cannibalistic cave dwellers, and without warning, they drag him out of the cage in which they'd imprisoned him, strip him of his clothing, and thoroughly scalp him. They then force his bloody scalp into his screaming mouth, further advancing it into his throat with the aid of a wooden stake. Next, they hold him upside down by his feet and proceed to wield the dreaded bone tomahawk by chopping him down the middle - from crotch to gut - while simultaneously pulling his legs wider apart like a wishbone, until the entirety of his innards spill onto the ground. The mute monsters don't make a sound during this process, and there's no film score -- just the sounds of screaming, tearing, and organs hitting the floor.

It's a tough scene. And despite its provocative nature, it's successful because it's not gratuitous. The film is a "slow burn" (which is the phrase you can read in every review that's been written about it), and the story periodically reminds us that something uncommonly terrible is awaiting us. And so, the movie actively earns whatever gruesome event you could imagine - except you couldn't have imagined this.

And I earned it too - after years and years of watching native savages castrating foreign devils and eating their eyeballs, I've now finally found something with the serious tone and existential horror that I'd always thought the subgenre deserves.

- Paul

THAT MOMENT : Probable, not certain

The Exorcist (1973)

 

As a fan (and I'm sure there are a few others), it would be a delight to go on & on about this movie - not just to gush, but to analyze, debate, reminisce, critique -- as this film demands a viewer to do. And while I typically consider it a hindrance to only talk about one scene, in this case it actually works to my advantage.

 

Allow me to continue... I first saw the movie on TV - with commercial interruption and edited for content (though the edits were mercifully sparse) - when I was 9 years old. Now, I needn't describe all the scary scenes from the scariest movie of all time that scared me -- but it scared me. And it was noticeable to me even then (probably because it's not that hard to miss) that the explicitly "scary parts" were so scary, that the quieter, dialogue-driven scenes were so heavy with an unbearable tension and anticipation for the next gratuitous outburst that they became the scary scenes. The movie is relentless in that way; and that's its genius: pacing.

Which brings us to That Moment - between Chris (Ellen Burstyn) and Kinderman (Lee J. Cobb) - which falls a little past the halfway mark of the movie. I was always aware of its pertinence - particularly because it's their only real scene together - but for years (decades, actually) I always thought of it as the weak point of the film. And the only reason I thought this was because I was predictably being too technical; I stubbornly insisted that the scene was structurally out of place, and that it arrived right at a moment when we didn't want a bunch of exposition, and that we were ready to move onto bigger stuff. But the funny thing that happened was that I'd focused so much of my attention on this part for so long that I began to think of it often and accidentally ended up knowing it by heart. And so, what I've determined just within the past few years, is that it's my favorite scene in the picture.

One of my biggest turn-ons is when a movie manages to finesse an expository moment into something that not only feels natural, but engrossing. Perhaps I was not perceptive enough to notice that not only does this scene accomplish that, but possibly does it better than any other scene in any other movie ever. The rhythms and language Kinderman uses to more-or-less break the news to Chris that her own daughter most likely killed Burke Dennings is so hauntingly casual that it seems insensitive -- because you know he's right! And he discloses just enough details to place you at the scene, so you can kind of imagine what bizarre, terrifying altercation transpired that night. 

But that's still not the best part - it just sets us up for it. For the remainder of the scene, Chris not only has to confront the reality of these terrible truths, but she must also mask her reactions to them. And for all of Kinderman's skillful sleuthing, he appears to be none the wiser - so little so that, before he leaves, he sheepishly asks for Chris's autograph, and can't help but enthuse over a film of hers that he admires. And really, it's That Moment that defines the scene; two magnificent performances, each with their own agenda, drawing from different emotions while simultaneously trying to hide these emotions. And really it's only for these few seconds are we able to forget the tragic nightmare upstairs - which was quite the artful trick, as the scene that immediately follows is one of the most shocking and intense events in the history of Cinema.

- Paul

 

THAT MOMENT : This watch

Pulp Fiction (1994)

When we posted our Warp Zone questionnaire a while back, I asserted that my favorite Christopher Walken role was from 1994's Pulp Fiction. This choice was made with no amount of casual abandon, but I sure did quadruple-check my mental Rolodex, and this - this approximately 5-minute scene - was the summit of 100+ screen performances.
Lemme explain...

First of all, the scene itself is a special kinda magic that's tough to put into words; up until this point, the movie had been more-or-less pretty linear (or at least seemed that way), but then this scene lurks in with a sense of "when & where the hell are we?" It's blissfully disorienting, because the biggest culture shock comes from the abrasive change in pace; leading up to this moment, there'd been enough story, suspense, laughs, twists, and crazy characters to fill five whole films. And now here we were: sitting quietly on the parlor floor, listening to storytime. That is the virtue of this movie: every 5 minutes you can point to the screen and say, "There! There's why this movie's so goddamn good!" We all know the story and the function and the weight of the scene and what it means in regards to all that follows -- and content-wise, it's not truly original; it's an expository device the likes of which you'll find in most storytelling. But seriously - never this good. Nobody wants a movie to explain itself to them, but with this amount of finesse and restraint, it could've been a whole movie unto itself - and a lotta that credit goes to Chris Walken.

The scene's punchline is so bizarre and original (and funny) that, for most people, it overshadows the beauty and richness of the journey leading up to it. It's an exhilarating showcase of collaboration between actor, cinematographer, and writer/director. If you've read the shooting script, you know that Chris never deviates from exactly what's written - which is amazing that all those particular beats and inflections and other Walken-isms are right there on the page.

But then there's that moment - the moment within this moment - that I love. Following the detailed accounts of Butch's great grandfather, then grandfather, Captain Koons arrives at the moment in the story when Butch's father inherits the watch. "This watch..." And we cut to a closeup of Walken, holding up the watch with more emphasis this time. And everything - the story, the movie - just stops. There's no Jules or Vincent or Mrs. Mia Wallace or briefcases or Twist contests - this pregnant pause punctuates the starting gun that sets us on an entirely new path, thus establishing what will eventually become the larger structure of the whole movie. The disorientation melts away as we realize that this story is consistently going to stay ahead of us every step of the way, and it's done with such prowess that even the most impatient audience members are glad to go along for the ride.

- Paul

THAT MOMENT : Now that's what I call a book report

Three O'Clock High (1987)

I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass, and I have an excessive amount of bubblegum. In other words, I'm thrilled to talk about my favorite scene in one of my favorite movies, but in broader terms, I'm even more excited about the chance to talk about Three O'Clock High - a film that has the honor of being on my Top 100, though we've rarely discussed it here.

This movie has been a part of my life since it made its way to video (probably at some point in 1988), and there's a lot I could say -- though I'll hold back a bit to stick with the structure of this series.

A lotta folks could draw a straight line between this and, say, a John Hughes movie - except that Hughes was rarely this good when it came to realism, surrealism, conflict, and maybe even comedy. Stylistically (and sometimes tonally), it shares the same side of the bed as After Hours, Shaun of the Dead, early P.T. Anderson, and Sergio Leone. It's a comedy, sure, but most of the laughs derive from a kinda giddy tension; it's nervous laughter.

So the only way to set the scene is to set the entire scene: the new kid at school - a hulking sociopath with a rumored history of aggravated assault - has challenged fellow student Jerry Mitchell to a fight at the end of the school day. The premise that ensues is one disastrously failed attempt after another for Jerry to find a way out of this before the 3:00 bell rings. And for my money, the boldest and funniest scheme involves Jerry seeking a sort of protective custody by setting out to earn himself a detention. The otherwise meek and noble Jerry proceeds to sabotage his own oral book report by presenting a belligerent attitude and detailing the racy nuances of his literary choice, "Honey Goes to Hollywood." The way this backfires is a common gimmick in fiction, and it's one of my favorites: when someone tries to do bad, and they incidentally end up doing good. Jerry convincingly sells his Beat-inpsired soliloquy to his captivated classmates, but much more notably, he ignites what can best be described as a sexual awakening in his teacher, who more or less gives herself to Jerry in front of the stunned students. Even Jerry is fooled by his own performance, and accepts his teacher's advances with a cool and calm that he otherwise did not possess. Then, he faints.

So there, I've described the scene, as I usually do. But one thing I rarely do is assert the obvious: this scene (like most) really works best when you see it. Of course, the whole sequence is all over YouTube, but what kinda monstrous philistine would watch a scene out of context - especially if you've never seen it. Put differently, I don't recommend that route. But I do recommend the movie - especially if you've never seen it -- or even if you have! This is the time of year for Teen Comedies (though it's more of the same caliber as Ghost World or even The Graduate), and if you're anything like me (I know I am), this movie ages better and better with continually fresh eyes. Take a look at it, and take note of the compositions, the sound design, and particularly the editing. I mean, I could describe why these are the film's strengths, but the whole point of movies is that you watch them.

- Paul

THAT MOMENT : It's Christmas all of the McWorld

Santa Claus, The Movie (1985)

The Holidays are a time for magic; we have the freedom to be as joyful and merry as we please, and if we suspend our disbelief, we can lose ourselves in the power of the fantastical: an understanding and unity between all living things, a mythical figure who rewards children for being kind, reindeer flying around the world, and McDonald's as a setting where friends and families could gather to celebrate life.

The first act of Santa Claus, The Movie is a spiritual depiction of the inauguration of The Man Who Would Be Claus, immediately followed by conflict in a contemporary (1985) setting. Young Joe is a Dickensian street urchin, cold & hungry in New York City. After it's established that he would never resort to stealing to make his way, he peers through the fogged windows of a now-antiquated McDonald's, witnessing smiling faces and styrofoam containers and shoestring fries - all ensconced in a warm, Norman Rockwell fantasy, complimented by Sheena Easton's "It's Christmas (All Over the World)."
Apart from the heartbreaking subject matter (or maybe in addition to it even), this depiction of the once-leading fast food joint as a symbol of prosperity, community, and fine dining(?) isn't (or wasn't) completely off base. At the very least, at the time, it was certainly a Mecca of recreation and affordability - which, at its mind, body, and soul, is the American Dream. That's what Joe sees & it's what we see, and even if there's some combination of 80s McD's vibrations, the Holiday Spirit, and my own nostalgia linked to how stuff was when it was, it doesn't make it any less accurate or powerful.

I've only been made aware in the past few years that there was, indeed, a Happy Meal tie-in to the movie upon its release -- which very much makes sense given the glowing glamour shots the movie sells us. But to reiterate, it's not wrong at all. In fact, its authenticity (the lighting, the blocking, the performances from the extras) makes me question whether or not this 'product placement' was professionally placed.

Fuck Mac & Me.
And Merry Christmas!

- Paul