The Tardy Ghost
We took a bit of a break here at N.A.H.Q. and did most verily stretch our legs and freshen our loins. I should apologise, as the title of this post was destined to be ‘Retrospectre’ and yet I have already played upon those funny bones in recent, very much living memory. In a dark, dark house things also happened and some of those things may be available for your feasting very soon, up to and including hors d’oeuvres of the live musical video variety. These things come courtesy of the very talented Mr Galo, direct from the Cthulhu-riddled depths of London’s own Resident Studios and he has deigned to satiate you with the following images.
Somehow, there appeared on the desk of my horrific little shop a signed copy of ’The Complete Night Of The Living Dead Filmbook’ (Imagine, Inc, 1985) by John Russo, co-author of that movie. It is part of a most horrific heap of things that accrued over the past few weeks as we weathered that most totally hallowed of eves. This year there was a movie about hockey masks and a TV series about teenage occult practitioners and so I did my level best to get into the spirit of the whole thing and this seemed as ghoulish a place as any to start.
As films go, ‘Night Of The Living Dead’ is cult in the same way that Ultraman is Airwolf and you’ll rarely see a more devoted, informed fan base than those of George A. Romero’s 1968 pedestal piece of honest, brutal and uncomplicated horror. From a preface written by the director himself, we’re taken through everything from writing, finance, shooting and production to post and what came after for the makers and fans. It’s wonderfully put together and a great read for film and horror buffs alike. Now, I just have to lock the doors, board the windows and figure out how it got here in the first place.
Segueing spookily into a moving picture of the more contemporary variety, Mr. Cage’s new talkie is already on Amazonian Plime (for reasons I care nor dare to fathom) and is, as promised absolutely mad. If you didn’t get a chance to catch ‘Mandy’ over the ghastly season at one of a very select number of cinematic venues, now is your chance. It is also a chance that can be yours for less than the price of a bad time and that time will nay be wasted. Should you wish to do so, all can be accomplished from the comfort of a gruesome, suitably high-backed fireplace armchair, without ever even leaving your tumble-down manor. Panos Cosmatos is a fitting name for someone at the helm of such an acid-fuelled masterpiece, not without its fair share of blood and Johan Jóhannsson’s score is metal as fuck. It’s a revenge movie, yes but it’s also completely obsessed with the cosmos and cults and all that good, mushroom fare. Nic Cage is also Nic Cage and that should be reason enough.
Predictably, I broke my vow not to do the whole undead bash thing this year. The beard and compulsory hat make it difficult to turn down, especially when one has the option of being both a werewolf and cowboy at any given moment. I came prepared with the above and dancing of a dubious and most likely photographed nature ensued. In the same way that it has always been illegal to not do the time warp again, the unquiet spectres of Bobby (Boris) Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers have phantasmic licence to haunt each and every waking moment of any reticent body not partaking in the ‘Monster Mash’, particularly if it is the party mix.
JD - TACOCAT
[Props to IMDB for the thumbnail image.]