everyone loves a list

Decades are weird, man. 

I remember sitting in front of my little 12inch TV in my bedroom in Gloucester, MA when 1989 turned into 1990.  These were dark days.  I was in catholic school at the time, so I was miserable.  Bullied and fat.

When I wasn't playing Goonies 2 ad nauseam on my NES, this was the period in which I finally saw The Exorcist and I was absolutely terrified that I was going to be possessed.   How fun!  Now I don't feel anything.

Time speeds up the older we get.
When I started this blog in '09, I didn't think I'd still be alive in '19, let alone that I would have established a stupid precedent by making a "best of" list for a decade when all art is subjective and anything that moves you is already the best.

That said, who am I to buck with tradition?

This has been a transitional decade in horror because we're living through a transitional moment in history.  From the It Follows to Midsommar, independent horror became the commercial aesthetic.  There were great things in flop movies (I like the boyfriend makeup in Warm Bodies) and there were movies that changed the world (Get Out).

From World War Z to Us, looking back on the past decade in film, the moments that stuck with me were the ones where I had significant experiences seeing them theatrically.  Each of the films below stand out as crystalline memories - these are movies that made me excited about movies.

5.

Black Swan (2010)

When I was little, I wanted to be a ballet dancer more than anything in the world but momma wouldn't let me take class because it was "faggy" (I grew up in Boston).  Never one to take "no" for an answer, I'd follow my neighbor's little sister to her ballet classes and I'd sit in the hallway outside and watch the other kids perform while I drank grape juice and fantasized about my life as a tall and genetically-fit ballet star with a Manhattan loft, a sensible eating disorder, and fastidious boyfriend who wasn't in the arts, but was a patron of the arts.

My obsession with ballet followed me when I went off to do musicals.  By high school, I had a couple jobs and I'd use that money to take dance classes (in spite of my mother) until I finally got gay-bashed and shoved on the train tracks after class one night.  Turns out Mom wasn't the only one who thought dancing was "faggy."

Anyway,  this is what came flooding back to me when I watched Black Swan.
I remember seeing this at the Landmark and being so gutted by the end that I actually couldn't move from my seat throughout the credits.  I sat there and cried like a crazy person when the lights came back up.  That had never happened before.

Ballet is like the art world in that movies never get it right and Black Swan is certainly no exception.  But a horror movie version of Center Stage starring Natalie Portman and Hillary Whitney from Beaches wasting a perfectly good strawberry cake?  Masterpiece.


4.

Scream 4 (2011)

3.

Crimson Peak (2015)

"The horror was for love...it makes monsters of us all."

I saw this movie about four months after it came out on a date with a really cute boy at the New Beverly after about two skinny margaritas.  It was magic.

The closest thing we have in modern times to Hammer Horror and the old Universal monster movies, at its best, Crimson Peak mirrors the aesthetic of late 70s/early 80s glow in the dark monster action figures.  In fact, no horror movie in recent memory makes me want action figure play-sets more.
I can think of no higher compliment.

A horror movie where the women have all the power and the men are all fukboiz?  We love to see it!

2.

Hereditary (2018)

"Who's going to take care of me... when you die?"

I grew up with a mom who had borderline personality disorder who later killed herself.
This movie is a documentary.

1.

Prometheus (2012)

God is dead.

Long live God.

you've got to pick up every stitch

Spider-Man taught me that with great power comes great responsibility and, as a boy-crazy slut, it's my responsibility to point you in the direction of queer horror films that can change your life. So, if you're anything like me, there's a manifesto that demands your attention:

Anna Biller's The Love Witch (2016).

My best friend used to date this messy gay who would get drunk all the time and fight people, let's call her Lance.  

Lance was crazy hot though and a true-blue sweetie, so they’re still friends. 

Lance's fatal flaw is that he's absolutely boy crazy, which I respect, but he's also young and gorgeous so he gets away with making a lot of bad choices that normal people could never get away with.  

Lance figures that as long as he has a hot boyfriend, he doesn't need to worry about getting a job or moisturizing – hilarity ensues every time.

One summer Lance started getting all grey in the face and skinny because his boyfriend at the time was a drug-fiend who got mad at Lance for blowing 4 guys at a house party, but they had already moved in together so Lance had to steal the drug-fiend’s car and throw all his stuff out in the street the night before The Woman's March only to get back together with him three hours later before the keynote speaker had even gone on.  

Now I see his ex-boyfriend with boys half his age at King's Road Cafe.

That's what The Love Witch is about.

I’m not about to exonerate myself from this narrative.  Lance isn't the only mess when it comes to finding a happily-ever-after.  When I first moved to LA, I went to my college bestie's house.  He had been settled in LA for a minute and, as a result, this was a fancy party in a fancy house and a man there asked for my number and he had a Mercedes and, having come from Boston and New York, I had never been in a man's car before, so I agreed to go out with him.  He had a house without any roommates or anything and I was sure I was ready to settle down for the rest of my life.   Even though the sex was middling and passive, when he didn't call me every two hours, I lost my mind.  Didn't he know we were meant to be together forever?

Thank Gaia that didn't happen.

Through a series of heartbreaks, I learned to aim higher as I got older.  

At 26, I didn't know then that I hated people who spend money on cars and fancy parties are usually full of people who are compensating for something or another.  

Over time, you have to learn to put yourself first.  No good comes from chasing dick. you’ve got to let dick chase you.  But, then again,  I’m not crazy hot like Lance, bless his heart, so I had lots of time for introspection.  It may take him a while to figure this all out.  I really only got here after a boyfriend stole my TV.  

What were we talking about?   Oh!  The Love Witch.   This is a movie about a witch named Elaine.   Like my friend Lance, she's gorgeous and messy.  

Elaine's done it all and seen some shit.  She's been a grocery store clerk, she’s worked as a burlesque dancer and she escaped a coven of witches, leaving behind a trail of dead-ex boyfriends in every port.  She also eats cake every single day. My kinda lady.  

In her downtime, she finds solace in casting love spells that work all too well.  
Everyone needs a hobby.

Elaine can't get enough love.  I get it.  The planet is warming faster than a toaster strudel.  International governments are collapsing around us.  Organized religion is a scam.  People and pets are literally dying all around us.  It's much easier to focus on something like procuring a boyfriend and getting him to wear cute outfits and vintage frames from that shop in South Pasadena than it is to plan for the impending apocalypse.  I don't even know where you get fresh drinking water.  A stream?  And we're not supposed to use plastic anymore, so what do we put the water in when we get to the stream?  Do we just carry around tupperware bowls?  Please tell me.

Elaine is retro-feminist.  She falls for all the trappings of trapping a man.  It's her fetish.  She wears fancy underwear and layers her lashes, she wakes up early to douche and prepare a four course breakfast so it's waiting for when he gets up.  The gag is, we do these things and it still doesn't make a difference.  You can't make someone like you and, even in the odd instance when you do, it's not smart.

Just ask anyone who's broken up and then got back together with an ex.  It doesn't work.  So much of the chase is about ego - wanting to be right, loved, not left.  If you do the work (aka: take some time for yourself) you'll see you don't need anything from anybody you can't get from yourself.  If Elaine wasn't boy-crazy, she could have channeled that energy into so much.  She could have helped a lot of people - including herself.  

But self-actualization doesn't make a good horror movie, so Elaine makes all the wrong choices and lots of people die.  Good for her.

As you get older, hopefully, you can leave behind the spells cast by old loves.  Take the lessons you learned from relationships and apply them to your day to day encounters in hopes that every year becomes a better version of last year - with or without a man.

Don't stalk boys on social, who cares if they're on vacation in Prague or working at a coffee shop in Seattle.  That isn't gonna help you get a better job or learn how to make vegan kugel.

Life is evolution.  Things do happen for a reason - even a stolen television.  

(But just in case you want a little help along the journey, the House of Intuition here in LA has amazing manifestation candles.)

quick thing

Hi.  I'm in the middle of some business, so pardon my brevity.

If you don't think that this season of American Horror Story was the best,  YOU ARE WRONG.

That is all.  Go about your business.

love and light,

jgm

..beguiled again...

Are we all gagging with anticipation for this new season of America Horror Story?!
I think a theme party might be in order...

wicked little town

"Oh, I don't believe I've had any of this..."

I don't know if you kids like those Harry Potter movies... If you do, then you probably can't stop popping klonopins like tictacs in anticipation of the penultimate installment - therefore, allow me to turn your attention to the lesser known prequel to the Harry Potter known as Elvira: Mistress of the Dark (1988).

Once upon a time, a baby girl was left on a doorstep someplace.  Her parents were killed by an evil dark wizard so she became the queen of late-night horror (in syndication) and she shilled everything from Coors Light to pinball tables. 

Much like Harry Potter, all Elvira ever wanted was to raise fifty-thousand dollars so she could perform her burlesque spectacular in Las Vegas.  Along the way, she visits a politically conservative, small town in New England (led by the aptly named Chastity Pariah) to teach everybody (including Ira Heiden from Dream Warriors) about equality, stage makeup, and the fine art of potluck casserole baking.  And, faster than you can shake off a magic wand, Elvira learns a little bit about herself along the way.

What with the suicide rate for gay kids rising and another election upon us, I'm a bit down in the dumps this holiday season.  But rest assured, dolls, there is something to live for. At long last, the queen has risen from the undead. Be sure to check out Elvira's Movie Macabre every Saturday night at midnight (in syndication).  It's a guaranteed standing ovulation!

Halloween is officially upon us.  If you haven't already, put up your spider webs, hang your pumpkin lights and start doing 200 extra crunches per day.  It's time.

you got to have friends!

Maleficio!

"I'm exactly where I want to be and I'm doing fine."

Oh my gosh, y'all.  What a day!

Tonight I was gathering my business from the back seat of my Honda Passport when out popped a pair of white briefs that I had been keeping there in case of an emergency.  Oops. Staring at those underpants lying there helplessly on the grey concrete, all I could think was, "Slut." Then I nearly doubled over - I was having a vision. My tidy whiteys with the turquoise waistband coupled with the sense memory of being called a slut reminded me of the most perfect Faggotyass summer movie - The Witches of Eastwick (1987)!

A full decade before the Sex and the City sluts permeated popular culture, we could readily categorize ourselves according to The Witches of Eastwick.  You were either an Alexandra (brassy and strong-willed), a Jane (prissy and demure, waiting to be unfurled like a summer rose),  or a Sukie (ethereal and perpetually frazzled by care-taking for other people). In gay speak: you were either Cher, Susan Sarandon, or Michelle Pfeiffer.

While these three actresses may have been at the apex of the 1980s Hollywood food chain, the ladies they're playing aren’t quite so glamorous.  They find themselves stuck in small town New England with an overwhelming feeling that life has all but passed them by. Recently divorced Jane is teaching music to unappreciative mongrels, losing her funding and constantly fending off advances from the fat and married board members of the elementary school.  Alexandra is an artist whose sculptures aren't selling; her husband died years ago, so she lives alone with her teenage daughter. Sukie loved a rocker but he left her high and dry to raise their six children by herself, working as a writer for the local paper.  

But, watching this film as an adult, I couldn't help but wonder...

"Why is it always women who have visions?"

These are women who can influence the weather and who have persuasive powers over fruits and vegetables.  They can predict the future and make the earth move. They raise children and maintain mortgages. When their powers combine, they can vanquish enemies without even having to leave their martinis. Are these witches or just women? 

If they possess all this power, then why is their primary concern that of finding a man? Is that a product of the time in which it was made?  Is The Witches of Eastwick a feminist parable or does it suggest that women are only content with a man who treats them like shit? I’ve seen this film dozens of times and still couldn’t tell you.

If you take away any struggle of good versus evil, are these women complex or are they sort of awful? The actresses present us with strong figures, but the movie tells us that they’re using Jack for his power and influence and for the sex.  Even when they've completely drained him of his life force, they still take his house and the servants. Men and the townspeople are only there to serve them.  Much like the Sex and the City girls, their actions have no consequences.  That's not an incredibly feminist perspective.

While Jack Nicholson initially appeals to their intelligence to get them in bed, in the end it's his chauvinism that keeps them there.  Why would three women who are smart and funny - with perfect bodies and great sundresses - ever desire a rotund, balding, narcissistic schlub like Jack Nicholson?  Is it internalized misogyny? Is this something lost in adaptation (adapted by men from a text written by a man)?

Maybe I'm just a messy queen who lives for drama, but I used to love this film.  But why? Why do a lot of gay men of a certain age hold onto this movie? 

I think the answer lies somewhere in the delicate line between homophobia and misogyny.  Both gays and women have to work twice as hard for recognition in a society that is structured around the whims and desires of straight men.  That can take a toll.  Also, strong witches (like the gays) love themselves a pitcher of cocktails and a girls night out.  The gays (like the witches) are known for their permissive, if not European, approach towards sexuality.  Women and gays can both be found running board rooms, paying mortgages and supporting their parents, but still obsessing over finding the perfect man.  In the end, like the witches, friendships are our primary care relationships.  Consequently, gays (like powerful women) seldom seem able to carry on functional, long-term relationships because they see that it's a rigged system built to keep shackles on your own desires in favor of a capitalist notion. 

Plus, The Witches of Eastwick is a Cher movie.

Despite a near perfect script from Michael Cristofer and an even better John Williams score, The Witches of Eastwick is a weird film.  Its behind the scenes stories are legend - the (male) producers pitted the girls against Susan Sarandon from the get-go and it definitely shows on screen.  I've heard Susan agreed to play Alexandra, only to show up to read through and find out that they'd given the part to Cher. I've head Susan spent weeks learning the piano only to show up on set to learn that they'd made her character a cellist.  Halfway through shooting, they made her a redhead. Whichever story is true, her Jane is particularly uneven - especially when paired alongside Cher and Michelle Pfeiffer's naturalistic performances. The film's third act ultimately succumbs to Hollywood bloat (having been re-shot three times) and causes confusion with regard to the films perspective. 

Coherent feminist narrative aside, grab your best can of Aussie Mousse and pop this DVD in for a good time.  Whether you're gay or straight (George Miller directed it. He directed Mad Max.), you're sure to find this movie better than a bowl of fresh cherries on a hot summer day. 

(Keep a lookout for the grumpy supermarket checkout lady throwing shade at Susan Sarandon for being a "slut" - I like to pretend that she's the same grumpy checkout lady who threw supermarket shade at Debra Winger for having insufficient funds in Terms of Endearment.  Supermarket checkout girls are so judgmental.)

at the ballet

Matthew Bourne's The Crucible

After another state had the audacity to decided that the LGBTQ community are third-class citizens, I think we could all use a little Christmas.  In the great tradition of Screen Gems horror films being written purely through exposition, I present you with the following photo essay in honor of Renny Harlin's Steven Strait epic set amongst New England witches who just so happen to be muscled up gay boys who don’t know how to pronounce “Gloucester”  - The Covenant (2006)!

"They're supposedly descendants of the five families that settled the Ipswich colonies in the 1700s."

"I've got to run some errands for my mother."

"What are you looking at, faggot?"

"That thing between your legs.  It's like a penis, only smaller."

"Lucky for you, Chase was there to get you out before you sucked up the pool."

"If what you're saying is true and Hagen Pope is the bastard son of John Putnam, then the fifth bloodline in the Covenant didn't end in Salem."

"It's you that I'm gonna hurt, and you're just my bait to get to Caleb."

"Let's just keep this between the sons of Ipswich."

"You can't imagine what it was like growing up not knowing what this was!"

"How about I make you my wee-atch?"

xoxo