All posts by Cullen M. M. Waters

Internet humorist, Writer of Speculative Fiction, movie reviewer, and all around good guy

[MONTH OF HORROR] Man Made Monster

This wasn’t the intended feature of the day, but I ran out of time. I needed a quickie and at an hour this fit the bill. Besides, I’ve been meaning to see it. I watched it once as a kid and always wanted to watch it again. Kept confusing it with The Indestructible Man.

In a nutshell, this is EVERY FIFITIES SCI FI MOVIE (even though it came out in the forties). A mad scientist gets a hold of a carny who has an immunity to electricity and turns him into a monster. The usual brouhaha ensues. It is marginally better than most due to the acting and the tightness of the plot. Lon Chaney Jr. does his thing here, but he could have been playing any one of a dozen monsters. It’s unusual in that the female lead tries to save the monster instead of being threatened by him.

I liked it, but I have no taste.

My problem is that on finishing it I got the urge to go ON AND ON about it. As I’m supposed to be doing shorts, this might be a problem. I’m going to try to write a long form out of it tomorrow (it’s only an hour, how hard can it be?). However this has to be considered a stumble in my goals. How bad of one… remains to be seen.

3/31 done. Let’s hope the number grows tomorrow.

[MONTH OF HORROR] Demons 2

As with yesterday’s offering, a bunch of people trapped in a building chased by demons. I adore this flick something fierce. I also have a long review in the archives that I’m now thinking of scrapping for something NEWER.

Might be interesting.

3/31. I have one more in a sort of series, then I really need to find something not demonic related to watch.

[MONTH OF HORROR] Demons

God, I love this picture.

People are given tickets to see a nameless movie in a brand new theater by a guy who looks like he’s depriving an Opera house of a phantom. This proves to be a mistake, as it’s some sort of plot to unleash Hell on Earth.

I am so not impartial with this one. It’s one of those “Can watch anytime” flicks.

So we are now 2/31 in terms of reviews for the Sister Site. So far so good.

[MONTH OF HORROR] As Above, So Below

I had a crazy thought.

This Month of Horror is an annual thing for me. I don’t always make a whole month, but I try. And with each day I write a review.

Last year, on whim, I started rating the films using the system I use for the Sister Site, Welltun Cares Reviews. It felt pretty good, so I thought I’d do it again this year.

This isn’t crazy.

About four days ago I started making up a list of movies to watch. Why keep that to the last minute? Am I right or am I right? Might keep me from missing days if I had it all planned out ahead of time. Pretty brilliant, I thought.

And as I made the list, I realized I was doing all movies.

Welltun Cares Reviews was all movies. More or less.

Why–and I know this is a bizarre thought–but why not post the reviews on my review site?

Madness, I know.

The initial idea was post them as I finished, like I did here. Then the thunderclap came. Am I nuts? Every other review pops up on Fridays. I’ve been doing this for most the year. Why, therefore, should I post a review every day instead of scheduling them all as a massive buffer?

So that’s the plan. I review one movie a day for 31 days. That should give me thirty one weeks, plus four more weeks from Golden Oldie reviews I’d already set up in case I failed. A hell of a buffer.

Long enough so that I should be able to crank out my preferred longer reviews without fear.

So what does that mean for this site?

I still intend to talk about the films, but in a really, really abbreviated form. I see no point in spoiling my efforts on one site by posting on another.

So. Today’s feature was As Above, So Below, a 2014 flick. Another of my goals, I should add, is to put out more reviews of more current flicks. My opinion of modern Horror has been low, which has kept me from it. And as this film has proven, that’s a mistake.

It’s a good flick. Well written, very little fat. Found footage style, so if you have a beef with that subgenre you might have one here. I don’t care for it myself, but to be honest I’ve had a string of good luck with them so far and this continues the streak.

Last review spoiler: 3.5 points.

[ANNOYING AUTO] Relearning an Old Lesson

As this will be a decent size post as is, I’m not retelling the tale. In short, years back I learned that when the Zombie/Vampire/Alien/Whatever Apocalypse comes, I will not be the Hero that saves everyone. No. Instead, I’ll be among the first to go. Probably still wondering what was going down.

Apparently this one lesson wasn’t enough. Apparently another was needed.

Lucky me.

The Good Girl in Question

Thursday Brother Todd had a nasty surprise while watching the family dog Daisy Mae have fun outside. Namely, he got to find her covered in what he called bees. He brushed her off as quick as possible, then brought her in to safty.

At the time I was outshopping. On returning and hearing the story, a nasty memory popped back up. A couple years back we had a yellow jacket nest in the yard. Stung me on the finger and the back of the neck. I killed them all real good

Now I’m a grown man. When trouble pops up, I should act like. Besides, the sun was going down. The troublemakers would be in the nest asleep.

So I went outside. I went to the bush in front, where Daisy had been sitting, and had a look around.

Nothing.

Okay then. Might as well make the trip worth while. We’d been talking about trimming the bush back. I figured I’d take a bit off, make the trip out worth while.

I hadn’t cut more than a little when the first sting happened. Under the upper part of my right arm.

Alright then. I might want to–

That’s went the second sting happened. Then maybe the third.

There were a lot of stings that day.

Now common sense finally hit. I ran to the house. Felt something buzzing my hair, and all I could think about were all those Horror movies where an idiot character gets himself stung to death. So glad I could be one.

I shut the front door behind me, safe at last. I started to tell Mom and Todd what happened.

Then Todd noticed it.

From about hem to pockets my black pants were covered in yellow jackets.

Todd shouted for me to take my pants off and throw them outside. To my credit, I did the single smart thing I did that day and ignored him. Instead, I ran outside, stripped off my pants, then ran back inside. Where I took a quick shower just in case a few stragglers remained.

So yeah. In my underwear out where the neighborhood could see me.

Surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

Or more often.

So all of this comes with a capper. Those yellow jackets? Weren’t from the nest that got Daisy.

I am blessed with a yard filled with stinging insects.

Anyway, Daisy didn’t seem to be bothered by the experience. If it hurts her, she gave no sign.

Me, I’m under the desk, whimpering as I type this.

I’ve never been stung on the nose before. Wasn’t even on the bucket list.

[THOUGHTS ON STORIES] Who is the Protagonist? (I)

The mechanics of a story is only interesting to writers and critics. As I am both, off and on, I tend to think about such things. Thus the readers of this site can benefit from the ravings of an unsound mind.

I did say I was a writer AND a critic, remember.

While thinking about the matter, I came up with some interesting thoughts on classic Genre films. So in order to process this, I thought I’d write up an essay and set some terms. This might drift over to the Sister Site at some point, as it might be germane to the proceedings. It’s also going to be long, so I’m stretching it out a few days.

Let’s start with the basics. Things most writers and critics can get behind.

First off, most Stories, be it in film, on stage, or in a book, have this thing called a Plot. In the simplest terms, the Plot is Action/Reaction. An Action happens and there is a Reaction to it. It is motion, it is movement.

The Story’s Protagonist is the character whose Actions/Reactions matter the most. It is his (hers, its, whatever’s) who makes the choice or choices that matters most.

In Star Wars: A New Hope, Luke Skywalker is the Protagonist. It’s his decision to help Obi-wan Kenobi that affects every other decision down the length. Everything hinges on that one choice.

In Beast from Twenty Thousand Fathoms, Thomas Nesbitt is the Protagonist. His efforts to warn the world about the Beast, the Rhedosaurus, brings end characters that wouldn’t have been involved otherwise and, in the end, it’s his experience with radiation that solves the final problem. His choices mattered.

Stories that don’t have a Protagonist are possible, but examples don’t leap to mind. Keep in mind it’s not the length of “screen time” that determines who the Protagonist is. It’s the Weight of the Choice that as a rule matters.

I’ll get back to Weight of Choice in a second.

Opposing the protagonist is the Antagonist. This character either Acting (doing something the Protagonist opposes) or Reacting (opposes something the Protagonist wants). With this character, too, the Weight of the Choice defines him (her, it, whatever). The Character whose choices give the Protagonist the most problems is often the Antagonist.

To go backwards, in Beast from Twenty Thousand Fathoms, it is the Rhedosaurus who is the Antagonist. It wants to stomp around the place and eat passing people. Nesbitt opposes this, first by warning people of the existence of the Rhedosaurus, then by confrontation.

In Star Wars: A New Hope, the Antagonist is Grand Moff Tarkin. Oh, yeah, Tarkin. He’s the one calling the shots. He leads the tropes, makes the decision to destroy random planets, and so on and so fort. Darth Vader, as impressive as he is, is but a lackey.

Now the terms Protagonist and Antagonist are not moral terms. While the Protagonist is often a Heroic figure, that is not what defines him. Same is true with the Antagonist. Both of them can be Good People; both of them can be Bad People. It’s really not relevant.

What is relevant is the Weight of Choice. How does the choice affect the Plot? How does the choice affect the one making it? The bigger the change, the more weight it has.

In both my examples, the choices made by the protagonists alter the course of the Plot. They save people, they get people killed, they are harmed by their actions and their actions harm others. If they weren’t in the Story everything would change. It would not be the same story.

To give another example, look at the Mystery TV series Columbo. The title character, Lieutenant Columbo, is not the Protagonist. That would be the murderer of the episode. It is their choices that make the plot run. Were they not there, nothing would happen. Columbo, the Antagonist, is there to stop them. His choices have Weight, but not as much as those he opposes.

Were we to put things in a more moral fashion, we would use terms like Hero and Villain. In fact, I’m going to use them as actual Character Types like Protagonist and Antagonist.

The Hero is the moral force in the story, the one’s whose attitudes the Reader is probably supposed to emulate. He (She, It, Whatever) might not do the right thing all the time, but by and large his actions are what one would consider Moral and Good.

The Villain is the opposite number. He (etc, etc) is in it for himself, his actions are selfish and more often than not Evil.

I’m in a mood. I’m adding a third Character Type: The Unfortunate Soul. Unlike the Protagonist and Antagonist, the Unfortunate Soul has very little agency. While they can act, they need help. They can’t do it on their own. Their choices have the least Weight of them all.

To give examples, let’s look at the detective series involving Sherlock Holmes.

Holmes is the series Protagonist. His decisions shape the course of the plot. His clients are Unfortunate Souls who can’t resolve their own dilemmas. For them Holmes risks all, whether just his reputation as a detective or, on occasion, his very life.

The people Holmes goes after are, more often than not, are Villains. They want something they shouldn’t have. You could argue that Holmes’ opposition to them makes them Antagonists, too. However not only they don’t often have the same Weight of Choice your common Antagonists have, they don’t often have conflict with the Protagonist beyond a basic level.

For instance, the killer in The Hound of the Baskervilles actively tries to get around Holmes to accomplish one more murder. With A Scandal in Bohemia, Holmes is pitted against Irene Adler in acquiring certain pictures; it is a definite struggle between two wills. The Final Problem and its sequel, The Adventure of the Empty House have the main threat be killers after Holmes. Each present conflict for Holmes and are in fact Antagonist.

Oh, and Doctor Watson? He’s the Hero, not Holmes, despite the detective’s virtuous efforts. He tends to be the moral center of Holmes’ world.

Simple. There are always going to be exceptions to the rule for these terms, and with the possible exception of the Protagonist not all are needed for a Story. That’s the nature of the beast.

Next time, we’ll look at more individual stories and see who is the protagonist and who is not.

[SILLY STUFF] Some Get Freddy Kruger, I Get…

I never met comedian Don Rickles in my life, but I did have a dream about him once. And, as I have nothing better to write about, I intend to tell you about it.

For the hopefully depraved, I’m sorry. This is was a G rated dream. Though I have always felt like I owed Mr. Rickles an apology.

Why will become apparent in due course.

The dream begins in the middle of the Arizona desert. I’m at a gas station, pumping gas into a hulking Seventies car. What I’m doing there, I don’t know. Maybe I’m on a trip, it’s not important.

I’ve almost finished when this other hulking Seventies car pulls up to the same pump. Out pops Don Rickles. This, I should say, isn’t Old Rickles. This is Rickles in the prime of his life. Dressed for success. He might be heading to the Jonny Carson show. He wasn’t, but that only becomes important later.

The instant I see Rickles, I start insulting him. Nothing mean, just joking around, like he was famous for in his act. Sort of showing my stuff. Young punk sort of thing, right?

What I said escapes me now, but it doesn’t go over as well as I like. Rickles gets this insulted look on his face, and I suddenly realize this is how everyone who meets him reacts. Like they’re as good as he was at this.

Now I’m embarrassed. I want to make it up to him. I offer to buy the man lunch. It doesn’t take much. Maybe Rickles was hungry.

We head inside, and, remember, this is the middle of the desert. As far as you can get from civilization. And yet there’s a line there from counter to door. I take a place at the end and suggest to Rickles he go up front, check out the menu, see what he wants. Which he does.

Nothing untowards. Nothing sketchy. I, in good faith, was doing the right thing.

Thing is, we do not dream continuously. Every so often the mind moves from one subject to the next. It is the way of the subconsious.

So the next thing I know, I’m in a school gymnasium filled with people. I’m sitting on a rickety folding chair in the middle of everything. I know no one there save my Mother, who sits to my right.

Up in front, performing, is a ventriloquist with a dragon puppet. The man is dying. He and his puppet go through their routine and no one laughs. The heart breaks to see it. If I remembered his name I wouldn’t tell it to you, just out of pity for the guy. Though that was probably the best part of his act.

The ventriloquist is about halfway through his act (God help him if he wasn’t, he was so bad) when a man in a suit comes walking in front of the audience. He might be the principal of the school, I dunno. Whoever he is, he’s the savior of the night, as he whispers a few in the ventriloquist’s ear. With a great deal of relief, alleged performer and puppet leave for parts unknown.

The audience doesn’t cheer. It just feels like they should.

The man in the suit steps in front of the microphone and says, “Let’s all give thanks to,” insert name here, “for entertaining us while we waited. Now, thankfully, our real guest has finally arrived. Let’s give a big, warm welcome to Mr. Don Rickles!“

From the back of the gym comes Rickles. Same suit he had on before, bright smile on his face, the perfect entertainer.

He trots to the front and shakes hands with the man in the suit, most thankful to be invited. While the man makes tracks to one side, Rickles takes the microphone and surveys the audience.

All at once I know, I know, that the smile on Rickles’s face is false. He’s furious. He really wanted that sandwich, and he thinks that punk kid at the station welched on him.

Worse, he knows I’m here. Absolutely certain. And in a few moments he’s going to spot me and tear into me like he’s never torn into anyone before.

Right in front of my mom.

So I’m sinking in my seat, hoping my movement doesn’t draw his attention, hoping that I can get on the floor, on my belly, knowing that it’s too late, no matter what I do, I’m getting publicly humiliated.

Which is where I woke from the dream. Thankfully.

Like I said at the start, though, I always felt like I owed Rickles an apology. Never managed to give him one while he was alive, and since he’s passed on it’s probably too late to try. Which also makes me feel a little guilty.

Honestly, though, I don’t know why. Sure, I never fulfilled my promise and bought him lunch. But when you think about it, I’m the real victim here.

I mean, I could have dreamed of anyone. The most gorgeous woman in the world, say. Someone who’d have made Helen of Troy look like Medusa.

And who’d I get? Don Rickles.