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Jason Norton

The Mule: It’s Never Too Late

March 31, 2019 by Jason Norton Leave a Comment


The sad reality is that every new Clint Eastwood film could be his last. After more than six decades on the Silver Screen, Eastwood—now eighty-eight—is fighting the one opponent he can’t beat—Father Time. There’s an obvious hitch in his step, a veritable roadmap of years and miles on his face. The gritty growl of Josie Wales and Dirty Harry has been replaced by the grandfatherly timbre of a genuinely remorseful Gus Lobel. But the charisma is still there, the charm as youthful as ever. And sometimes it’s tough to tell where the actor stops and the character begins. Such is the case with his latest effort, The Mule, where Eastwood seems like he was born (albeit nearly a century ago) to play his role.

Once again helming the director’s chair, Eastwood stars as Earl Stone—a personification of real-life Detroit World War II vet Leo Sharpe, who began running drugs for a major Mexican cartel at the ripe old age of 87. Sharpe’s story as the world’s oldest living drug “mule” was first chronicled in the New York Times Magazine back in 2014.

In the film, Earl (like the real-life Sharpe), is an aging horticulturalist in the twilight of a long and storied career. He’s spent years on the road, a bio-engineering rockstar who revels in the accolades of his colleagues and the trappings that come with each new city and each new seminar. He’s worked hard, but played hard, down on his financial luck thanks to burgeoning e-commerce that’s taken him from the only game in town to just another green thumb. Now he’s ostracized by a daughter who wants nothing to do with him and an ex-wife who never lets him forget how his family played second fiddle to his precious plants. The only relative who seems interested in reconciling is his granddaughter. After a thorough berating from the rest of his family during her engagement party, Earl is offered an opportunity to earn a quick buck—that will soon bloom into the most lucrative, most dangerous experiment of his life.

Earl returns to his truck to find more money than he can count waiting in his glovebox.

After spying Earl’s ancient, bumper-sticker-covered pick-up, a random party guest strikes up a conversation. When he learns that Earl’s never had a ticket after seventy years behind the wheel, he hands him a business card, promising easy money for merely driving. Earl takes the bait, arriving at a sketchy garage manned by a surly bunch of gun-toting heavies. They place a duffel bag in the bed of his truck, ordering him not to look inside. Then they give him a cell phone he’s to answer, whenever it should ring. Lastly, they order him to drive to a hotel a few states away, park, and leave his truck for an hour. When he returns, he finds an envelope full of cash in the glove box. A mysterious contact praises Earl’s job well done and recommends that he make another run for his employers. Earl initially declines, but once he sees the payout, he takes the offer. Three runs in, he discovers the true nature of his cargo: cocaine.

Earl has to think fast when he runs into a curious deputy out on the highway.

Earl knows he’s in deep with some bad dudes, but he never goes to the authorities or tries to bust up the ring, perhaps realizing he’s too small of a cog in a vast, dangerous machine. Instead, in a slanted-Messianic twist, he begins associating with the sinners, changing them, little by little thanks to his larger-than-life charisma. He doesn’t exactly convert them, but at least earns their respect and whittles their harder edges. And he uses the money he earns for good, footing the bill for the open bar at his granddaughter’s wedding and bankrolling renovations at his local VFW Hall.

Not all of Earl's new business associates cotton to his meandering runs to deliver their product.

His delivery routes turn into road trips, nostalgic reminders of his beloved cross-country career. It’s here that the slightly racist, slightly homophobic Earl himself is changed, offering his help to folks he’d usually avoid. It’s far from a Damascus-Road conversion, but at least it’s ninety-year-old baby steps in the right direction. The scenery and soundtrack shine in these sequences, putting the viewer right in the passenger seat alongside Earl. And it’s during these bits that we—like Earl—often forget the full gravity of Earl’s situation.

His increasing hauls attracts the attention of DEA Agents Bates (Bradley Cooper) and Trevino (the too-often underrated Michael Pena), though they have no idea they’re looking for an octogenarian offender. The few onscreen moments between Eastwood and Cooper are as smooth as if the two were actually chatting over coffee in a Waffle House—which they…well, you get the picture.

After his new job begins, Earl gets a new lease on life, doing his best to reconcile with his ex-wife and his daughter.

In the meantime, Earl earns forgiveness if not redemption. It’s a hopeful message that echoes the promise that there is still grace abundant for the truly repentant, regardless of how long they wait to accept it. But (as is often the case in the real world) we’re left wondering how different Earl’s life could’ve been if he’d have only sought reconciliation earlier.

The film ends as abruptly as Earl’s odyssey began, devoid of any ride-off-into-the-sunset credits. Surprisingly, the entire film feels a little understated, as if a big emotional or dramatic climax is always waiting, but never fulfilled. But therein lies the beauty of The Mule. Much like Earl, there’s not a lot of flash and complexity; what you see is what you get. There are moments that could’ve been embellished with heavier dialogue or internal conflict. Instead, we’re left with what feels to be a genuine narrative; a feasible matter-of-fact storyline. It’s an outside-looking-in perspective on Earl’s authentic, awkward right and wrong turns. It’s an unconventional ride, but the drama is in the journey.

Let’s hope there’s still a few miles left on the old truck.

On Warner Bros.’ Blu-ray combo pack, there’s Toby Keith’s “Don’t Let the Old Man In” music video, as well as the making of featurette that focuses in on Eastwood’s return to film as both actor and director.

Filed Under: DVD, Film, Reviews

The Devout – Life (or Lives) As Art

January 22, 2018 by Jason Norton Leave a Comment

Kids say the darnedest things.

Blurting out inappropriate potty humor at the dinner table. Sharing Mommy’s not-so-flattering nickname for Daddy during the children’s sermon. Recounting the violent end to their past life.

At least most of us can identify with the first two scenarios.

But in The Devout, parents Darryl and Jan Eckford (Charlie Carrick and Ali Liebert) get nailed right between the eyes with option three when their terminally ill daughter, Abigail (Olivia Martin), begins dropping clues that she may have lived once before.

Abi's crocheted rocket may be the tip of a very large, very mysterious iceberg.

Faithful Christians Darryl and Jan are near the end of their rope as four-year-old Abi nears the end of her short life. Infatuated with rockets and outer space, Abi still manages to put on a happy face, even on her bad days.

Each day, Abi's parents grant her one special wish. Some days, the family dog ends up at the dinner table, some days, Darryl ends up in a tiara.

But the ordeal of losing their daughter weighs heavily on the young parents. Darryl and Jan struggle to maintain a loving relationship while staying strong for Abi.

One night, as Abi is about to fall asleep, she tells Darryl that she believes she’s had an accident in the bed. He checks her, but finds nothing amiss. She chalks it up to soiling her “MAG,” which makes no sense to Darryl. After an internet search the following morning, Darryl discovers that MAG is NASA’s acronym for a “Maximum Absorbency Garment”—basically, astronaut diapers. It’s a bit odd, coming from his preschool age daughter, but, unable to explain it, he dismisses it as coincidence.

A few days later, against Jan’s wishes, Darryl sneaks Abi outside to shoot off fireworks. He instructs “Commander Abi” to initiate the launch countdown. She corrects him, saying that her name is Commander Jones.

Over breakfast the following morning, while playing with her ever-present crocheted rocket, Darryl asks Abi to show him how to imitate a moon landing. She admits that she doesn’t know how. The reason, she adds, is because she never made it to the moon due to the Apollo fire. Another internet query reveals that the Apollo 1 mission was scrapped due to a pre-launch fire, claiming the life of an astronaut named—you guessed it—Commander Jones.

Darryl contacts a blackballed professor who’s studied similar cases, who insists that Abi’s past-life memories are genuine. Once Jan finds out Darryl has been sneaking around to entertain a theory so wildly opposed to their mutual faith, she distances both she and Abi from Darryl.

The final strain on Darryl and Jan's relationship comes when she catches him running an experiment on Abi to find out if she has indeed lived before.

But Darryl won’t give up his quest for truth, even though it may lead to an eventual schism from his wife and the daughter that he will soon never see again.

Or will he?

Darryl’s trying to do the right thing, the best thing, for his daughter. He has to know if she’s been here before and if she may be again. But to even entertain the idea, he must question everything he believes.  It’s a sideways spin on the Abraham/Isaac conundrum, but unfortunately for Darryl, God’s voice doesn’t echo with the solution.  And again, most Christians likely haven’t had to deal with past life scenarios, but plenty have faced hardships that left them wrestling with the Almighty. It’s not always an easy place to be and it can certainly put us at odds not only with the church, but with the ones we care about the most.

The Devout’s greatest lesson is reminding us that God is big enough to handle such questions. Regardless of how much we think we know about God, the truth is His ways are not ours.  We’re privy only to a portion of the final picture.  Often, that leaves us doubting the finished product, even sometimes doubting the painter.  But sometimes His mysterious ways make for magnificent masterpieces.  They just may come at the turn of some unexpected brush strokes.

Maybe we’ll get all the answers once the final work is revealed.  Maybe we’ll be left with more questions. But if we trust in the Creator, whether we understand the finished product or not, we’ll be left with a true work of art.

You can bet your lives on it.

A multiple-award-winning film, The Devout was directed by Connor Gaston. It is currently available on iTunes Movies, Comcast Xfinity, Amazon Video and Sony PlayStation.

Filed Under: Reviews

Still Dark: Debut Novel Puts Innovative Bite Into Horror

November 8, 2017 by Jason Norton Leave a Comment

It’s not easy to be scary.

No really, take a shot.

We’ll wait.

And when you get done with that, try your hand at being funny. Or endearing. Or poignant.

Any luck?

How about trying to be all of the above?

A handful of actors can pull it off, maybe a few writers too.  But how many can do it on their first attempt?

Author D.W. Gillespie will be the first to admit his new debut novel, Still Dark, was not, in fact, his first rodeo in the wild world of the written word.  But bow howdy, it sure is one heck of a ride.

It’s a page-turning, action-packed roller coaster of fright and feeling that can make you gasp, laugh and cry—sometimes all within the same chapter. It’s a fresh new take on an oft-mined genre that delivers solid prose and imaginative twists.

Set in Gillespie’s beloved Tennessee, Still Dark opens with a bang (literally) when a mysterious shockwave stuns travelers at a mountain retreat. It isn’t long before deadly predators from the animal kingdom—species completely foreign to the Deep South—inexplicably start showing up. But as secrets begin to unravel, the bloodthirsty critters could be the least of our heroes’ worries. And it isn’t long before they realize that sometimes, the most dangerous animals are humans.

Gillespie was kind enough to share some insight into Still Dark, his writing process and just how a well-adjusted family man can spill so much macabre onto the page.

How did your writing career begin? What was the evolution to get Still Dark published?

While there could be plenty of official start dates for me, I usually consider around 2002 to be where it really got moving. I took a creative writing class in college, and my teacher, a published novelist herself, was very encouraging. I, like most young writers, had absolutely no clue how much of a grind it would be, and I sort of drifted in and out of writing for years.

Things really ramped up about six or so years ago when I started landing short stories in anthologies here and there. I took the Stephen King On Writing route of building up a little cred with shorts before jumping into novels. I had already written a few “practice” novels over the years, but Still Dark was the first swing for the fences.

Since then, I’ve written several more novels, landed a literary agent, and just tried my best to stay busy. I’m hoping that this is just the beginning for me.

Where did the idea for Still Dark come from?

It was all from a dream I had about a crocodile swimming under a frozen pond. It was such a weird, eerie image that I stumbled around the bedroom at 3 in the morning looking for something to write on, which my wife really appreciated. It was the perfect example of one of those little seeds that gets in your head and refuses to leave until it’s fully grown.

The characters are very relatable. Were they based on your personal experiences or relationships or were they characters who wrote themselves?

I’ve started getting the question about the characters a lot, particularly from people I work with.

“Hey, you’re like Jim, huh?”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s quite that simple…”

“Yeah, you’re Jim!”

The easiest way to answer that question is to say that there’s some of me in everybody. I just think that’s the way it works for writers. Nothing is ever a 1 to 1 comparison, but it’s impossible to ever truly divorce myself from my characters.

There is a lot about facing personal fears in this story.  Do you consider that the central theme or is there a larger message above and beyond just a good horror story? 

I wish I could say that this story had some overarching theme, but at the point I was at when I wrote Still Dark, I was just trying to make the best story possible. In a lot of my work that has come after, I’ve definitely injected more social commentary into it, but Still Dark was just a fun, gruesome little ride.

Now, that’s not to say there’s no meat on the bones. There’s some environmental messages that are right out front for any and all to see. I mean, any book where animals start killing everything in sight isn’t being too subtle. And the family dynamics are interesting, particularly with Laura and her dad.

There is some seriously gruesome stuff in here, a lot of which takes place amongst the human characters independent of the wild animals or the big shockers that we won’t spoil for readers.  How do you get to the place to write that type of subject matter?  You seem like such a nice young man…

You know, the deeper I get into writing, the more I think that people who read, write, and enjoy dark fiction might be the most sane people in the room. It’s just a natural thing for me, even if I’m not entirely sure why. I had a pretty good childhood. I’m happily married. My wife and kids are awesome. Why this stuff comes out of me is anyone’s guess.

Regardless of the reasons, I do think there’s a form of therapy here for me. Lots of people seem to struggle with an outlet for whatever they’re going through. Getting it out and onto a page helps keep me more or less normal, boring even.

Tell me about the importance of setting the story so close to your own hometown.

I love the setting. I knew I wanted to have the snow in place, which fits really well with the area. Gatlinburg is just one of those perfect little spots for people that grew up around Tennessee. It’s equal parts beautiful and kitschy, and it just makes for an awesome setting for a mayhem filled horror story.

If anyone ever makes a movie out of Still Dark, they better not change the city!

I feel it’s a bit cliche to ask about your writing influences, but if you could sit down and have a beer with anyone, who would it be and why?

Like every other horror writer in existence, I’d have to say Stephen King. He’s obviously a huge influence, and he seems like a really great choice to drink a beer with. I’d throw Joe Hill in too, just to make it a family affair.

Other good choices might be Cormac McCarthy, Richard Matheson, Shirley Jackson, and John Steinbeck. That would make for an interesting meal.

Do you consider yourself a man of faith, and, if so, did any of that show up in Still Dark?

That’s a big can of worms that we probably don’t have time to cover in a satisfactory way, but I will say this. I consider faith to be personal thing that affects everything you do whether you intend it to or not. Obviously, this isn’t a “Christian” book, but the themes of sacrifice and selflessness are definitely in there, just wrapped in a pretty gory package.

What scares you?

Every year of my life, the answer to “what scares you” changes pretty dramatically. I’d say Still Dark is a pretty good reflection of that, from the childish fear of spiders and bugs to the deeper, existential fears of death and loss. I’m reaching the age where my fears have less to do with myself and more with those around me, which is very prevalent in a handful of scenes in the book.

Still Dark is published by Sirens Call Publications and is available on Amazon and Smashwords.  Follow D.W. Gillespie on Twitter at @dw_gillespie.

Filed Under: OtherFish, Reviews

Cult of Chucky–Put Your Listening Fears On

October 10, 2017 by Jason Norton Leave a Comment

Perhaps it’s a grizzly observation, especially for a faith-based site, but someone’s gotta admit it:

Slasher films can be fun.

Sure, it’s satisfying–and almost justifiable–to see obnoxious, unruly teens meet their doom at the hands of some crazed killer.  But to really enjoy slasher movies, you have to enjoy the slasher.  And there’s perhaps no slasher more enjoyable than the star of the Child’s Play franchise, the diabiolical demonic doll, Chucky.

Every bit as funny as Freddy Krueger of Elm Street fame, Chucky brings an added tongue-in-cheek, nostalgic Saturday-morning-cartoon-advertisement vibe that makes every kill as ludicrous as it is horrific.  And lest there be any doubt of the fans’ endearment with the pint-sized killer, consider this: the latest installment in the franchise, Cult of Chucky (film number 7, if you’re keeping track at home) just debuted on Netflix, Blu-ray and On-Demand video–twenty-nine years after the original Child’s Play tickled and terrrified moviegoers.

Who thought it was a good idea to leave scalpels lying around in a mental hospital? Chucky, that's who.

Cult is a love letter to those fans who’ve stayed true since day one.  Written and directed by franchise creator Don Mancini, it builds upon cannon and reunites former characters and cast members including the sultry/scary bride of Chucky, Tiffany Valentine (Jennifer Tilly) and an all grown-up Andy Barclay (Alex Vincent), the first poor little tortured soul to feel the wrath of the gruesome Good Guy doll.

Yeah, you could say Andy has a few unresolved issues in regards to his relationship with Chucky.

Cult picks up where 2013’s Curse of Chucky left off.  Atypical, paraplegic final girl Nica Pierce (Fiona Dourif–daughter of Chucky voice talent Brad Douriff) is now locked away in a mental hospital, after Chucky framed her for the murders of her family (his handiwork, of course).

Nica wonders if she is really crazy...unfortunately, she'll soon get her answer.

During a tense group thereapy session with fellow patients who doubt her innocence, Nica’s psychiatrist, Dr. Foley (Michael Therriault) utilizes a Good Guy doll named Chucky (of course) to encourage her to accept that she actually killed her family and transferrred her guilt onto the original Chucky.  Dr. Foley insists that Chucky couldn’t have come to life and harmed anyone.  Nica rejects the doll, but another patient, Madeleine (Elisabeth Rosen) adopts Chucky to take the place of her own child, whom she smothered.

It's a little difficult to trust Dr. Foley, what with that hypodermic needle and all.

Later, Nica is visited by Tiffany Valentine, who claimed that Nica’s niece, Alice has died.  According to Tiffany, Alice left Nica her own personal Good Guy doll (of course) as a gift.  That night, overcome with fear and frustration, Nica tries to kill herself by cutting her own wrists.  She passes out from blood loss, but she wakes in the morning to find her wrists sutured.  A hand-scrawled “not so fast” is written in the pool of blood left by her bed. It isn’t long before orderlies discover that another patient is dead, and this time, the message left in her blood reads, “Chucky did it.”

Beware of strangers bearing gifts, especially when their last name is Valentine and your present is a Good Guy doll.

It isn’t long before the body count begins to add up when yet another Good Guy doll gets delivered to the hospital.   Turns out ol’ Chuck has been boning up on his black magic and discovered how to split his consciousness between multiple hosts.  And the more Nica tries to convince everyone else that the dastardly dolls are responsible, the less they seem to believe her (of course).

What's worse than one murderous Chucky doll? An unholy trio of them.

Nica’s plight calls to mind the struggles of the prophets who tried, time and again, to warn the Israelites of God’s judgment against their wrongdoing.  From Moses to Malachi, the prophets all struggled to make the people believe their Holy message.  Instead the Chosen scoffed, strayed and struggled, part human nature, part hubris.  And much like the Chucky’s victims, they ended up dead or enslaved, either literally or figuratively.

Things haven’t changed much.  Pastors and preachers declare the Word of the Lord to an unbelieving, unbudging population, watching and waiting for hearts of stone to be broken, clinging to the hope that one day, all hope will be restored.  And all the while, we, the supposed people of God, keep seeing just how far we can push Him, just how far we can separate ourselves.  That’s crazier than getting locked in an asylum with a killer doll.

But back to our picture.

If you’re a fan of the Child’s Play series, or if you just like some clever horror, check in to the Cult of Chucky.  The kills are creative, the inside jokes are fun and the performances–especially Vincent’s and Ms. Douriff’s)–surpass most found in such a long-standing horror series.  It won’t scare your overalls off, but it will provide some jumps and some laughs.  And it will prep you for the inevitable sequel (of course).

Filed Under: Reviews

Bad Blood: Look Before You Leap

October 1, 2017 by Jason Norton Leave a Comment

Werewolves sure have it easy.

Aside from a few fleas, excruciating once-per-month-transformations and obsessively/compulsively marking their territory, there’s not much to ruffle their fur.

Want it tough? Trying being a were-frog.

You leave a slime trail pretty much everywhere you go, no one wants to kiss you and you have an uncontrollable desire to rip your family to ribbons. At least your uber-hot friend buys it ten minutes in so you don’t have to compete with her (spoiler alert).

Such is the quandry that befalls our heroine, Victoria (Mary Malloy) in Bad Blood: The Movie, the latest offering from indie horror/sci-fi/horror house, Level 33 Entertainment. It’s a tongue-in-cheek tribute to the creature features of the ‘80’s that never takes itself too seriously, but offers up some fun makeup effects and drive-in style schlock that will appeal to hardcore humor/horror fans.

It’s a safe bet that it won’t get an Oscar nod, but it did score the top spot at the Chattanooga Film festival and turned heads at several other small-scale shows. Produced on a shoestring, it manages to deliver atmospheric sets and shots that evoke memories of other low-budget classics like Re-Animator and Basket Case.

Protagonist Victoria sets herself up for a whole lot of grief when she decides to sneak out of the house to escape her overbearing stepdad (a classic mistake).  Throwing caution to the wind, she meets up with her bestie for a wild night of partying.  One fateful gas station stop later, her friend becomes frog food when a six-foot amphibian makes a meal of her. Victoria gets mauled but survives, thanks to a mysteriously nameless gas station attendant (Vikas Adam).

It's not usually prudent to seek medical advice from a gas station attendant, but Victoria quickly learns this one may be her only hope.

Attempting to prevent Victoria from becoming a frog-beast, the Attendant spends a fortnight pumping her full of chemicals you wouldn’t find at your local Citgo. Turns out he’s working his way through med school and has the inside dirt on the nefarious MD responsible for creating the frogman in the first place.

At times like this, the Attendant probably wishes all he had to worry about was changing the price of unleaded on the tanks.

Luckily the Attendant assisted with the initial research, so he’s able to craft an antidote to temporarily keep the frog-canthropy at bay. The bad news? There is no permanent cure for poor Victoria.

Meanwhile her vengeful stepdad hires a violently-delusional PI to find her, not because he’s really concerned, but just so he can get her back home and keep her underfoot.

He’s really gonna wish he’d been nicer to her.

Bad news for Victoria: her new frog face is the least of her worries.

Bad Blood plays like a classic cautionary tale—how disobedience breeds catastrophe, how vengeful oppressors eventually get their comeuppance—think Samson meets Pharaoh (this time the plague of frogs is decidedly singular). But there’s even a bit of anecdotal (or should it be antidote-al?) redemption for the Attendant (shades of Paul, David and Jonah) as he tries to make up for his destructive science by saving Victoria. And even though he essentially fails, he’s able to offer her at least some semblance of salvation and a small dose of sanity — an allegorical addendum not always included in the world of  small-time splatter.

Though its likely that Bad Blood won’t become a part of any pop culture review curriculum at seminary, it makes for far-fetched Friday night fun, if you’re feeling froggy.  Just make sure you fill up before you head for the Blu-Ray kiosk.  You don’t want to take your chances at a gas station.

Filed Under: DVD, Reviews

Swordmaster–Time Enough for Eternity

March 23, 2017 by Jason Norton Leave a Comment

Poor Yen Shi-san.

It’s bad enough he has to walk around with a face tattoo that looks like a cross between the cover art for Ghost Rider and Black Swan.  The real kick in the robes?  No one will leave him alone long enough to let him die–usually because they’re always trying to kill him.

After a lifetime dealing out death, assassin Yen (Peter Ho)  is ready to embrace it himself.  He’s the best swordsman in the world and there’s no one left to challenge him, since the legendary Third Master is no more.  He’s gone from creating and perfecting the ultimate unstoppable fighting technique to smiting the disgruntled revenge-seeking relatives of his victims.  And as bad as he wants to die, he can’t lower himself to let these inferiors deal the killing blow.

He gets a new lease on life when a group of poor villagers beg him to teach his secrets to a young drifter they’ve adopted as their future protector.  Yen obliges, only to later learn the unknown champion is actually the decidedly alive Third Master (Lin Gengxin).

At least it may make that whole dying thing a lot easier.

Yen Shi-san prepares to bring down the hammer--or the blade--on yet another oppnent.

Like many other modern Chinese homages to classic kung-fu cinema, Derek Yee’s Swordmaster is chock full of 3-D high-flying, somersault-dizzying action.  There’s some blood and guts thrown in for good measure and the oft-employed humor that usually seems lost in translation.  The heavily-CGI’d sets paint a chromatic, endless contrast of light and dark.  Yen’s story is juxtaposed nicely with the Third Master’s own tale (after a lifetime of killing, he’s sworn off fighting).  It resolves predictably, if not entirely pleasingly.  But it’s the symbolism that truly shines, helping to flesh Yen out as more than just all fists and no fury.

He chooses the Hundred-Flower Forest as his final resting place.  It is a veritable Eden of unsurpassed beauty and tranquility.  Each night, he sleeps in the open grave that he dug with his own bloodstained hands.  It will one day be sealed over, quiet and snug, a soil cell offering salvation from the prison he calls life.  So desperate to finally rest, he chains his tombstone to his back and carries it to his grave.  Though he still lives and breathes, he’s dead on the inside; his portable epitaph a cumbersome, burdening reminder.

Bad news for the bad guys: the Third Master is ready to fight again.

It’s a strong reminder for the rest of us.  So often, we too are weighed down by our perceived futility of the present.  Even for Christians, who are promised an eternity even more glorious than the Hundred-Flower Forest, the gravity of the mortal pit stop on the way to Glory seems too much to bear.  How do we keep out faith in the world of the faithless?  When the demons close in on every side, like Yen, we often simply want to run away and hide in the final act where everything is beautiful and perfect.

But you can’t have an ending without a beginning and an end.

Unfortunately, that’s where the messy parts get thrown in.  All the tough stuff–all the villains and violence, all the monsters and mayhem and heartbreak and hatred and lunacy and loss–that all happens in the middle.  But so does the great stuff.  The visions and the victories, the magic and the majesty, the harmony and the happiness and the light and the love–all of that wonderful, vital, nourishing, nurturing stuff–happens in the middle.  And it’s given freely to all who believe.

Yen and the Third Master square ff to see who really wants to live--and who really dares to die.

Christ wants us to experience that joy, that earthly fulfillment, here and now.  In Luke 12: 27-28, Christ reminds us that our day-to-day struggles shouldn’t define our life here on earth, or leave us throwing up our hands waiting on things to get better.  “Consider the lilies, how they grow:” he tells his disciples.  “They neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass, which is alive in the field today, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith! And do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried. For all the nations of the world seek after these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, seek his kingdom, and these things will be added to you.”

There will be time for Eternity later.  Granted, none of us know exactly when we’ll get to see it, but we can’t neglect the present in the hopes of getting there any quicker.  Struggles will assuredly come, but Christ’s victory equips us to not only endure the present–it equips us to live. 

Enjoy this beautiful world, this beautiful life you have been given, carrying your cross, but not your tombstone.  Live as Christ would in the here and now.  Love your neighbor, seek justice, love mercy and walk humbly with your God.  Temper your steps with His light burden and the journey will be much more vibrant than any 3D, CGI big screen epic.

And the ending?  Wait for it…wait for it…

Wait for it.

Filed Under: Reviews

IT: What a Bunch of Losers

January 11, 2017 by Jason Norton 1 Comment

It’s tough enough to adapt an author’s seminal work for the big screen; perhaps even harder for a filmmaker to follow with his own version of an already beloved adaptation of that same literary masterpiece.

Apparently director Andres Muschietti wasn’t scared. But he darned sure knows how to be scary.

Muschetti’s brand new take on Stephen King’s IT fills the clown-sized shoes of its 1990 TV miniseries with ease, threatening to burst the very big top as the new standard by which all other King-adaptations will be judged by. IT is smart, funny, captivating and oh so very, very scary. It’s not just a fantastic horror movie (superior to ninety percent of the genre’s offerings over the past decade), but a great film. And much like its original source material, IT deserves to be revered as a modern-day classic.

The ultimate deterrent to make sure kids don't play in storm drains: Pennywise the Dancing Clown.

Weighing in at a hefty two hours and fifteen minutes, IT never lulls. The opening titles have barely rolled when the creep factor creeps in; the first gasp-inducing moment follows mere moments later…and the thrills and chills just keep coming, like a terrifying high-wire act that you watch with one hand over your eyes.

But don’t dare miss a bit of IT. Even with the considerable screen time given the monstrous villain, Pennywise the Dancing Clown (Bill Skarsgard, the brilliant heir to Tim Curry’s 1990 version), the real scares—and the real showmanship—is found in the brilliant backstories of the ragamuffin protagonists and the secrets locked behind the closed doors of King’s oft-used odd-town, Derry, Maine.

This time, we learn of yet another of Derry’s sinister subplots: children disappear. Like, all the time. In fact, they disappear at six times the national average for missing kids. And though the residents mourn these horrifying losses, nobody seems to want to find out why.

Not until young Georgie Denbrough (Jackson Robert Scott) disappears down a storm drain and his older brother Bill (Jaeden Lieberher) decides to get to the bottom of the mystery. Bill enlists the aid of his small circle of friends—a rambling troupe of self-deprecating teens who gladly accept their peer-given moniker of “The Losers Club.” It’s a snub that’s more true than any of the group’s detractors realize. That’s because each one of the Losers has lost some type of familial tie—most often, the parent/child relationship.

The Losers have a tough choice to make--keep running or confront their worst fears.

Yes, the poor Losers have endured—continue to endure—more horror than the child-nabbing-Pennywise can inflict. Sure, he’s a centuries-old demon who can manifest as their deepest fears, but the Losers have been living in their nightmares, whether waking or dreaming, for the entirety of their short lives. Disappointment, paranoia, tragic death, emotional and sexual abuse—all have rent the Losers’ lives asunder. Yet still they persevere, staring down the personification of the evil that seems to big, too close to home, to overcome. Still they fight, realizing that together, they are stronger than the sum of their individual tragedies.

Georgie always hated going in the basement. Bill finally finds out why. Pennywise lies in wait like a crawlspace rat, just waiting to feed on the fears of his victims.

It’s a not-so-subtle reminder of personal pitfalls, and the strength that comes with the admission that we don’t have it all together, despite our desperate desire to have others believe that we do. Too often we sit inside the cubicle—or at the end of the pew—afraid to drop our guard. We worry about what everyone else would say if our inner demons were ever exposed. Instead of seeking help, we choose to do battle on our own and end up busted up, beaten down and beholden to the dark desires of the villains who perpetually remind us of the worst of ourselves. It is only when we share our struggles with one another—and with Christ—that we stand a chance to bury whatever IT is that has tortured us for so long.

The Losers quickly learn how much harder it is to beat the killer clown on his own turf.

It’s not easy to expose our demons. In fact, it’s pretty darned scary. But there’s a whole world of frightened people out there, a veritable three-ring circus of pain, shame and regret. Luckily, there’s a Ringmaster who can juggle all the madness and turn the worst episodes of our lives into the Greatest Show on Earth. His name is Jesus and he’s not scared.  He’s waiting to make a fool out of your Pennywise.

Be astonished. Be astounded. Be amazed.

Be set free.

Bring out the clowns.

Special features include “Pennywise Lives,” a look at how Bill Skarsgard prepared to play the role of Pennywise; “The Losers Club,” how the teenagers bonded together on the set and off; “Author of Fear,” how Stephen King’s original premise – and its villain – came into existence; and deleted scenes. 

Filed Under: Books, DVD, Featured, Reviews

Lights Out–Overcoming Darkness

October 28, 2016 by Jason Norton Leave a Comment

 

screamfish iter 2

Call it the potato chip effect.

If one is delicious, fifty must be amazing.

Or maybe you could label it the exercise effect.  If running three miles is healthy, running fifty must be exponentially more invigorating.

And you could most certainly call it the horror movie effect.

If the first one was good, the five sequels will be even better.  If the original kills were gruesome, the subsequent deathblows will mind-warping-ly nauseating.

Whatever you call it (big surprise, we’ll be referring to the horror one), it’s the idea that bigger is better and that if some were sufficient, more must certainly be glorious.

Nobody seems to ascribe to this philosophy than the aforementioned horror screenwriters and producers.  But sometimes, it’s not even about compounding carnage or exponential eviscerations.

Sometimes, it’s just about taking a really great, really small, really simple idea and blowing it way out of palatable proportions.  The latest example is Lights Out, a pale one-and-a-half hour upsize of a stellar two-and-a-half-minute indie film.

The original short film premise was simple: a woman who appears to live alone is preparing to go to bed.  When she turns the lights off, she glimpses the silhouette of a shadowy figure at the end of the hall.  When she flips the lights back on, the figure is gone.  Another flip to darkness, and the shadow appears again.  Lights on, no shadow.  Lights off…you get the drift.  She finally makes it to the bed, and turns out the lights.  Then her door shuts on its own.  As she cowers beneath the covers, she timidly sneaks a hand out to click on her nightstand lamp.  Gradually, she peeks her head out to find the door open.  She breathes a sigh of relief, figuring she’d imagined the whole scenario.  Just then, she glances back to the nightstand to find a hairy, toothy goblin waiting for her.  He extinguishes the lamp and the credits roll. It’s a wonderful final-gotcha’-jump scare that works beautifully; so much so, that it’s garnered 3.5 million YouTube views.

So naturally, someone thought it would be worth capitalizing on.

Hopes were high as horror wunderkind James Wan (director of the highly successful The Conjuring films) was tapped to produce the big screen adaptation.  But not even he could save it from being a much more convoluted and unnecessary version of the source material.  The gimmick works great for a three-minute film, but wears thin after the big screen opening scene.  Though it wants to be part supernatural thriller, at its core, Lights Out is a fright film based solely around the jump scare (and there are plenty included in case you missed the first three or four).  The problem is, the jump scares cease being scary before we ever get to any of the supernatural explanation that seems rushed and incomplete.

It turns out that struggling single mom Sophie (Maria Bello) has been tormented by this lights on/off specter since she was a little girl in a mental institution and by the time the film begins, her fragile psyche is at a tipping point.

Martin decides it may be better to sleep with the lights on.

Husband Paul (Billy Burke) and daughter Rebecca (Theresa Palmer) left because they couldn’t handle her decline or the genuine manifestation of the very real, physically hostile shadow creature.  Sophie’s son, Martin (Gabriel Bateman), her last vestige of hope for a familial connection, goes to stay with his estranged sister the dark figure begins to accost him.

Sophie reveals her long and storied history with Diana.

It’s then up to the kids to try and save mom from Diana…who turns out to be little more than a disappointing comic-book-style villain (SPOILER ALERT!!!): as a girl she suffered from a severe skin condition that left her physically vulnerable to light; an unsuccessful light-therapy cure attempt killed her, but left her ghost with the ability to thrive in darkness only—once the lights are on, she disappears.

Bad news Rebecca: you're only holding a tube light, not a lightsaber.

It comes off as an interesting premise, but not a scary one (but man, the crazy disco parties they could’ve had if they’d installed a strobe light and The Clapper).

The shadowy Diana waits in the corner...where's a lava lamp when you need one?

There is an underlying sense of family dynamics and a subtle allusion to the return of the prodigal—though it’s not the kids who have journeyed into the far country even though they’re the ones who left.  The true wanderer of the film is Sophie, because she’s allowed her strange relationship with Diana to overshadow her relationship with her family.  And when that light bulb finally goes off, Sophie realizes she may have to make the ultimate sacrifice to keep her kids from being overcome by the darkness.  In our side of reality, it was Christ who made the sacrifice, giving his life to save us from the all-too real horror of sin and death.  John employs a stunning visual to illustrate this miraculous gift as he personifies Christ this way:

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5). 

It is only through Christ’s work of salvation that we–or our world–can defeat the darkness.  And fortunately for us, it really is as simple as flipping a switch: believe, repent and follow.  Step toward the light.

And fortunately for the team behind Lights Out, it cleared $148 million worldwide and has been greenlit for a sequel.  So like it or love it, get ready: the sun’s not going down on the franchise anytime soon.

Crunch all you want, they’ll make more.

Filed Under: Featured, Film, Reviews, ScreamFish

The Caretaker–Don’t Fret Regret

October 7, 2016 by Jason Norton Leave a Comment

screamfish iter 2And you thought driving your Mammaw to the Piggly Wiggly was a pain.

Be glad you’re not Mallorie.  She’d kill for a lazy jaunt to the corner market.  That’s because her crazed Gram Gram Birdie seems obsessed with the dead…and bringing them back to the land of the living.

Sweet Mallorie (Meegan Warner) is the hero of Level 33 Entertainment’s The Caretaker, a new thriller that could make anybody think twice about volunteering for adult-sitter duty.  When her demented grandmother, Birdie (Sondra Kerr Blake), begins a downward spiral, Mallorie steps up to take care of her.  Against the wishes of her boyfriend, August (Sean Martini), Mallorie eschews placing Birdie into a nursing home or hiring a professional aid to sit with her.  Instead, she convinces August that they must move in with Birdie in order to preserve the old gal’s dignity.

Mallorie and Birdie reminisce about the good old days...that were really just creepy, wierdo kind of days.

The only problem (well, the biggest problem) is that Birdie’s nest holds some nasty memories for Mallorie.  After her mother abandoned her there as a little girl, Mallorie developed a severe sleepwalking condition and was plagued by visions of a spooky, stalking clown.  Meanwhile, Birdie kept slipping a little further from reality, trying to win Mallorie’s love with neurotic displays of affection.

Birdie bakes a whole heap of birthday cakes to win Mallorie's love, back in the days when she was only slightly insane.

Once Mallorie returns as an adult, things get even weirder.  Her sleepwalking worsens and it isn’t long before the only thing she can remember about the chronic episodes is a strange set of encounters with a little girl who doesn’t live there—and a disturbing reunion with the creepy clown.

Mallorie sees a little girl upon the stair; a little girl who is not there.

Meanwhile, the secrets of Birdie’s mysterious past are revealed and we soon learn that she sees a lot more than she lets on.

August finds clues about Birdie's spooky past and quickly understands why you should never read someone else's diary.

And she really like clowns…especially dead ones.

Shot in a mere twelve days, The Caretaker opts for lore over gore.  It relies on story and tone to craft an unsettling, if not overly terrifying, narrative.  Slasher hounds will be left wanting, but suspense fans will enjoy the slow build to burn formula with an intriguing, unexpected end.

Everything is a little offbeat from the get-go and Birdie’s mania waivers from unsettling to irritating.  Though light on effects, some fun fuzzy camera tricks add some nice “did-I-really-see-that-in-the-background?” visuals.  It’s equally short on jump scares, and the few included unfortunately fall into the all-too-familiar mistakenly perceived threat devoid of dangerous payoff.  And the current trope du jour—the clown—makes for a convenient narrative vehicle, but lacks the bite of some of his big screen counterparts.

Still, The Caretaker provides some worthwhile cerebral horror, and it does a better job of haunting after the credits roll than many of the aforementioned an-unstoppable-constantly-returning slashers.  Chances are, you won’t have to worry about an axe-wielding zombie chasing you through the woods anytime soon (hopefully), but any of us may one day be faced with the task of caring for a loved one who just isn’t all there anymore—and whether they see dead clowns or not, that’s still a frightening plot in and of itself.

The Caretaker reminds us of the misery of regret, whether we’re futilely trying to hold on to the memories of the days when it was beautiful, or whether we’re trying to recapture the lost relationships that broke our hearts.  It teaches us that whichever side of the coin we are on, we must make the best of our present situation and hope for a better future.

The Apostle Paul dealt with a unique form of regret.  Before his conversion (when he went by the name Saul), he spent years persecuting Christians during his affiliation with the Pharisees.  Afterward, he became one of the strongest defenders of the faith.  He preached to the same people he’d punished, but constantly reminded them that he was not worthy to do so.  Throughout his writings, he laments his prior misdeeds, but spends the remainder of his days trying to do the right thing.  In Philippians 3:13-14, he says:

“Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of [the goal]. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

Paul knew there was no going back to change his past.  It was a part of him, but it didn’t determine his future.  He kept his eyes on Christ, kept working to advance His kingdom and kept striving to make each day better than the one that had come before.

All of us have done things we’d rather not have.  Or maybe we’ve not done things we wish we had.  But dwelling on those regrets will only weigh us down and prevent us from achieving our full potential, not only in the here and now, but in days to come.  Paul showed us that no matter where we’ve come from or what we’ve done or didn’t do, we can improve.  And with each new day, we can become a better example of Christ for a world that so desperately needs Him.

Paul’s story is our story.

It’s one we should take care not to forget.

Filed Under: Reviews

Salem’s Lot, Cat’s Eye & It: Three King Flicks About Losing Innocence

September 27, 2016 by Jason Norton Leave a Comment

screamfish iter 2Crisp evenings.  Bonfires.  Pumpkin spice euphoria.

And horror.

These are the caveats that perfect Autumns are made of.  And the good news for Stephen King fans is that they won’t have to wait until Halloween to get their fill of fall fright.  In fact, the season sees not one, not two, but a trifecta of terror from the master scribe as three of his cinematic adaptations finally come home to Blu-ray.  The 1979 television mini-series  Salem’s Lot and the 1985 big screen anthology Cat’s Eye both made their Blu-ray debut last week; King’s other epic 1990 TV mini-series, It, hits shelves on October 4.

Though now decades old, all three films benefit from their new Blu-ray cleanups.  The Salem’s Lot vampires look even more un-deadlier, the Troll King of Cat’s Eye is less herky but still just as jerky and It’s Pennywise, the living embodiment of fear wrapped in clownskin is still…well, Pennywise…but a whole lot sharper (and there’s not much more unsettling than an HD Pennywise).  Though none of the trio feature much more in the way of Blu-ray extras than audio commentaries, each respective film holds its own against bigger budget/bigger screen counterparts.

And like all things King, some hefty narrative is woven into the spooky fringes.  Much the same as in many of his other works (Carrie, Children of the Corn, and even the dog-centric Cujo, who makes a brilliant cameo in Cat’s Eye), the protagonists in these three Blu-ray beauties are all faced with the inevitable loss of innocence.

Young Ralphie and Danny Glick (Ronnie Scribner and Brad Savage) are forced to leave their childhoods behind when they become some off the earliest victims of vampirism in the cursed hamlet of Salem’s Lot.

The good news is the recently-turned-vampire Glick brothers of Salem's Lot won't have to spend money on dental bills.

In Cats’s Eye, although little Amanda (Drew Barrymore) is certain a belligerent imp is haunting her room, she can’t seem to convince her parents.  If she wants to survive, she will have do the grownups’ job and combat the pint-sized evil herself (with a little help from a protective tomcat).

The Toll King is worse than anything that may be living in Amanda's closet.

And Losers Inc., the ragamuffin protagonists of It, must confront their darkest fears long before anyone should have to, but later realize that adulthood can still be plagued by the demons of youth.

Looking for the creepiest big screen clown ever? Pennywise is It. Only he could lure a kid down a storm drain.

This loss of innocence is more than mere narrative vehicle for authors or producers.  It is, one could argue, the original heartbreak of God.  In the book of Genesis, just as Adam is stitched together from the dust, God grants him dominion over Eden…save one tree.  This sacred shrub, the Tree of Knowledge, is to be avoided at all cost, God warns.  Later, Adam’s female counterpart, Eve, succumbs to the Serpent’s temptation, eating of the Tree’s fruit before sharing a piece with Adam.   Immediately, she and Adam feel shame when they realize they are naked.  Man and woman, God’s perfect creations, are instantly made imperfect because of their disobedience to their creator.

The Serpent had convinced Eve that eating from the Tree would make her as knowledgeable as God and she felt for it, bringing Adam along for the ride.  It wasn’t that God was worried about having humans on par with him; he knew that was just another of the Serpent’s lies.  What broke His heart is that even though they had everything they needed—including His fatherly love—that wasn’t good enough.  They wanted to leave Him behind, to grow up on their own, and follow the harmful lie instead of His loving truth.  And as a result, they were unnecessarily exposed to the ugliness that lay outside of Eden.

It’s a hard road, this growing up.  As a parent, nothing scares me more than to watch my own kids turn into adults.  As Genesis (and Salem’s Lot and Cat’s Eye and It) prove, it can be downright horrifying.  But the great news is, whether we’re a parent or child, we’re not alone.  Maybe a vigilant cat or a vampire hunter isn’t watching over us, but God is.  He didn’t abandon Adam and Eve after they were cast out of the Garden; in fact, he spent the whole rest of the Bible taking care of his creation.  And He’s been on the job every day since, still looking out for us, his children.  So when you’re confronted by the big bad world, remember He’s got your back.

Don’t be such a baby.

But don’t grown up too fast.

Filed Under: DVD, Editorial, Featured, Reviews, ScreamFish

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