Pick 31: Slick Flick Pick: Will Alicia's Throat be Slit, Skull Split, or will She, the Killer, OutWitt? (From an Old Rumor Mill-- New Blood will Spill); (Urban Legend, 1998) *With Caro Blood Red Wine*
Explicit content warning
05/03/23 • 120 min
Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Allow us the pleasure of ushering you through the picturesque angles of the lively, beating heart of the campus's quadrangle where buff Adonis athletes and slutty, sightly sorority bods dangle, by now, as we are double digits of Slick Flick Pick in, you know the score, of these heat lightning-lit collegiate grounds, and of Natalie's gothic, roomie whore, we give you a blood-drenched, blood-soaked, blood-stained, in all stages of drying to dried blood tour, whether Pop Rocks eater, swimmer, journalist, skier or water polo player, all sprint for their fstars lives to sidestep, dodge and outrun the parka-sporting slayer. This nor'easter academic community proves deceptively quaint, suburban legends taint this town like unsightly spray paint, this flick's cast, though now a blast from the past, is comely and magnetic-- with spunk, flair and bombast, but their collective past is rooted in intrigue, and the core of this flick's fun is taking safe bets on who will get axed first, defenestrated last, and which of the cast will, the hooded axe wielding omnipresent slasher, outrun slash outlast. This campus proves a secret-prying, death-defying, disk-jockeying, cock-blocking, goth roomie-rocking, body outline-chalking, urbane, legendary treat of Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are our Cinematic Fanatics; we, your worthwhile f****** cinephiles. For your 31st episode, Caro blood red wine Line, and I, review one of our most guilty pleasured, prized and treasured slasher in a parka, in lieu of a slicker, sleekly lit and blood slick flick picks; I have reveled in this film since my first teenage television viewing. So, too, have I watched this legend of the urban in the company of Caro shivers up her spine Line; I once thought Scream took all the horror/slasher cake and though this subsequent flick, they were quick to forsake, in my sprinting-from-the-killer-cross-trainers, it still makes me shake: my pulse pounds and heart thumps to more of a quake and that climatic candlelit scene in Stanley Hall still cuts short my breath, makes my skin crawl and makes me heart leap into free fstars fall. I confess to you, Cinematic Fanatics, this Silvio Horta-written-flick, though financially applauded, both locally and worldwide, was, tragically, critically eviscerated inside as they chose to deride it and chide.
Urban Legend, circa September 1998, this film proficiently casts horror throwbacks, including Freddy from Elm Street, but sadly we see no Neve, Randy or Skeet, but at the coffee shop, not beside a fountain, these vapid, daredevil teens meet, the parka is worn by the axe wielder as they were initially expecting sleet, Damon's chaotic Pepsi/Pop Rocks caper was a brilliantly timed and executed comedic feat and Tara Reid proves such a slutty strumpet in her radio station, c*** jockeying seat.
We offer you: Pick 31: Slick Flick Pick: Will Alicia's Throat be Slit, Skull Split, or Will she, the Killer, OutWitt? (Jumping off Legends); (Urban Legend, 1998) **With the Aural Pleasure of Caro--Blood Red Wine--Line)** Today, we'll discuss-- though this film is rife with blood-red herrings, twists and headless goose chases, the narrative remains fair, one missing, sadly missed legend is a witch named Blair-- I still can't decide what offers a more pleasing scare: Damon's nookie denied glare to Nat the Brat or the wickedly wild curls of Gayheart's frizzy hair.
Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet and Caro Blood Red Wine
P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.
Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Allow us the pleasure of ushering you through the picturesque angles of the lively, beating heart of the campus's quadrangle where buff Adonis athletes and slutty, sightly sorority bods dangle, by now, as we are double digits of Slick Flick Pick in, you know the score, of these heat lightning-lit collegiate grounds, and of Natalie's gothic, roomie whore, we give you a blood-drenched, blood-soaked, blood-stained, in all stages of drying to dried blood tour, whether Pop Rocks eater, swimmer, journalist, skier or water polo player, all sprint for their fstars lives to sidestep, dodge and outrun the parka-sporting slayer. This nor'easter academic community proves deceptively quaint, suburban legends taint this town like unsightly spray paint, this flick's cast, though now a blast from the past, is comely and magnetic-- with spunk, flair and bombast, but their collective past is rooted in intrigue, and the core of this flick's fun is taking safe bets on who will get axed first, defenestrated last, and which of the cast will, the hooded axe wielding omnipresent slasher, outrun slash outlast. This campus proves a secret-prying, death-defying, disk-jockeying, cock-blocking, goth roomie-rocking, body outline-chalking, urbane, legendary treat of Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. You are our Cinematic Fanatics; we, your worthwhile f****** cinephiles. For your 31st episode, Caro blood red wine Line, and I, review one of our most guilty pleasured, prized and treasured slasher in a parka, in lieu of a slicker, sleekly lit and blood slick flick picks; I have reveled in this film since my first teenage television viewing. So, too, have I watched this legend of the urban in the company of Caro shivers up her spine Line; I once thought Scream took all the horror/slasher cake and though this subsequent flick, they were quick to forsake, in my sprinting-from-the-killer-cross-trainers, it still makes me shake: my pulse pounds and heart thumps to more of a quake and that climatic candlelit scene in Stanley Hall still cuts short my breath, makes my skin crawl and makes me heart leap into free fstars fall. I confess to you, Cinematic Fanatics, this Silvio Horta-written-flick, though financially applauded, both locally and worldwide, was, tragically, critically eviscerated inside as they chose to deride it and chide.
Urban Legend, circa September 1998, this film proficiently casts horror throwbacks, including Freddy from Elm Street, but sadly we see no Neve, Randy or Skeet, but at the coffee shop, not beside a fountain, these vapid, daredevil teens meet, the parka is worn by the axe wielder as they were initially expecting sleet, Damon's chaotic Pepsi/Pop Rocks caper was a brilliantly timed and executed comedic feat and Tara Reid proves such a slutty strumpet in her radio station, c*** jockeying seat.
We offer you: Pick 31: Slick Flick Pick: Will Alicia's Throat be Slit, Skull Split, or Will she, the Killer, OutWitt? (Jumping off Legends); (Urban Legend, 1998) **With the Aural Pleasure of Caro--Blood Red Wine--Line)** Today, we'll discuss-- though this film is rife with blood-red herrings, twists and headless goose chases, the narrative remains fair, one missing, sadly missed legend is a witch named Blair-- I still can't decide what offers a more pleasing scare: Damon's nookie denied glare to Nat the Brat or the wickedly wild curls of Gayheart's frizzy hair.
Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet and Caro Blood Red Wine
P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.
Previous Episode
Pick 30: Slick Flick Pick: Frostbitten Neck--Foster, the Fangless Imposter (Whiteout Fang); (30 Days of Arterial Sprays); (30 Days of Night, 2005)
Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Allow me the pleasure of ushering you through the confining, constricting, claustrophobic cold and its cobwebbing cocoon of teeth-chattering chill, but this polar night wind will mirror, mimic and mask the screams of local victims for they will all fall and their warm, human blood will spatter, as their teeth chatter, and spill, this is one northern borough that proves as thrilling as it is chilling, but this town's brand of chill drills down to the bone, and your former colleagues', paramours' and townsfolk screams will dull to a barely audible groan. This visual, auditory treat's both pulseless and pulse-pounding, chest thumping, fang to vamp talon biting, deft sounding, pipeline oil oozing, wintery treat of a Blood/Oil mixture: Slick Flick Pick, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. For your 30th episode, I review one of the most forgotten, hidden, marginalized flick pleasures, where the insufferable cold and the Bela Lugosi wannabe clone behaves rather bold; their ship, once afloat, has run aground, but by the time you've heard their screeching, piercing banshee sound, they've taken hold and grip Barrow by the throat, this vampiric clan, a dictatorship, the foot soldiers get no voice--no vote, though he speaks no discernible dialect, if you look into his black reflective eyes, Marlow does emote-- in his crisp white-collar shirt and blood-soaked trench coat, this community is well-stocked in both whale bone and whaleboat, this flick is as much horror as it is thriller, but the victims are outsiders living on civilization's fringe and these vamps but glorified fang banger, serial killers. I have reveled in this film since my first youthful dollar theatre viewing with my childhood compadre Dan, who called himself Danimal, which was a scary sobriquet indeed as the first four legged victims of this blood slick flick are wolfdog huskie mammalian animals. It is with a mixed bag of pleasure, Cinematic Fanatics, I speak to the contradictory relationship between the financially successful sweeping but critical weeping reviews that trickled on through like a fresh blood drop on Marlow's shoe.
I offer you, regarding this not entirely original but confidently shot, paced and executed flick with enough humanity captured to make you care, but not so much exposition and maudlin dialogue to damage the efficiently paced production beyond repair, there are genuinely frightening moments that do not resort to or overly rely on jump fstars scare, and the main cast partakes in some shizzy, dullard decisions, but not so many that you tug to pull out your hair with this polarizing, polar night-frostbite-fright tale in 30 Days of Night circa October 2007. This film's black-eyed, pallid faced villain meets all the trappings of the vampirical empirical and brings a nuanced nefariousness and a quirky queerness as only the magnetic Danny Huston can, though Sheriff Eban may have a plan, which oft involves different tenses of ran, Eban does prove the quintessential badass Alpha leader hero man and by the end of this flick's polar roller coaster ride, he'll receive one f*** of a lingering, lethal tan.
I offer you: Pick 30: Slick Flick Pick: Frostbitten Neck--Foster, the Fangless Imposter (30 days of Arterial Sprays); (30 Days of Night, 2005.) Today, we'll discuss--the value of holding up first at the utilidor, how even in the far reaches of an icicle-laden wasteland, you can still find a dame entertaining two dudes at a time i.e. a Barrow-chippie-sparrow-whore, just when you think the polar vortex wind is letting up, or losing interest-- it howls far more, and one nasty bloody-fanged foundling treat awaits Eban's clan, rather inconveniently, at the town's convenience store.
Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet
P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.
F.C.F.U. Salem's Lot = 439 pages.
Next Episode
Pick 32: Slick Flick Pick: Ghostman in the Machine--Where High-Tech Thrills Greet Low-Tech Kills (Blackhat, 2015) **With Red Devil's Aural Appearance**
Greetings, Cinematic Fanatics! Allow us the pleasure of ushering you through both the realm of the digital and the analogue, the melding of the automated and carbon, flesh and blood created, the skylines of the Pearl River Delta as it splashes into Hong Kong City and weaponized, mechanized motherboards of circuitry, next to the buff Adonis Hathaway, Chen Lien looks itty bitty, the legit shiz hacker speak is well-researched and witty, this slick flick transports us all over the world, from the windy city to the angel laden city to Hong Kong City, the streets of Malaysia and Jakarta (as exotic as their inhabitants you pity;) this is a gorgeously shot production with the female lead as pretty as the primal violence gritty, and, as Viola will unceremoniously remind Chen, "liaise" in "liaison group" implies mutuality. This unseen, yet wholly pervasive and persuasive world in Blackhat presents us with both a real mammalian rodent and a weaponized software RAT, a hybrid of the smooth, practiced strokes of the keyboard and kinetic, visceral violence at the end of a sharpened screw-driving tool or well-aimed gat, our intrepid hacker sports attire from both a GQ catalogue and a suit marked HAZMAT, though curt on conversational chat, Nick, when holding sharpened shanks in place by rubber bands, and torso wrapped in taped magazines, he's set for fstars combat, Sadak brushed Nick and Lien off as though a pesky, innocuous gnat, little did his Blackhatting a** know he's messing with a copycat blackhat and a hellcat, and as Hathaway delivers such primordially satisfying mortal combat, so, too, dowe deliver the remote accessed payload of this SFP, an entertaining, slick/flick-explaining series, a desirable diversion from the main vein of Chemohawk Sessions. For your 32nd episode, we deliciously-- almost deliriously, dissect one of our most prized, techno savvy films, one of our most lauded Mann films, one of our most mutually personalized and memorable flicks in the last 10 years; I have reveled in this film since my first solo viewing. I overlook the flicks piddly and unpardonable pedant found faults; it is these captious critics who set their default setting to critical assault, taking a competently made, expertly shot flick that is worth its salt and shizzing all over it till it whiplash crashes to a halt. I confess to you, Cinematic Fanatics, this Mann directed flick was financially woeful, both locally and worldwide, and its critical consideration only, at times, more hopeful.
Enter, with us, you cinematic fanatics, into the realm of film's fantasy as we unwind the grind of reality... We offer you: Pick 32: Slick Flick Pick: Ghostman in the Machine-- Where High-Tech Thrills Greet Low-Tech Kills (Blackhat, 2015). Today, we'll discuss--the gentle and gratuitously loud sounds of the keyboard's keystrokes, the shocking, albeit eerily reveal that the main protagonist wrote this weaponized code at MIT, as a joke, when the unseen, Blackhat douche is finally uncloaked, he proves to be one fat, unsightly, Hawaiian shirt wearing bloke, when not shirtless or in a Hazmat suit, Hathaway's suits are, no doubt, bespoke, though his clearance, passports and credentials America revoked, he remained unprovoked, but when he lost his ole college roomie broski, Chinese kinfolk, his feral and ferocious rage was invoked so he screwdriver stabbed his way through a torch lit, Day of Silence festival until all who wronged him croaked.
Your worthwhile cinephile: Falsetto Prophet and Redhat Devil
P.S. (Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Soulicious, courtesy of the artist, Dyalla.
F.C.F.U. *Elizabeth Rodriguez was born to Puerto Rican parents and raised in New York City. (Bada** in Miami Vice film)
F.C.F.U. * Misandry is the hatred of, contempt for, or prejudice against men
F.C.F.U. *The Marine method of teaching the basics of proper shooting starts with the acronym BRASS (B=Breath, R=Relax, A=Aim, S=Stop, S=Squeeze).
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