Well it’s October, which normally means all horror all the
time in my house but by some kind stroke of karma from the gods, the Pittsburgh
baseball Pirates are still playing baseball. WE ARE STILL PLAYING BASEBALL! IN
OCTOBER! so horror-watching has been a bit light.
Last week during an off night, we watched the Canadian slasher film My Bloody
Valentine (1981). As soon as I saw the cover image, I remembered that I had
watched the 3D remake of it several years ago but I had the wrong side of
the disc in the DVD player, so it wasn’t actually in 3D and I was just
squinting through these crappy glasses for nothing. As a result, I actually
didn’t remember much of the plot.
Like all great slasher films, the plot is that a bunch of
bad stuff happens on the anniversary of a bad thing happening. Actually, that statement
could probably be amended to cover all slasher films period. Do the bad things
ever just happen out of the blue in slashers? I can’t really think of one that
does. In the case of My Bloody
Valentine, the anniversary is of a mining accident twenty years prior that
caused the deaths of five miners and the immense trauma of the sixth, a man
named Harry Warden. The accident could have been avoided, had the mine
supervisors not been so anxious to get themselves over to the town Valentine’s
Day dance. One year after the accident, the lone survivor murdered the two
supervisors with a pickaxe (best weapon, seriously) then ripped out their
hearts and put them into decorative chocolate boxes with a warning to the town
to never have another Valentine’s dance OR ELSE. As far as warnings go, a human
heart inside a heart-shaped chocolate box is really badass.
So, I am really into this premise for two reasons. 1) it’s 50%
classic slasher and 50% Footloose (“You won't get any dancing here, it's
illegal!”) and 2) I also hate dances so I can really get down with the idea of
murdering people for having one. For sure. For whatever reason, two decades
later the town decides to have this Valentine’s Day dance anyway and people
start turning up dead. Guess who’s back! Back again! Naturally, some teenagers
decide to have a party anyway because teenagers are dumb and often deserve to
die, and naturally they decide to have it at the mine because WHAT COULD BE
MORE SAFE THAN THAT?
The costuming of the killer (full mining gear complete with
mask) is a really great choice because it incorporates the eerie expressionlessness
of Michael Myers from Halloween and Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th—somehow
it’s so much scarier to not see any sort of countenance or emotion on the face
of the killer. All in all, My Bloody Valentine has some pretty good scares and
decent death scenes and a nice twist at the end, so I was pretty pleased with it
if not terribly frightened by it. I was about to call it a night and stroll
leisurely upstairs to bed when I remembered being told that this version I was
watching courtesy of Amazon Instant stream was actually the edited version, and
an uncut version had been released later by a different studio. As it turns
out, a full nine minutes of pure, graphic, gory horror were cut from the
original version of the film to maintain a tolerable rating. I found the uncut
scenes on Youtube and? And? And? Holy shit. They are awesome. Please seek out
the unedited version of this movie and watch them—I don’t want to spoil all of them, but I am going
to spoil this one.
Yessss! Pickaxes are definitely the best weapons. Also, yes, I am aware that this blog is just denigrating into me drawing gruesome pictures with lots of blood like a child who isn't getting enough attention at home. It can't be helped.
So, I was scared after all. I’m not sure what it is about slashers as a genre, but I feel like my post-slasher ritual is to start out walking up the stairs and then find myself at a full run, two-steps-at-a-time, there's-definitely-something-chasing-me-oh-my-god by the top. I’m almost 30. This is who I am.
So, I was scared after all. I’m not sure what it is about slashers as a genre, but I feel like my post-slasher ritual is to start out walking up the stairs and then find myself at a full run, two-steps-at-a-time, there's-definitely-something-chasing-me-oh-my-god by the top. I’m almost 30. This is who I am.
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