A Good Film
It’s late and the night has not be good to me thus far. I can’t close my window the whole way, my light is playing up and I’ve been cursed with the most pathetic little cough in the whole world (I sound like a mouse with the first stages of lung cancer). So, it’s time for A Good Film marathon. And those good films? The Final Destination series.
First off, anyone who’s spoken to me for more than, say, ten minutes will know I love horror films. And not in the same way that people love their My Chemical Romance albums, or their dogs, or their wives. I would kick a leprous seal in the face to spend a minute in the company of John Carpenter; I would cut my index fingers off with a smile on my face to hug Robert Englund. I’d even consider first-degree murder to have a good sit-down chat with Rob Zombie. I really, really love horror films.
I am a huge fan of the FD series. After the first film (by far the weakest) the makers seemed to rub their hands together with glee and decide to have a bit of fun. In a universe where fences are lethal and everyone is a bag of jelly waiting to be disseminated into pieces, the level of creativity is frankly astounding; death by everything is possible, even amateur gymnastics and Thai massage. I blame my general paranoia and antisocial activity on the fact that I once spent a month watching these films on repeat; the world becomes a deeply suspicious place when you face death at least eight times by walking to the shop for some crisps.
I couldn’t choose my favorite if pushed, I’d have to say the fifth or the third. The third has the added bonus of Mary Elizabeth Winstead, a piece of eye-candy so delicious that she makes even Deathproof (Why, Tarantino, why?) watchable. The plot is the same as the other films; after a brief set-up in which one of the characters has a vision of people dying, people don’t die, then death comes after them. And, apparently, so does Tony Todd, in his star-making role as a local undertaker in regular correspondence with death.
One of the most commendable things about the films is their use of models as opposed to special effects; for the most part, the filmakers actually built replicas of the actors, filled them with a comedy amount of squirty strawberry sauce and ketchup, then actually demolished them in a variety of increasingly hilarious ways; my top FD moment has to be a scene in which someone is launched backwards through a fence and diced up into manageable, diamond-shaped chunks. It does take a particular mindset to really get into the films (and, once found, you can never return from it), but the fact that the villain is actually death itself lends a fantastic air of “OH GOD, WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN NEXT?!”to the series, as literally anything can happen at any time, leading to fantastically self-aware scenes such as this one (I wouldn’t reccomend watching it if you plan on eating soon)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3LODv11y59I in which the filmmakers gleefully toy with the audience before a fantastic and ludicrous payoff.
But my light has finally given up the ghost and I’m being treated to a frankly astonishingly bad rendition of Que Sera, Sera, and it feels time to settle down and point and laugh while people I don’t know die. Just like watching BBC News then, really.