strangeland Tagged Articles at Cinematical

Tattoos in the movies have a storied history, from the simple, classic LOVE/HATE knuckle tattoos in The Night of the Hunter to the slick and sexy additions to Angelina Jolie's existing body art in last summer's Wanted. Recent movies like The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Eastern Promises have used tattoos to great effect; in Button, Captain Mike's homemade tattoos both referred to his life on the sea as a sailor, which in that era was the most visible tattoo population, and his own father's discouragement of his hopes of becoming an artist. Instead, he brings his art with him everywhere he goes. And Eastern Promises based its tattoos (hello, Viggo in his undies sipping a shot of vodka getting tattooed) on the heavily researched Russian tattoos and their different signifiers in the gangster underworld.

Unfortunately, most recent movies have the tendency to slap some crappy tribal on a character to make him or her seem more bad-ass, which, given the context of tattoos in the movies, is kind of understandable. But what's not is just how freaking terrible they are! Here are my personal picks of the worst ink spilled onscreen, plus a bonus mention for the most gorgeous tattoos in a movie, both in design and story use.

Long before I became a mega-wealthy movie blogger, I worked as (sort of) a social worker in downtown Philadelphia. During one (very) lazy Friday afternoon, I decided I was going to leave work early and go see a movie ... which partially explains why I don't have that particular job anymore. The only new movie available to me was something called Strangeland, and that film held some appeal for two distinct reasons: 1. It was a horror movie, and we all know how I feel about horror movies, and 2. The movie starred (and was written by) Dee Snider, the Twisted Sister rocker who dove into hardcore horror moviemaking long before Rob Zombie made it cool.

I wish I could say I really enjoyed Strangeland, but that would be a lie. I did find it a creatively (and aggressively) nasty tale about a killer who stalks his young victims by way of the internet, but mostly I found it pretty amateurish and rather dull in between the nasty bits. The flick does offer some early work from gals like Linda Cardellini and Amy Smart, plus it's also got Robert Englund, and he's always a treat -- so if you're a gorehound who's never seen Strangeland then I'd call it certainly worthy of a rental. (Lionsgate will be releasing an Extended Version DVD of Strangeland this July, and I'll be happy to give the freaky flick a second chance when that DVD arrives.)

So I told you all that just so I could tell you this: Mr. Snider (who recently reacquired the Strangeland rights after a rather drawn-out legal battle with the original flick's production company) is planning to revisit "Captain Howdy" in Strangeland 2: Disciple. Guess he figured he was a few years ahead of the "torture porn" curve when the first Strangeland hit the screens, but now with Rob Zombie, Eli Roth and the various Saw-makers churning out some joyously harsh horror, the time is just right for a Strangeland sequel.

• Bloodrayne - Teutonic terror Uwe Boll directs movies no more than gravity directs objects to Earth. His grasp of pithy things like story and character development is nearly non-existent, and his penchant for adapting video games has earned him a reputation as a sort of idiot savant (only without the savant part), kind of like if the kid on the porch in Deliverance only knew how to play the riff that Vanilla Ice nicked from Queen's "Under Pressure". His latest, a shameless Blade ripoff about a half-human, half-vampire avenger (Kristianna Loken), is miscast, barely written and staged with the skill of a spastic with cataracts. Currently residing on the IMDB's Bottom 100 (at #34), it and Boll's rotting body of work have elevated the oeuvre of Ed Wood, whose non-charting Plan 9 From Outer Space was once considered the worst film ever made, to common hack status. At least the inclusion of the free PC version of the Bloodrayne 2 video game will help soothe buyer remorse.
 

One would think that with a name like Wes Craven - his real name, by the way - that a life as a director of horror films would be the man's inescapable fate from the very start. While the 66-year-old Cleveland-born Renaissance man has created some of the most revered films of the modern genre like A Nightmare On Elm Street and the breakout Scream trilogy, there is more to him than that. He studied writing, psychology, philosophy and literature at Wheaton College and Johns Hopkins University, taught college, and did not even start working in the film industry until the age of 31 as a sound editor.

It was in 1971, though, when his path would intersect with that of another future horror legend - Friday the 13th creator Sean S. Cunningham. Their meeting first resulted in the largely forgotten Together, footnoted only because it starred a 19-year-old woman named Marilyn Briggs (who consequently met brothers Artie and Jim Mitchell, who rechristened her Marilyn Chambers and made her a porn icon in Behind The Green Door). However, the collaboration made fellow tyro Cunningham want to work with Craven again. The next year saw the release of the Cunningham-produced, Craven-directed The Last House On The Left, a remake of Swedish titan Ingmar Bergman's The Virgin Spring, believe it or not, a raw and grimy low-budget effort about a pair of murdering rapists who unknowingly hole-up in the house of the parents of one of their victims. The film became a cult favorite and launched Craven's career in movies.

Craven's second film, the savage and effective 1977 survival tale, The Hills Have Eyes, was about a family who, while traversing the desert, encounters a group of inbred maniacs who prey on these seemingly helpless castaways. Nearly three decades later comes the first remake of Craven's own work, with the new version helmed by French it-director Alexandre Aja (High Tension), released in the U.S. on March 10. Craven, who produced the film for Fox's boutique arm Fox Searchlight, was cool enough to call me at home for an impromptu chat. After I insulted his parentage and suggested a scenario in which he couple with a Cheerio (thinking I was being pranked by my friend Eric), I apologized and basked in fanboy glory for the remaining 22 minutes of our phoner.