We here at FEARnet are pretty big fans of director Dave Parker, in particular his feature film 'The Hills Run Red,' which was listed on my"recommended slashers" article from last year. Also, fellow FEARnet contributor Tyler Doupe named Parker one of our favorite underrated filmmakers and so, a lot of genre fans have been curious to check out his latest movie, the mysterious, experimental 'Coldwater' for quite some time now. I've seen it. It's unique, interesting and indie cinema at its finest. And well, if you live in LA, you're in luck!

'Coldwater' will screen for FREE at The Crest Theater located at 1262 Westwood Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90024 this upcoming Thursday, January 9th. You'll want to arrive early. There's a red carpet event starting at 6:45PM. Then at 7:45PM, there will be a special Independent Horror Film Panel moderated by Bloody-Disgusting's Evan Dickson (BD is co-sponsering the event) and featuring Dave Parker, 'Coldwater' star/co-writer Ivan Djurovic, 'Holliston's Adam Green, Darren Lynn Bousman ('Saw 2-4') and producer Adrienne Biddle ('Mockingbird'). The film rolls at 8:30PM.

How do you get free tickets? Easy. Just send an email with your full name to RSVP@nuhofilmfest.com

The NuHo Film Festival is the first on-line film festival celebrating the best in independent cinema. The official website will showcase one movie each day for the remainder of this month. The 'Coldwater' screening is a special event to celebrate the launch of this new film festival. You can get all the details at NuHoFilmFest.com. Don't forget to read our 'Coldwater' interview with Dave Parker & Ivan Djurovic. 

It's always a dicey proposition when a well-known filmmaker "presents" a film they didn't necessarily produce or direct. Usually the "presents" designation is something that occurs long after a film is done, and the producers are able to call in a favor (or throw a few bucks) to someone whose name has a certain degree of film geek credibility. Think of "Quentin Tarantino Presents," for a good example, or perhaps "Wes Craven Presents" for the not-so-good examples. (Nothing against Mr. Craven; I simply prefer the films he actually directs, not "presents.") 

READ FEARnet's PARTNER REVIEWS OF TRAIL OF BLOOD

FEARnet is proud to present brand new fiction from Nightmare Magazine. Once a month, we'll be featuring a story from Nightmare’s current issue. This month's selection is “The Mad Butcher of Plainfield’s Chariot of Death” by Adam Howe. Please tell us what you think and enjoy!

The Mad Butcher of Plainfield’s Chariot of Death

Adam Howe

Gibbons swigged from his hipflask, driving one-handed as he followed the caravan of carny vehicles barreling along the interstate toward tonight’s show. As the booze burned through him, he bared his teeth, glaring in the rearview at the tarp-shrouded shape of the car hooked to his truck.

The damned car was supposed to make his fortune. He’d sunk every last penny into buying it. 1960 should’ve been his year. He should’ve been sunning himself down in Florida by now; instead he was barely eking a living, working the off-season circuit with this third-rate carny. What the hell went wrong?

He couldn’t understand it. He’d always prided himself as having, if not his fingers on the pulse of America, then his hand in her guts. People wanted to see this kind of thing, he’d been sure of it. Psycho had opened big; people had flocked to see it like the stars of Hitch’s next picture—but why settle for a movie when you could see the real thing? The Butcher of Plainfield, Eddie Gein’s car: a bona fide relic of Hitchcock’s Psycho killer. It burned Gibbons’s ass to see that fat, Limey prick hog the limelight that should’ve been his. Fucking movie. Apart from Janet Leigh’s tits, he couldn’t see what all the fuss was about.

Gibbons took another belt from his flask and then capped it. Best save some for later, give him some pep for The Show tonight. He glared in the rearview again. A corner of the tarp had peeled loose from the car and was flapping like a giant batwing. He considered pulling over, tying the tarp back down over the hood. The buckled grille glinted like rusted teeth, as if the car wanted to bite a chunk out of him. But he knew if he stopped, the carny wouldn’t wait for him.

Management was already looking for an excuse to shitcan him. At the last town they played, when the cops shut him down, before Gibbons could even pitch his tent, the operator had warned him he was on his last chance. He’d put on a brave face. “All publicity’s good publicity, right?” Wrong. Dead wrong. And if his luck didn’t change soon, if the car didn’t start showing a profit, Gibbons was out on his ass. The thought terrified him.

The Show was all he knew.

* * * *

He’d joined the carny as a kid, running away from home and a tyrannical mother who, the more he read about the Gein case, the more she reminded him of Eddie’s own hellfire-and-brimstone-spouting mother. The similarities ended there, Gibbons was relieved to know. Unlike Gein, Bonaparte “Bunny” Gibbons was no mama’s boy, far from it. And for all his kinks—just ask the gals in the cootch-tent—he’d never felt the urge to pay tribute to Ma by robbing graves and wearing the skins of the dead.

He was a natural carny. He served his apprenticeship hawking a mouse circus, before graduating—gravitating, you might say—to the freak show. He climbed quickly through the ranks. Wasn’t long before he was working up front of the tent, hustling the rubes with empty promises of the wonders and oddities to be jeered at inside. His goatee, top hat, cloak, and cane lent him the rakish appearance of a debauched Colonel Sanders. No carny alive could part a fool from his money like Bunny Gibbons.

The freak show was good to him. Those were happy days.

But after the war—first the Big One, then Korea—Gibbons sensed the freak show’s days were numbered. Too many husbands, fathers, and sons had returned from “Over There” missing arms, legs, and even faces. The freak show had come home to America, and suddenly no one wanted to pay admission to see it. Not a man to rest on his laurels, Gibbons ditched the freaks without a backward glance and started looking around for his next meal ticket.

And then, about the same time Eddie Gein was caught hanging some broad by a butcher’s hook in his woodshed, Ma kicked the bucket and left him a small inheritance. Gibbons couldn’t believe his luck; her timing was perfect. When the Gein story exploded across the press, splattering the front pages with grave-robbing and cannibalism and flayed-flesh women-suits, Hitchcock wasn’t the only guy who smelled a buck.

* * * *

Gein’s estate went to auction to pay for his trial; Gibbons moved quick and hit the road. Arriving in Plainfield, Wisconsin—that aptly-named hicktown in the asshole of nowhere—he checked into a motel under an a/k/a. Kept a low profile, dressed down, not his usual snazzy duds. The grieving families of Gein’s victims weren’t his worry, didn’t even enter his thoughts; no, he was afraid some other showman might have the same bright idea and beat him to the punch.

Because it was inspired: he was going to use Ma’s inheritance to buy Ed Gein’s house of horrors, open America’s greatest spookhouse. Disneyland from hell. The freak show wasn’t dead. Gibbons only had to see the rubberneckers at a road wreck, or the looky-loos at a suicide leap, to know it. People’s tastes don’t change, especially their prurient interests; they just become more refined.

Day before the auction, the Gein house burned to the ground. Electrical fault, the fire chief said. Funny, Gibbons thought, considering the place didn’t have electricity; he knew a torch-job when he saw one. Ignorant fucking hayseeds. There went his spookhouse, up in flames, along with Bunny’s dreams.

But the auction went ahead anyway, and he stuck around. There were still acres of farmland to sell; tools, junk farming equipment . . .

And Ed Gein’s car.

A beat-to-hell ’49 Ford sedan. When the auctioneers rolled her out, Gibbons thought that the car—splintered left headlamp, right side of the grille twisted up in a smirk—seemed to ape the fool’s grin and droopy eye of its owner. Maybe Ed had clipped a tombstone on one of his nighttime boneyard jaunts? Even if it wasn’t true, Gibbons could use that in his act. The old Ford had clearly ridden some road in its time. The body was dented, the running board buckled. The scab-maroon paint was spattered with rust. Inside, it smelled like a dead skunk. The leather seats were torn, spewing horsehair and busted springs like weeds. A real piece of shit clunker.

But Gibbons saw a chariot of glittering gold. This was it: what he’d been looking for. The big one. No matter what it cost—the whole of Ma’s inheritance, nearly a thousand clams—he had to have her.

As he made the winning bid, the whopping fee raised eyebrows and concerns among the Plainfield yokels. They had feared that a man like Bonaparte Gibbons would arrive to exploit their grief.

But he was just getting started.

* * * *

The carnival pitched tent on a hill above town, working fast to beat nightfall and be ready for the rubes. The bruised sky threatened rain. Gibbons prayed tonight wasn’t a washout. He started setting up his stall on the outskirts of The Show. No more midway for Bunny Gibbons. He’d been relegated next to the conveniences, where he’d be lucky if some schmo glanced his way as he went to take a leak, and the wafting smell from the latrines only reminded him of his career.

He unhooked the Ford from the back of his truck and began pitching the black, canvas tent over it. The tent was adorned with grisly illustrations of Gein’s house of horrors, drawn in the style of the lurid pulp magazines that Gein had loved. Weird Tales from the Crypt, or some happy horseshit. Spidery writing screamed:

LOOK!

The Butcher of Plainfield, Wisconsin!

Grave-robbing and murder!

SEE!

The crimes that shocked the nation!

The Ed Gein Ghoul Car

that hauled the dead from their graves!

When the movie came out, Gibbons added a new sign:

The REAL ‘Psycho’ killer!

Hitchcock-approved!

For all the good it did.

Bunny entered the tent and set up inside. He hung a few rubber bats and fake cobwebs from the ceiling. The inner walls of the tent were painted with tombstones and zombie-walking skeletons. He couldn’t claim credit for the charnel smell that choked the tent; that came free with the car, and no amount of air-freshener would shift it. He jammed a battered wax dummy into the driver’s seat. The dummy was dressed in Gein’s trademark plaid jacket and deer hunter’s cap, its face carved with a lopsided fool’s grin and one droopy eye, just like Ed’s. On the passenger seat, Gibbons placed a shovel and crowbar: Eddie’s grave-robbing tools. Strewn across the backseat—the side window was smeared with a bloody handprint—was a rubble of rubber bones and skulls from a novelty store.

Okay, so maybe it was a little half-assed. More Ed Wood than Al Hitchcock. But the real showstopper was in the trunk, where Gibbons had rigged a hidden speaker system, and a puppet skeleton on fishing wire. Toward the end of his spiel—he’d paint a vivid picture of Gein driving home from the cemetery, the Ghoul Car heaped with grisly keepsakes—he’d be interrupted by a strange scratching sound from inside the trunk . . . like fingernails clawing at the metalwork. Acting uneasy to shake up the crowd, Gibbons would approach the trunk hesitantly, mopping the sweat from his brow before he extended a trembling hand to open it—

And when the trunk clanged open, the skeleton would rear up, shrieking hellishly.

Folks just about shit themselves.

Forget about The Shower Scene. Hitch would’ve been green with envy . . .

So, where did it all go wrong? He still remembered opening night, the first time he’d shown off the car. The way the rubes had screamed when the skeleton popped out of the trunk, he thought he’d hit paydirt. Instead, his luck plain turned to shit.

Every gig the carny played, the cops and outraged parent groups shut him down, citing bullshit charges of public immorality. Like Gibbons was some kind of monster, not a trailblazing entrepreneur; the way they carried on you’d have thought Eddie himself had busted out of the nuthouse to roll up in town. We’ve got to protect the children, they’d say. What a crock! The kids were always first in line to pay their two-bits.

The other carnies didn’t care for the cops sniffing ‘round. There’s a lot of stuff that goes on behind-the-tents Johnny Law doesn’t know about, and they aimed to keep it that way. And, as any carny will tell you, shit luck is contagious.

Gibbons soon became a pariah. Just him and Ed’s car.

On the rare occasions he caught a break—got to show off the car without the cops busting his balls—the bad luck kept coming. The tent would collapse in the middle of his spiel. The trunk-lid would jam, or the hidden speakers refused to play. No one could stomach the car’s slaughterhouse stink; kids cried, pregnant women’s waters broke, fat guys puked up their beer and corndogs. One time the car’s handbrake unlocked, and the Ford rolled back over some poor schmuck’s foot; funny thing, the car hadn’t even been parked on a grade.

Even Gibbons, a stone-cold skeptic, started to think there was something hinky about the car. The way the doors would swing shut by themselves, catching his fingers if he didn’t move his hands quick enough; or how the horn would blare at night like a wolf howling at the moon, keeping Gibbons and the other carnies awake. Word began spreading that the car was cursed. Maybe, Gibbons thought. Or maybe it was Ma showing her disapproval of his investment from beyond the grave.

Gibbons told himself that was crazy thinking. No better than Eddie Gein himself. But how else to explain the night that the car radio—which the auctioneer had said was broken—hissed to life and played Shall We Gather at the River, the hymn that was playing at Ma’s funeral? It had raked up such unexpectedly painful memories of Ma in her casket, Bunny was shocked to find himself blubbering like a baby, weeping alone under his ghoulish carnival tent. He remembered Ma’s note that came with his inheritance: Spend it wisely, the terse note had said; I suspect you won’t.

A boy’s best friend is his mother, my ass.

* * * *

Night cloaked the carny, and the townsfolk came out. So did the rain, announcing a storm that swept across the hill. The walls of the tent billowed in the wind, as if the car was alive and breathing within. Rain needled Gibbons’s top hat as he paraded outside the tent, twirling his cane and barking to be heard above the rumble of thunder.

“Here it is, folks! The crime that shocked the nation! You read about it in Life magazine! You saw it in Psycho! Now see The Ed Gein Ghoul Car for yourself! The Mad Butcher of Plainfield’s chariot of death! Just twenty-five cents!” Nobody paid him any mind; few people even heard him above the storm.

Later that night, the carny operator came by Gibbons’s lonely, rain-sodden pitch and found him slumped in despair, not even bothering to hide his hipflask anymore.

“I’m sorry it’s come to this, Bonaparte,” the man told him. And then he scowled at the painted tent, at the illustration of Gein poking his head from a ransacked grave, and shook his head in disgust. “What the hell were you thinking, man?” He wandered away toward the colors and lights of The Show.

“People wanna see this kinda thing!” Gibbons shouted after him, but the man was gone.

Lurching to his feet, Gibbons staggered inside the tent, pulling the door-flap closed behind him. An oil-lantern, hanging on a hook, flickered dimly in the gloom. Glaring at the car, Gibbons guzzled the dregs of his hooch, and then hurled the empty flask at the driver’s side window, fracturing the glass and his own haggard reflection. Breathing heavily, choking back the tears, he sank to his knees. That’s it, he decided; he’d get rid of the damn thing. He should’ve done it months ago. Sell it to some sucker, or just dump it in a fucking swamp—

Lightning flashed suddenly and Gibbons started as he saw the silhouetted figures of a crowd gathered outside the tent.

He frowned at the car. The buckled grille grinned at him, the splintered left headlamp winking in the lantern-light. He poked his head gingerly outside the tent—expecting the cops, or a posse of outraged yokels ready to ride him out of town on a rail—blinking in surprise at the crowd that was gathered outside in the dark. They were wearing their finest Sunday clothes. Some of the men wore flowers in the breast pockets of their suits; the women wore fancy hats with veils. A little highfalutin for a third-rate carny, Gibbons thought, but he wasn’t complaining; he hadn’t worked a crowd this big in months. With a sweeping flourish of his top hat, he ushered the crowd inside the tent. They shuffled past him, whispering excitedly, their hushed voices rasping like dry autumn leaves.

Gibbons pulled down the lantern from where it was hanging. The shadow-cloaked crowd packed tightly around him, as if seeking warmth from the sputtering flame. It had grown cold in the tent, all of a sudden; Gibbons could see his breath frosting in front of him. Time to warm ’em up!

He started his spiel the same way he always did: straight for the jugular, no fucking around. Between the news reports and the movie, everyone knew the story already; what they wanted was the details, to the last dripping drop.

“The missing woman was found hanging by her heels in the woodshed,” he gravely intoned, “butchered clean like a hog, her entrails filling the tub that was placed beneath the ragged stump of her neck. Her head was inside the house . . . with the others.”

The crowd was ghostly silent, holding its breath as Gibbons inventoried Gein’s house of horrors like a realtor from hell. The women’s heads mounted on the walls like withered trophies, all lovingly dolled up in lipstick and rouge. The Nazi-style skin-lampshades; the seats upholstered from flesh. The human organs and cutlets of meat chilling in the refrigerator. The noses and ears preserved in jars; the lady parts floating in formaldehyde like brown clumps of seaweed. Hanging in Gein’s closet was the crudely tailored suit of flesh, complete with leggings and sagging female breasts, which Eddie would wear like rotting lingerie, shambling around the derelict farmhouse in ghoulish emulation of his dear departed mother . . .

It was Bunny’s greatest performance; he was killing it, flinging blood ‘n’ guts at the speechless crowd like a zoo-house monkey slinging shit. He’d been right all along: people did want to see this kind of thing. He’d just needed the right crowd to get his mojo back. Now his luck would turn around, he could feel it. To hell with management. He’d find another carny someplace. Folks like these who appreciated his talents. But first, tonight, he’d celebrate; buy a fresh bottle of booze, maybe half an hour with Peggy from the cootch-tent—things were looking up at last.

“And here it is, folks . . .” he hissed in the quiet of the tent. “The very car that Gein was driving on his grave-robbing raids . . . piling it high with human remains to take home and decorate his house . . . or a fresh dead body to warm his bed.”

The crowd shuffled closer. Gibbons raised his lantern to give them a better view. In the flickering flame, the skeletons on the tent walls seemed to dance among the crowd: an unsettling effect Gibbons had never noticed before. The pressing bodies closed tightly around him. A few flies had skipped the cover charge, he noticed, buzzing above their heads.

Christ, it reeked something terrible in the tent tonight. Even Gibbons, by now quite used to the smell of the car, felt heady on the fetid fumes. The crowd wasn’t helping matters; didn’t anyone take a bath in this town? They jostled him back against the car.

“Take it easy, folks.” He forced a chuckle. “Everyone’ll get a look-see.”

The sound of scratching fingernails echoed suddenly from the trunk, startling Gibbons more than the crowd. The cue was early—damned car—but he went with it, like a pro. Didn’t want to spoil the showstopper. “What the heck is that?” He feigned surprise, hamming it up. “Excuse me, folks, I better go check . . .”

The crowd made no move to clear his path. Strange bunch; they seemed more interested in him than the car, surrounding him like he was the attraction. He clapped the arm of the man in front of him to gently steer him aside . . .

. . . and gave a little cry of disgust as his hand sank into rotting fabric and soft flesh. He looked about at the shadowy crowd, gagging at the sickly-sweet stench, suddenly filled with a terrible suspicion.

The room lurched around him like one of the carny rides. His legs turned to Slinkys. He staggered against the car, propping his hand on the tail to steady himself, and felt something clawing and thumping inside the trunk. He tried to remember if he’d even set up the speakers, but it was hard to think clearly while the thing thumped and clawed, and instead of throwing open the trunk for the showstopper, now he held the lid down, fighting to keep it closed.

Whatever was inside the trunk, it was important he didn’t see it. Everything else could be explained away. In the cold light of day, and with enough booze inside him, he’d find a rational explanation. Just as long as he didn’t see it.

And then the car radio hissed to life, Shall We Gather at the River crackling out, the voices of the choir horribly distorted, as if they were singing at the bottom of the river. He pictured Ma’s empty casket, and suddenly he didn’t need to see to know what was inside the trunk, thumping and clawing.

He looked pleadingly at the crowd.

“Th-that’s all now, folks,” he wheezed. “Show’s over . . .”

But the crowd loomed from the shadows toward him. In the guttering flame of the lantern, shaking wildly in his hand, he saw the lichen-green pallor of their faces, the withered hollows of their eyes, the lips rotted away to snarling grins. He lurched back in horror, his hand slipping from the trunk. The lock clicked open. The lid groaned up with a belch of foul air.

And as the rotten, writhing hag reached out, dragging him down into a maternal embrace, Bunny Gibbons gave a show-stopping scream.

[end]

- - - 

Nightmare Magazine is edited by bestselling anthology editor John Joseph Adams (Wastelands, The Living Dead). This story first appeared in the Nightmare’s January 2014 issue, which also features original fiction by Tim Pratt (“Ghostreaper, or, Life After Revenge”), along with reprints by Lucy Taylor (“Walled”) and Jonathan Maberry (“Whistlin’ Past the Graveyard”). We also have the latest installment of our column on horror, “The H Word,” plus author spotlights with our authors, a showcase on our cover artist, and a feature interview with author Christopher Golden. You can wait for the rest of this month's contents to be serialized online, or you can buy the whole issue right now in convenient eBook format for just $2.99. It's a great issue, so be sure to check it out. And while you're at it, tell a friend about Nightmare!

Earlier this week, 'Cassadaga,' the new feature film from director Anthony DiBlasi was released on DVD just under the radar. However, it's a new horror film that absolutely should be on your radar. Why? Not only did I name it one of my Top 10 horror films of 2013, but it's a truly unique genre film that combines a tradition ghost story with a serial killer named "Geppetto," who literally pulls his victims apart limb from limb just to put them back together as a human marionette. It stars Kelen Coleman, 'True Blood's Kevin Alejandro & if you're playing close attention, you'll also spot genre vet J. LaRose ('Insidious,' 'Saw III') in there too. There's a lot of weird & wild stuff in the flick, so you need to find it and check it out ASAP. (It's also available on VOD right now.)

Here's a fun treat. We've been provided with a 12 minute behind-the-scenes featurette chronicling the making of 'Cassadaga' that is not on the DVD! Fair warning, this is pretty spoiler-heavy, so if you've seen the movie, proceed. If not, I'd recommend bookmarking this page until after you've seen it since the movie's full of some good twists and surprises. You can check out Scott Weinberg's review of 'Cassadaga,' and check out the 'Cassadaga' trailer on Apple's site. Below enjoy an in-depth look at the making-of 'Cassadaga!'
 

My preferred way of opening a review of a sequel is to quickly run through the whole franchise, just to bring us all to to speed and perhaps offer some perspective in regard to the latest chapter. But at this point the Paranormal Activity quartet just sort of congeals together into a blob that feels like Part 1 (with a lamer ending than I saw) followed by three similar films that all have their moments of creepiness, cleverness, creativity ... and talking. Lots and lots of talking. But what comes next after Paranormal Activity (2007), Paranormal Activity 2 (2010), Paranormal Activity 3 (2011), and Paranormal Activity 4 (2012)? Why, Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones, of course. A franchise isn't a franchise these days unless it's spewing out sequels *and* spinoffs.

But the movie is what matters, obviously, and if Blumhouse/Paramount want to keep giving me another "found footage" ghost story every year (this year we'll actually get two), I'm more than happy to devote 90 minutes to keep the relationship flourishing. And hey, get this: "The Marked Ones" might just be the coolest film in the series apart from the original Paranormal Activity!  As a "spin-off" it only briefly connects to the other films -- although the established fans will enjoy the way it does so -- and, to its credit, The Marked Ones heads off in its own direction.

(And don't ask me to explain how The Marked Ones ties in to the other ParanormalActivity movies. Those puzzle pieces are fun to discover on your own.)

Judged as its own beast, The Marked Ones is a nifty little "first-person" (aka found footage) horror flick / occult thriller about two recent high school graduates who discover that their creepy downstairs neighbor is a horrible witch of some variety. Eventually a murder takes place in the apartment complex, and that's when Jesse (Andrew Jacobs), Hector (Jorge Diaz), and Marisol (Gabrielle Walsh) discover that there's some seriously freaky behavior afoot. Ghosts? Witches? Demonic possession that allows its "victims" to experience fleeting spurts of super powers? Try "all of the above," and for a flick so simple in the way it delivers its character development, plot exposition, and basic first-act cliches, there's also a good deal of creepy craftsmanship on display here.

Writer/director Christopher Landon (a longtime producer on the franchise) gets through the plot stuff and character essentials with a noteworthy degree of energy and humor (the two lead actors certainly help), and when he focuses on the infinitely more appealing sequences involving shocks and suspense, he seems to be having some real fun with his horror flick. I don't care if a movie is a sequel, a remake, a rip-off, or a spin-off; if it seems evident that the director is having some fun during the "scary bits," there's a good chance that their enthusiasm will bleed out into the audience.

As mentioned, those who adore this whole series will enjoy the "easter egg"-style scenes that pop up once in a while (and the final scene is sort of a mind-bendingly weird treat), but those who are looking for a solid if unspectacular piece of found footage horror cinema, Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones should fit the bill nicely. The scary stuff works, the characters are actually pretty likable, and the franchise mythology is given its fair due ...without overdoing it.

READ FEARnet's PARTNER REVIEWS OF PA: THE MARKED ONES

Grimm Episode 309
“Red Menace”
Written By: Alan DiFiore
Directed By: Allan Kroeker
Original Airdate: 3 January 2014

In This Episode…

A Russian faith healer named Boris has rolled into Portland to offer his services. He is something of a celebrity amongst the Russian population. He lays hands on the ill and takes away their suffering, and wants no money in return. This isn’t some act; Boris is sincere, but each heal takes a toll on him. Of course, he is also a philanderer (and he doesn’t try to hide it) which does not sit well with his wife Olga. 

The family of Boris’ most recent patient holds a celebratory dinner in his honor at a local Russian restaurant. Boris excuses himself to the bathroom, where he is set upon by a man named Alex. The men fight, and Alex withdraws a switchblade. Boris is cut, which enrages him. His eyes glow green, his hands get glowy and translucent, and a sudden burst of energy sends Alex out the window. Boris returns to the party while Alex returns to his motel. His skin is starting to blister where Boris held him. He makes a phone call to a mystery person, professing his love and apologizing for failing.

Portland police are called in when, the next day, the sous chef discovers the body of a waiter in the walk-in freezer. Hank and Nick’s investigation shows that Alex killed the waiter to steal his uniform so he could sneak in to attack Boris. But they suspect Alex is working with a partner, so Boris isn’t safe. Alex, meanwhile, is getting worse. The blistering pustules have spread over his whole body, and he is just a walking pile of gross. Housekeeping comes in and discovers him, dead and bloated in an overflowing bathtub. Nick, Hank, and Wu come in, as does the department of public health, who fear they are dealing with radiation poisoning. Sure enough, their Geiger counters are going crazy. Alex is not actually dead; he lurches forward and clings to Hank - who gets freaked out. He is taken to quarantine, while the guys are checked - they are radiation free.

Between Nick, Renard, Monroe, and Aunt Marie’s books, the guys figure out that Boris is a koschie, a Russian wesen who can heal or kill. Boris used to use his talent as an assassin for the Russian government. He killed with radiation poisoning, and no one could figure out how he did it. Now he uses his healing power in hopes of finding absolution. The guys bring Boris in for “questioning” but Boris is very forthcoming about his past. If someone comes to kill him, he won’t fight it.

Back at home (or the home where he and Olga are staying while in town), Boris and Olga fight. He wants her to go back to Russia; she wants him to stop whoring around. His answer to that is to grab a bottle of vodka and the pretty maid and chase her upstairs into the bedroom. Now, the vodka has been spiked by unseen hands, and we are supposed to think it is Olga, but it wasn’t - it was the maid, and she is annoyed that, after downing half the bottle of vodka, Boris still isn’t dead. She reveals that Alex is her brother, and Boris killed their father when she was only 10 years old. Boris begs her forgiveness and swears he is not the same man he once was. The maid takes no comfort in this and stabs him with a pair of scissors.

Nick, Hank and Renard show up. They have figured out what is going on and are there to make sure nothing bad is going down. Clearly, they are a little late. Boris and the maid come downstairs; Olga is enraged at seeing her husband injured and shifts into whatever kind of wesen she is. I don’t recognize it, but she has tusks and uses one to gore the maid. Renard tries to stop the bleeding but the injury is too severe. Boris creeps over and with his last bit of strength heals her. This kills Boris.

Also: Juliette’s friend Alicia is being abused by her husband. She finally gets the strength to leave, and Nick and Juliette are happy to take her in. Nick learns Alicia is a fuchsbau but doesn’t tell Juliette. Towards the end of the episode, Joe the husband tracks Alicia to Portland. He sits in his car watching the house, and changes into an enrage wesen (I don’t recognize the kind).

Dig It or Bury It?

This episode reminded me of an episode of Friday the 13th: The Series (my favorite TV show of all time). The episode dealt with a man who positioned himself as a faith healer. He had a glove that could heal, but he must pass on the illness to another person or succumb to it himself. Like Grimm, the victims would all get these ghastly, bubbling pustules that would take over their body and kill them. 

Big Bad…

…Koschie. A Russian wesen, the koschie have the ability to both kill and heal. When they kill, it is done by passing on radiation poisoning. This likely explains the koschie’s appearance: their skin goes translucent, and their eyes and veins glow a radioactive green. They are difficult to kill because of their ability to heal. Rasputin, the Mad Monk, was a koschie. 

Prophecies?

Wesen are forming street gangs and terrorizing Portland.

Dracula Episode 107
“Servant to Two Masters”
Written By: Rebecca Kirsch
Directed By: Brian Kelly
Original Airdate: 3 January 2014

In This Episode…

The nickel-steel alloy seems to have done the trick, and Grayson is ready for a public demonstration of his wireless electricity machine. Van Helsing has gotten the daylight serum to be effective for up to four hours now, which allows Grayson to take a walk in the park with Mina - then visit Jayne and screw her brains out. Grayson has decided to turn his back on his vampirism. He tells a worried Van Helsing that he doesn’t need to feed, and refuses to be a slave to his inhuman desires.

Mina wants to do something to lift the spirits of the patients at the sanitarium. Grayson suggests having a dance, something which Mina’s father is against. He relents, so long as she doesn’t spend a dime from the hospital’s budget. She uses flowers from the garden to decorate and asks Grayson to borrow his Victrola. Though Grayson can’t attend the dance - it is at the same time as his demonstration - he does better than provide a Victrola - he provides a full string symphony. As he tries to duck out, Mina chases after him and insists that he dance with her. Jonathan never showed up (though he promised he would) and there is no one there to see. He relents, and they come dangerously close to kissing - instead, Grayson nuzzles her neck and tries to fight back his hunger. Her cross catches in the light, stinging him, and Grayson runs off to his demonstration.

Browning, meanwhile, paid off the police chief to poison the local milk supply. The people who live near Grayson’s machine end up becoming very sick, which gives the police cause to shut down Grayson’s demonstration and confiscate his machine, saying it is a threat to public health. Grayson is understandably furious, so later that night he succumbs to his hunger and feeds on the police chief.

Jonathan had a good reason for not showing up to Mina’s dance: the Order of the Dragon kidnapped him. They want him to join their order, but don’t mention the whole “vampire” thing. Instead, Browning (the only one of the Order who made his identity known) wants him to help plot against the Ottoman Empire. They are sitting on a “sea of oil” and Britain must gain control of it. Browning actually describes this as a holy war. Jonathan points out that Grayson’s technology will make the need for oil obsolete; Browning brushes him off by saying it is all gimmickry. Jonathan has been a bit disillusioned by Grayson after he discovered that Grayson was the one who fabricated the General Shaw story, but as of now he remains in Grayson’s employ and has no answer for the Order. He does apologize to Mina for missing her dance, but by this point Mina is clearly starting to fall for Grayson.

Renfield is dispatched to Budapest, where a painting that once belonged to him was going up for auction. He waits until the last minute, then swoops in with a million-pound bid. Renfield watches carefully as it is packaged and sealed in a small wooden box, but he doesn’t leave with it immediately. Instead, he hides it behind a huge bureau in his room. When he comes back and sees a maid in there, he dismisses her with a glance at her cleaning cart, then checks: his package is still behind the bureau. Of course, when he gets home and Grayson tears into the package, the painting had been replaces by a block of wood. The maid was employed by Davenport, and she successfully delivers the painting to him. Unsurprisingly, the painting is of Dracula’s beloved wife - but to Davenport, it just looks like Mina. Scandalous. 

Lucy is despondent over being rebuffed by Mina. Jayne soothes her with passionate kisses and promises to teach her the art of seduction. Not for Mina, but for Jonathan, to lure him away and break Mina’s heart, perhaps even driving her into Lucy’s arms. 

Dig It or Bury It?

I liked this episode, but I don’t know why. There was nothing revelatory or exciting or game-changing about this episode. It was just a pleasant hour of television. But I am enjoying how everything is getting more entwined and kind of soapy.

Prophecies?

Jonathan accuses Mina of being in love with Grayson, and the Order hears rumors that the legendary Dracula is in their fair city. Plus, there are people on spikes. Nifty.

In Joshua Waller’s Raze, superstar stuntwoman Zoe Bell goes in front of the camera again to play Sabrina, a prisoner in an underground fight club made up entirely of captive women. Overseen by a maniacal pair (the marvelously-cast Doug Jones and Sherilyn Fenn), Sabrina has to fight her fellow captives to the death or watch her loved ones be killed instead. Waller and Bell’s film had its Windy City premiere at the Chicago International Film Festival and the pair sat down to talk about their grindhouse flick, the balance of extreme violence within it, and the importance of a little movie called Kill Bill.

FEARnet: Can you speak a little bit about the importance of film festivals in bringing a movie like this to an audience?

Zoe Bell: They’re key. They’re the lifeline for movies like this. Movies like this being movies that can’t afford to promote on billboards, TV, etc. Also, I feel like the film festival world is such that no matter the genre of the film festival, film festival goers are the sort of breed of person – the movie lover. You go to Fantasia Fest and, obviously, there are genre fans, but you bump into the same sort of people, same journalists, people in the circuit, filmmakers, fans – you meet other filmmakers that kind of help. I think it’s the lifeline, especially in a day and age when you need a BIG amount of money to compete. Word of mouth being so prevalent with the internet and social media – this is where it starts. If you get the people who are WATCHING films to love it than who gives a shit with the critics think? 

Joshua Waller: It pays off. Not only the film festivals but us traveling. Raze is actually playing at Sitges tonight. We wanted to go but we couldn’t but I think it’s important to try and make every festival that you can, no matter how small it might be. “That one’s too small.” Forget about the size of it. Someone out there gravitated toward something that YOU made and thought it great enough to be a part of something that they’re going to put on and promote their own product. That means a lot. “Thank you. In return for doing this for us, we will do our best to come and promote your festival in addition to promoting our film.”

Do you guys like Q&As? Do you like talking about your work with audiences?

Zoe Bell:  I LOVE Q&As.

This is such an in-your-face film, have you had any unusual responses in Q&As?

Zoe Bell: There have been plenty but I love that too. We were hoping to polarize. Rather polarize than…

Joshua Waller: Ambivalence. I want people to walk out of the theater and I want them to either love it or hate it. I don’t want any in between. If they love it or they hate it, they’re going to talk about it. If they just go “meh”?

Zoe Bell: Also, if we made a movie about women brutally killing each other and they went “meh”?!?! It either makes them a serial killer or we REALLY fucked it up. I think also with the film festivals, the joy we’ve had with social media, there’s something to be said for a personal connection. People give a SHIT. People connect with me and now want to watch the film that might not have ever wanted to see women killing each other, necessarily. I love DVD extras. I love when I would watch outtakes. It made me love things more when I see the human side of who’s involved. Festivals are the best way to do it.

Some of the questions…One was in Aruba, where this woman says, “I just have one question – I just want to know why you had to be so aggressive?” We were like, “Well, the subject matter kind of calls for women to slaughter other women – aggression is just kind of part of the parcel, really.” I didn’t feel the need to be snarky. And it wasn’t like I was offended. We were just kind of like, “It would be, um, hard to do it with no aggression.” 

The dialogue version of Raze.

Joshua Waller:“Stop, stop. No. No. Don’t touch me. Stop.

Zoe Bell: “Stop it. Stop it!”

You just insult each other for 90 minutes.

Joshua Waller:“Is that REALLY your hair?”

Zoe Bell: “Really?!?! THAT is how you’re going to wear those track pants?”

Let’s talk aggression. Was there ever a point where you worried that you did push it too far in terms of violence and gore?

Zoe Bell: We did during shooting. There were times when someone would be like, “She should pull her leg off and hit her over the head.” “Yeah, we don’t need to go that far.” So there were definitely those conversations.

Joshua Waller:I don’t think that was between us though. 

Zoe Bell: Kenny. Kenny always wants more blood.

Joshua Waller: Kenny, our producing partner on this, doesn’t count. Anyone who knows Kenny Gage knows he’s a sick fuck. He’s the best guy you could meet but yeah.

Zoe Bell: That’s the brilliant thing – the line we found was finding each other in the middle.

You guys do find a balance. It’s not torture porn.

Joshua Waller: If we were going to show any graphic violence, we were going to be VERY specific about when we did and be sure that it had to do with the storyline and the emotional arc of the film. And it had to look real. And you also don’t need to show too much. The actual gore that we show is SO little and done in brief flashes but the emotional life makes it seem like it’s so much more.

Zoe Bell: It’s the same as when people watch Kill Bill. I get it all the time. “There was SO much blood.” There’s so much blood in that Crazy 88 fight but there’s an element of surrealism to it that allows the audience to keep watching. We do FAR less – like 5 beats of that fight outweighs our whole movie in terms of limb removal – but the emotion behind ours…there’s nothing disguising it.

Joshua Waller: It’s uncomfortable. We try to take the Psycho/Jaws approach – you don’t really see the knife going in or the shark. It’s implied. We tried to imply more often than not. The gore stuff becomes overkill. There’s only so many ways you can kill a person with your bare hands. Even the stuff with punching skulls, that would do a pretty significant amount of damage…

Zoe Bell: You would not be fighting. If you’re breaking bones, your bones are feeling it.

Joshua Waller: You don’t need to see it every time.

Zoe Bell: But I think the times where we did see it, like the first fight, the person who is inflicting the damage is often seeing…the times that we flash to it is what SHE is seeing and experiencing. This is what she’s reacting to this way. That’s why it’s in there. That’s what I’m witnessing happening. When it’s in there, it’s for that effect rather than to just gross the audience out.

Ten years ago yesterday, Kill Bill came out. I’m sure you know that.

Zoe Bell: I didn’t. Kind of freaked out a bit because it means I’ve been living here for ten years. 

Can you speak a little bit about what that did for your career and how important it was?

Zoe Bell: It introduced me to Quentin and it took me out of New Zealand. It was instrumental in massive ways. It took me out of New Zealand and I had never worked outside of New Zealand and it took me into the world of features. It introduced me to Quentin, and I’ve now worked with him on every movie since and he put me in Death Proof, which was my first acting role. It’s made a life for me here. It’s huge. 

I walked into the audition and being like, “Huh, I think that’s Daryl Hannah from Splash. And Ethan Hawke from Reality Bites. Where the FUCK am I right now?” I didn’t see famous people. I didn’t recognize people from movies I’d seen. And I totally had a crush on Ethan Hawke when Reality Bites came out. I remember being like, “He’s on a treadmill with a sweatband. What world am I in? What the Hell? Splash and Reality Bites on treadmills!” It wasn’t like…the only time I was remotely star struck was Tom Cruise because, I mean, hello, come on. But it wasn’t a matter of “Oh my God” more just “What?!?!” It felt like if I was going to be around famous people there should be cotton candy clouds and midgets and unicorns and shit. Somebody should have a martini or something. Now, there are unicorns in my life daily. (Laughs.)

What was the most difficult part of this production?

Zoe Bell: Working with that guy. (Laughs.)

Joshua Waller: The time frame. That’s the biggest issue. The shoot was relatively difficult but it was tough. It put strains on all of our friendships for the time being. Not as artists. When you make a film, you go to battle. This film was a fucking battle. We had to really busy our ass. We had 30 days to shoot 19 action sequences. Frequently, we went over on our days. But, at the end of the day, we look back on it fondly. We can now. That was the biggest issue for us.

Zoe Bell: We working our asses off. We had done a lot of preparation. It was more like, “If we just had a little more time to give to this…” The one fight in the elevator…we decided last minute to do it in the elevator to mix it up and we were like, “Why wouldn’t they start fighting in the elevator? Why would they wait?” We did that fight in the space of about 40 minutes or something. We would have loved to give it half a day. Between she and I, we could have. That could have been the most EPIC fight ever.

Although sometimes those quick shoots give you energy that you wouldn’t get with more time and I see that in the final piece.

Joshua Waller: Oh, I agree. 

Zoe Bell: Don’t get it twisted. The energy would have been there regardless. The reality is though that it would have been a different movie. 

Joshua Waller: Pretty much anyone you would ask, that was our biggest hurdle – time. Time which is connected with budget. We had to do what we had to do. We knew it was ambitious and we knew we would go over and we knew it would be a bitch but we were just like, “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

See what they did when Raze opens in limited release and is available On Demand on January 10, 2014.

"There comes a time in a man's life when he has to put aside his childhood dream of having an Alien costume and actually decides to do something about it."

So begins New York-based artist Mostlymade's most recent project on the website Instructables, which details how he went about making his childhood dream come true, by turning foam board, vacuum cleaner hoses and a bicycle helmet into a Xenomorph costume so impressive that it wouldn't be out of place on the set of an actual Alien sequel.

From the iconic elongated head right down to the deadly tail, the DIY costume is hands down one of the most impressive examples of horror cosplay we've ever seen, a seemingly impossible to pull off creation made possible by the perfect combination of parts, and a whole hell of a lot of work.

Head over to Instructables to see the 17-step process that resulted in this incredible creation, which is guaranteed to make you feel like a lazy bum, no matter how much you've accomplished in your life!

The art of 'papercraft' has become quite popular in this internet age we currently find ourselves in, and it never ceases to amaze me how much can be done with a simple sheet of paper.  Though I myself possess no artistic skills whatsoever, my toy shelf is nevertheless adorned with all sorts of awesome papercraft creations, printed out images of folks like Freddy Krueger and Trick 'r Treat's Sam that even I was able to fold into three-dimensional toys.  Cheap, easy and free - just the way I like it!

If you're a fan of this type of art, and your printer is fully stocked with ink and paper, then you will have an absolute field day over on the website RavensBlight, which is run by artist Ray O'Bannon.  The things Ray is able to do with sheets of paper will absolutely blow your mind, and his projects teach you how to make games, masks and various other fun toys, using only your printer.

Human skeletons, coffin keepsake boxes, monster masks, cemetery playsets, simple pocket monsters and elaborate board games are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Ray's incredible creations, and I can think of no better way to wait for warmer weather than to hang out inside and let him show you how to turn that stack of boring white paper into colorful and creepy toys.  So head over to RavensBlight and get to work!

One of the unsung heroes of TheEvil Dead is Tom Sullivan, whose contributions to the original franchise are quite frankly as important as Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell's.  Sullivan was a makeup effects artist, animator and designer on Evil Dead, Evil Dead 2 and Army of Darkness, and it is he who was responsible for many of the practical effects and props seen in the movies, including the iconic Book of the Dead.

As reported by Fangoria, Sullivan is the subject of an upcoming documentary called Invaluable: The True Story of an Epic Artist, which digs inside the mind of the man who gave us some of the most horrifying and grotesque visuals in horror history.  Providing unprecedented access to Sullivan's workshop, the Ryan Meade-directed documentary will also be jam packed with never-before-seen interviews with cast and crew members, including Bruce Campbell, as well as tours of the filming locations of all three movies.

Invaluable is currently being screened for distribution, and is set to hit the convention circuit sometime this year, with a DVD release to follow.  Learn more on the Facebook page for the doc, and get a sneak peek with the trailer below!

While my DVD collection is filled out with used copies of movies from Amazon, and my toy collection comprised largely of vintage treasures found on eBay, I draw the line at previously owned items that I have to actually wear or sit on.  There's just something about secondhand couches that skeeves me out like nothing else, and I'm willing to bet that a woman named Holly Wright is feeling the same way right about now.

Located in Grand Rapids, Michigan, Wright took home a couch found on the side of the road a few months back, which she thoroughly cleaned and placed in her bedroom.  What she didn't notice, at the time, was that a stowaway snake made its home inside the secondhand sofa.

As reported by The Huffington Post, the woman noticed the four-foot-long python hiding out in the coils of the couch last weekend, which finally emerged and soon thereafter died.  Though Wright by all means should've been horrified at the thought that she had been sitting atop the snake's lair for months, without ever realizing it, it wasn't horror she expressed but rather sadness.  "It's been really sad actually to realize all this time I was in proximity to that animal [and it] was probably suffering," she says.

Wright buried the snake and returned the couch to the curb, a note attached to it reading 'Do Not Pick Up.'

When reached for comment, Samuel L. Jackson told us that he's "had it with these mother f'ing snakes, in these mother f'ing couches."  We're right there with ya on that one, Sam.

The chair creaks as you settle onto it. The candlelight flickers. All around you the ravenous faces of your so-called friends twist in delight as you slowly open the box laid out on the table. Welcome to Dangerous Games! Each week, we'll feature a horror/thriller/monster tabletop game you should be playing. Don't be scared… roll the dice… what's the worst that could happen?

'Rampage' - Piero (2013)

Do you feel that rumbling? Step by step, the city trembles around you. You hear a crash down by the park, sirens wail in the center of town, and plumes of smoke rise from the stadium. With a sudden shock you realize… you're late to the party. With a glass-shattering screech you emerge from the depths of the sea. You're a giant blue lizard monster, and your green, red, and pink lizard monster friends have already begun destroying the city. "No fair," you howl, "wait for me!"

In 'Rampage' two to four players take on the roles of city-destroying monsters attempting to eat the most buildings and people. The game is physical in nature and requires players to actively interact with the game pieces in order to win. In the end players score points for eating certain types of people, in certain arrays, and the highest score wins.

Game Mechanics

The board is set up with thick cardboard tiles as the "floors" and "ceilings" of three story buildings. In between each story four little wooden people (known affectionately as "meeples" in the gaming world) act is pillars to the building. These meeples are the way to score points, and monsters will smash into each other and the city itself to loose them from their hiding places and plop them into their monster bellies.

Each player can do two actions a turn. There is the "move" action, where a small disc representing where the monster is standing is flicked on the table. Wherever it lands, the monster is placed on top of the disk. When near a building players can use the "demolish" action to physically drop their monsters on top of the precariously placed buildings. Players can use the "toss a vehicle" action to flick a vehicle at a building. And finally, players can use the "breath" action, by placing their chin against the top of a monster and blowing, to knock down buildings and blow around their meeples. Once the puny humans have landed in a "neighborhood" you're in, you can gobble them up!

Replay Value

I played this game a few times over the past few weeks and I am dying to play it again. This game begs to be replayed. With lots of different roles for your characters, different goals for your characters, and different ways to win the game this will keep people coming back to the table. But we're not really interested in the strategy of this game… let's be real. We just want to smash buildings and use our fire breath to ruin this city!

Overall Impressions

This game made it into my best of 2013 list for a reason. This is one of the most innovative, exciting, silly games I've played in a long time. Great for families, giant monster movie lovers, and pretty much anyone else, 'Rampage' is a serious crowd pleaser. The feel of actually smashing buildings is addicting and you and your friends will find yourself coming back to 'Rampage' over and over. Go find this game right away, you won't be disappointed.

Photographer Jules Annan snapped the above shot of London's Palace of Westminster this past New Year's Eve, and though nobody was in sight of his lens at the time, the image doesn't quite reflect that.  Standing on Westminster Bridge, overlooking the Thames River, a transparent figure wearing jeans and a red and white jacket can clearly be seen gazing at the beautifully lit-up building, and Annan firmly believes that it's a case of paranormal activity.

A professional photographer, Annan says he's never seen anything like this before, and can think of no camera issues that could've possibly resulted in such an image.  As reported by Mirror, UK paranormal investigator Lee Roberts agrees that the photograph can't be explained by camera error or image tampering, and he too believes that a ghost truly has been captured by Annan's camera.  Though the modern day clothes the 'ghost' is wearing would lead you to believe that the photo is of questionable authenticity, Roberts notes that ghosts from all different periods of time roam the Earth, from Victorian times to the present day.

What do you think?  Did Annan capture a real ghost on camera?  Or is there a much less paranormal explanation?  Comment below and let us know!

The website/online shop Skullis specializes in carved skulls of all types, from gorgeous display pieces to wearable necklaces, bracelets and rings.  Categories within the shop range from 'Alien Skulls' to 'Super Realistic Skulls,' but hands down the most stunning pieces can be found in the 'Geode/Druse Skulls' section of the site.  Though I must warn you right off the bat that falling in love with any of these beautiful hand-carved creations is going to be an incredibly costly affair!

A whopping 16 pages of one-of-a-kind skulls are up for grabs in this category, each piece meticulously carved out of breathtaking geodes and crystal rocks.  Ranging in price from just under $100 to well over $1,000, these crystal skulls are some of the coolest display pieces in the history of skull art, blending together the beauty of nature with the horror of decay.

Head over to Skullis to see many more where these came from, and also be sure to browse around the site and take a gander at all of their skull-tastic offerings!

Imagine waking up in a deep pit full of decaying, dead corpses, but with no recollection of who you are, how you got there or what the hell transpired. That’s John’s (Sharlto Copley) horrific situation in the creepy thriller, Open Grave. To make matters worse, he stumbles across a group of strangers suffering from a similar amnesia. As their memories slowly return and events unfold, they realize the truth is far more frightening than anything they could have conceived. Among the group is Brown Eyes, played by Asian actress Josie Ho. Ho spoke to me about her mysterious character and ramping up the intensity for this film.

There are a flood of horror movies every year. What grabbed you about the script and made it stand out from the pack?

The script is built so well on fear and miscommunication. That’s what makes it so interesting, as well as how human beings would react. And trust becomes such a true reflection in life. That’s why it caught my eye so much.

Introduce us to your character. Who is she and why is she in this situation?

My character is called Brown Eyes. Just the name sounds so attractive to me. She happened to be the key to the situation. With her angelic personality, she tries to help everyone during the chaos, while the rest of her friends have lost their memory and forgotten who they are. Unfortunately, when basic humanity rewinds back to zero, nobody trusts each other. Plus, Brown Eyes is a mute China girl. Tons of miscommunication right there.

Can you talk about the dynamic between the strangers and how they handle the pressure they are under?

The strangers in the film just go nuts the entire time. Some are in packs, like Joseph Morgan and Erin Richards’ characters [Nathan and Sharon], that are more laidback and willing to start trusting small things step-by-step. But Thomas Kretschmann and Sharlto Copley’s characters [Lukas and John] are in the hardcore group, who are on high ground and in states of paranoia, while Matt Wrottesley’s character, Michael, is in-between. He feels like he should be the hero and go out to find other zombies for us. Whereas Brown Eye basically knows the whole environment and tries to explain it to them with body language, but that doesn’t help the situation. No one believes me. The situation is intense because no one knows who can really be trusted. That’s why no one listens to Brown Eyes.

As everyone’s memories begin to return, how does that shape their decisions and actions?

I think as memories begin to come back, some groups, such as Nathan and Sharon, become calmer. But there is still one thing that always lies at the bottom of the truth that no one can completely trust. It makes us more united for a short while, but then the real humanity of the characters comes out, as well as more things attacking at all sides at the same time. It confuses peoples’ decisions and actions. That is why this film is so exciting.

Where does the found footage aspect fit into the story?

The found footage appears later in the film after another shocking and violent wave. Just when everyone thinks they’ve gotten a hold of who they are, suddenly, some shit goes down. Only half the truth shows on tape, so this really irritates Lukas because it creates a massive miscommunication with John. Then chaos quickly creeps in.

Open Grave kicks off with a big moment and never seems to slow down. What was it like maintaining that intensity throughout the movie?

I think as actors, we just do our jobs according to each scene written, especially since it’s a superb script. And yes, in these kinds of films, people would be concerned with how much intensity was on set. Regarding maintaining that intensity, I didn’t think of it like that because it is such an actor’s protocol for each and every script. Everybody does it well. Myself, I just go with the flow. I follow the script’s emotion and play pre-rehearsal with the other actors. They always inspire me.

How did filming on location in Hungary help create a certain vibe?

It was my first time to Hungary, so I think that alone helped me with my character. Hungary is a mysterious place compared to many other parts of the world. We stayed at a huge golf course inside the forest. All of the forest scenes were stunning, so I was already psyched out. Since high school, I’ve seen a lot of forests and they always give me these beautiful, creepy feelings. The first day I checked in, I was totally in character already.

What kind of director was Gonzalo Lopez-Gallego and what was it like working with this cast, especially Sharlto and Joseph?

Working with Gonzalo was very straightforward. He is a very kind director and at one point, I almost started understanding Spanish. I think he is a super-sharp director who is capable of giving us some freedom to play our roles. I’m so honored to be working with him and our whole crew. About Sharlto Copley, he seems to be a very reliable actor who knows all about productions, inside out. I like his Method way of acting. He does it for real. The energy he projects is very powerful and special. Working with Joseph is different because we became friends the first day we met at the dorm and we were already playing cards. Joseph is a very patient actor. He is also a very gentle and funny guy at the same time. I know Joseph has spent almost his whole life training as an actor, so when he gives a suggestion, it’s usually good for people in the scene to listen, myself included. I would love to work with Joseph again anytime.

At the end of the day, how brutal a shoot was this film? What were some of the challenges?

In the end, shooting the film wasn’t that brutal because it was my first time getting a trailer van. For me, it was heaven on set already. I guess it would have been a lot worse if the vans weren’t there because of the freezing cold weather in most parts of the deep jungle. I do believe in positive vibes a lot. After all is said and done, I felt that I had great fun shooting this film. We even had young producers who were willing to hang out with you and the cast after work. It was so much fun.

You know a game’s got legs when, years after its release, tie-in products are still a cause for excitement.  Case in point: DC Collectibles, the action-figure wing of DC Entertainment, has released the first image of Clayface from its ever-expanding Arkham City line…and it’s glorious.

Clayface was the surprise end boss from Arkham City (we’re outside of the spoiler statute of limitations, people), and his plastic puss is a thing to behold.  When compared to the 7-inch figures of the rest of the AC line, his 13-inch frame is pretty damn formidable, especially when shown to scale next to Batman.

No release date or price has been set by DC Collectibles, but it’s certain to look snazzy on many a bachelor’s bookshelf…or if you have an understanding partner or spouse.  Can I get one, honey?  Please?

[Source: Joystiq]

SEGA announced today that they’re taking their third stab at the Alien franchise (the first two being Aliens: Infestation on the Nintendo DS and Aliens: Colonial Marines), teaming up with Total War developer Creative Assembly to craft the survival-horror title Alien: Isolation.

Forgoing the firepower-fueled action of the previous titles, Isolation casts players as Ellen Ripley’s daughter Amanda, now a Weyland-Yutani employee, trying to track down her missing mother.  The lack of an ‘s’ in the title is crucial: the game is focusing more on the bleak horror of the original movie rather than the militaristic action of the sequel.

The featurette released along with the reveal trailer lets on to a rather intriguing idea: you’re facing off against a lone xenomorph, and there aren’t any weapons on display.  The environments have the beautifully clunky industrial look of the original film (“lo-fi sci-fi” is referenced) and the sense of dread is palpable even in the gameplay trailer.

Alien: Isolation will be released late 2014 on Xbox One, Xbox 360, Playstation 4, Playstation 3, and PC.