UPDATE: CATCHING UP WITH THE ANTI-HERO

 

In my element: Splattered with pig blood.

So it’s been, um, MONTHS since I last updated Mister Growl. The absence was necessary, I swear. This site was originally hatched to be little more than a portfolio of musings about extreme music and a chance to gush about my favorite albums of the day/week/month/millennium. Now that I’m able to cover great bands in Decibel Magazine each month (and with About.com and Girls and Corpses Magazine, when time allows), this site will cover my various writing projects and absolutely reek of shameless self-promotion. But, you know, reek in a good way.

Back in February I agreed to option my screenplay The Post-Ironic Hipster Massacre with an ambitious new production company based in the UK. The script had ranked in the top 100 entries at Scriptapalooza and after discussions with the producers I agreed to re-write the script, changing the setting from Brooklyn to London. The project is still in pre-production, but with the talent currently attached I feel great about the future of my silly, bloody, satirical slasher film.

I also recently finished the rough draft of a “heavy metal coloring book” illustrated by the unfairly talented Ellie Shvaiko. Without giving too much away, it’s a gruesome version of a popular fairy tale complete with monsters, warriors, and a plague that makes buttholes explode and turn inside-out. The title: 130 Dead Kids. More on that soon.

On the screenwriting front, I am nearing completion of drafts for two horror scripts I’m co-writing with awesome collaborators. My brother and I are working together on a haunted house/possession/zombie script tentatively called Appraising the Dead. I’m obviously biased, but it absolutely blows The Conjuring and its ilk out of the water in terms of creativity and kills. I’m also collaborating with screenwriter/playwright/actor Scott Langer on an exciting new project. The Last Birthday (working title) is a story split into halves: Mr. Langer sets up an intriguing premise with gritty humor and sharp dialogue, and I tear the world apart with surreal horror and gore.

Apart from pieces in Decibel Magazine, I also have a selection of poetry lined up for the next issue of Kung-Fu Breakfast. The issue - named “Beyond the Nude” - will focus on perceptions of nudity, sexuality, and the human form. My poems are based on my experiences as a patron of exotic dance establishments, and the collection is called “Dance With a Thousand Names.”

Lots more on the way, including the possibility of a short story collection and a better-late-than-never review of Maryland Deathfest for Girls and Corpses Magazine with my inebriated and uncensored thoughts on the event. Enjoy yourselves, fellow scumbags.

JIU-JITSU BRUNCH - HALLOWEEN ISSUE

Hey art lovers! A Halloween-themed issue of Jiu-Jitsu Brunch (the Kung Fu Breakfast supplemental series) just launched, unleashing horrors of all varieties on those brave enough to download it for FREE. Despite my infatuation with the undead, I’ve never written a proper zombie story. UNTIL NOW. My short story, “Molly,” is the featured fiction piece in the issue, and has absurd humor and splatter and all the reanimated creatures you could want in a four-page story.

The issue also shares a gorgeous front/back cover from Caitlin Anne,as well as work from Mister Growl-favorites Brittany Bindrim, Jay Kantor, and Jessica Towne. Sam Guss chips in some twisted, sexy-as-sin photography, and Kendra Lin’s “Halloween processional” is beautiful and seductive.

You can download the issue here (WARNING: ADULT CONTENT): http://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/646761

And check out Kung Fu Breakfast on Facebook. Like them, follow them, and comment on what pieces you enjoyed. It means a lot to the artists: https://www.facebook.com/KungFuBreakfast

REVIEW: EVIL DEAD / LORDS OF SALEM

I moseyed down to a local cineplex yesterday for a twin-bill showing of Evil Dead, the remake (re-imagining, whatever) of the Sam Raimi classic, and The Lords of Salem, Rob Zombie’s newest flick. I just wanted to share a few thoughts on each movie.

Evil Dead establishes early that the viewer should not expect shlock or camp. Apart from a few minor bloody fingerprints of dark comedy, this is deadly serious start to finish. The screenplay (collaboratively written by four people, including director Fede Alvarez) works hard to illustrate the dramatic weight of each relationship impacting David, played by Shiloh Fernandez. From his junkie sister to his nurse friend with sexual tension to his childhood friend who has since soured on him, there is plenty at stake when most of these people die. Interestingly enough, his girlfriend seems to carry the least dramatic significance, which just never bodes well for a character’s fate. The dialogue in these early scenes is pretty stilted, and you can feel the wheels churning as they rush to introduce all relevant information before the bloodshed kicks in. When it does, where your ponchos, ‘cause it gets messy. This movie has a serious vendetta against human limbs. There are some really solid set-pieces with nasty FX and slimy sound, like Jessica Lucas’ creepy, cringe-inducing turn. Evil Dead aims to terrify, disgust, and delight gorehounds. While the scares aren’t as effective as the gruesome effects (which mostly avoid the trappings of bad CG), this is still a genre offering I would encourage horror fans to give a chance, even if they are reluctant due to the pedigree of the original film. But Evil Dead is a totally different animal. For instance, it doesn’t have “The” in the title. Jane Levy, who plays the recovering addict Mia, steals the show with her deranged, physical performance. She drools, crawls, screams, and creepily grins her way through violent personality shifts in the most crucial role of the film.

I then used my stealth skills to crawl on the ceilings and jump shadow to shadow to find my way to The Lords of Salem theater. Rob Zombie is one of those directors (like Tim Burton, David Lynch, or Alejandro Jodorowsky) that has his own stamp of style, a mark (of the devil) that is undeniably his own. Unfortunately, his trademark gallows humor only pumps out in inconsistent spurts, and we’re left with a film that is both thematically sprawling, physically claustrophobic, disinterested in narrative clarity and the relationships between its characters after the second act, and equates to a long stare at a painting. As the lead character, a radio DJ with a mysterious connection to Salem’s bloody history of witchcraft persecution, Sheri Moon Zombie is entirely passable. The range required for the role isn’t tremendous, but she’s appropriately amiable to receive our sympathies, and a victim of circumstance entirely beyond her control. The real trouble is that all the work to develop her character is discarded as the “LET’S SEE HOW CRAZY THIS CAN GET” approach takes lead, resulting in an eye-rolling number of dream sequences and inexplicable location changes. It feels like this was written in the same day-to-day manner as Lynch’s Inland Empire, a similar occasionally captivating but mostly deeply flawed film that left me disappointed. Most of The Lords of Salem felt like a reason to see how hot Rob Zombie’s wife is, and how awesomely her character’s apartment is decorated. Stylistically this film definitely aspires to be The Shining by way of Rosemary’s Baby, as directed by Jean Rollin, who never saw a lady draped in sheer cloth he didn’t feel compelled to film. I have long admired Zombie’s passion for film, his jubilant cinematic voice that brings a refreshing, approachable quality to a grindhouse mentality, but this lumbering, tedious film was barely worth my sneaky zero-dollar admission fee. But hey, genre heroes Ken Foree and Dee Wallace camp it up and have some fun, so that’s cool, right?

REVIEW: MOUNT SALEM - ENDLESS

 

 

Somewhere in or around Chicago (my gut tells me Ravenswood) there is a coven of witches with impeccable musical taste who conjured Mount Salem from a smoking cauldron of black water. There is very little information available about the members of Mount Salem but the music they’ve created on Endless feels supernatural and triggers my overactive imagination. I’m not sure of the exact recipe the coven used, but it goes something like this: A heavy broth base of massive doom riffs, healthy doses of doped-up Muddy Waters electric Chicago blues, a splash of garage rock (from the darkest imaginable garage, built on an old burial ground), and a hallucinogenic pinch of occult rock psychadelia. And eye of newt, of course. Somewhere there’s a very sad pack of blind newts swimming aimlessly in a bog.

From the opening quote on “Good Times,” provided by none other than Charles Manson, Endless exists on a twisted, ethereal plain anchored by metallic heaviness while supporting the soothing vocals of their female lead singer. A minute into the song there’s already mention of burned churches, and with this musical accompaniment you can picture someone walking through the ashes enjoying the fragrance like floral incense. This is music that creates images, demands attention, and engages all senses. Endless is also accessible in the best of ways: It does not betray its heaviness with catchiness and melody. The riffs that carry these songs on their backs compare favorably to some of the best work by Sleep and Electric Wizard and feel like gentle giants: Huge in size and sound, but displaying soul.

Every song on this album is essential. Even “Mescaline,” the mid-album instrumental intermission, now a staple within the doom genre, is the perfect somber, dreamy departure from the heavy crunch of the rest of the record. Mount Salem has also already perfected what I call “psychedelic dirges,” where the keyboards and vocals dance slyly, even seductively, over ominous, heavily distorted breakdowns. It has all the same mystery and beauty of a Dario Argento horror scene, complete with the stylized bloodletting. Endless ironically concludes with “The End,” perhaps the best example of musicianship on the album, including every element of their signature sound, from smoky, goth blues to brutally loud, fuzzy stoner rock. This song will be my lullaby for a long time.

Endless feels like it’s trapped in the nightmarish head-space of a psychic medium on a bad trip. This is another album that I feel I could play for diehard metalheads and curious rock fans who may be unfamiliar with doom and receive enthusiastic responses from both. While the vocalist may sing that “this is the end of everything,” as a fan of heavy music I will gladly delay the apocalypse for a few more albums from Mount Salem.

Listen to the album here and support the band on their merch page:  http://mountsalem.bandcamp.com/album/endless

And follow them on Facebook to learn more about their upcoming tour:  https://www.facebook.com/MountSalem