Flatliners (Requested)

The brat pack for spooky kids

So many of our late 80’s / early 90’s horror favorites are really just the decaying remains of the (more mainstream) brat pack crap. And I really say that with the utmost love and respect for 80’s horror.

In the past, I’ve gone on and on (like some idiot school girl myself) about how much I adore The Lost Boys. And while I can write objectively about it’s cheesy, audience-pleasing roots, it’s got more under the hood than just a creepifide version of that sappy, heart-string-tugging, feel-good nonsense that fueled the brat pack flicks.

There’s actually this weird, meta evolution within 80’s films that can literally follow kids from their adventuring, childhood Goonies days through one of the stereotypes laid out in your standard, brat packy, high school flick: were you the bad girl? You might just find yourself in The Lost Boys (or Heathers). Were you the good girl? Well fuck, you’re probably going to find yourself smack dab in the midst of Sixteen Candles or Say Anything or one of those cheerful high school flicks.

Putting ranty asides aside, I want to jump forward a bit here to the decline of the brat pack and the last great step in the meta evolution on those spooky kids: Flatliners.

Follow those “bad kids” out of Heathers and The Lost Boys and you’ll end up in med school with a group of kids who think killing themselves (to see “what’s on the other side”) and then reviving themselves to chat about it is somehow a good idea.

Far be it from me to judge anyone else’s choice of extracurricular activities but, how in the hell did anyone so technically smart come to this conclusion?! What a bunch of fucking morons. This fact lands Flatliners dead in the middle of another blog about "bad science" in movies; med school or not, these folks make some of the absolute dumbest decisions a scientist could ever make.

Add to that the fact that the “traumas” they relive / must forgive themselves for are painfully juvenile (I bullied some kid in high school. My daddy had a drug problem. Something about a kid falling out of tree…) What the hell is the message of this stupid movie? “The past is past. Get the fuck over it.” Or maybe, “All kids are fucking screwed up jerks, say you’re sorry and it’ll be okay."

Plot idiocies aside, this movie was clearly meant to draw a crowd: a little bit of a horror flick and a lot bit cast with “young, hip, up-and comers” of the time. Writing this blog as I am (without the benefit of the internet) I can’t look up how much money it made, but I’m pretty sure it fell (at least) into the “moderately successful” category.

And to be completely honest, I’m not really surprised by that fact. Flatliners is fairly charming when you look at it as the under appreciated love child of The Breakfast Club and The Lost Boys.

You can watch the Flatliners trailer here:

Rebuttal: 17 Disturbing Horror Movies You Will Never Watch Again

When I'm not watching movies, I'm reading about movies. I stumble across all kinds of articles, blog posts, book excerpts, etc. in my quest to absorb as much movie knowledge as possible. Now, I'm snotty and loud-mouthed and opinionated but I'd never begrudge another human their opinion. Seriously. You're absolutely welcome to have any opinion about any thing you want. However, I must warn you, if I think your opinion is stupid, I'm absolutely going to say so. I've recently stumbled on an article completely brimming with so many idiotic opinions that I'm actually compelled to craft a response. Here's the gist of the original article: there are some horror movies out there that are so disturbing , you'll only ever want to watch them once. I've have taken her original list and refuted her claims without pulling her entire article over. You can read the original article here . Let's start at the beginning, with her opening statement

"I live, I love, I slay & I am Content."

Let me tell you a little about myself; something real about the home I grew up in. There were lots of people around all the time. I was the only child. And, thankfully, I wasn't treated as such. Much like today, I was just the shortest member of the household. But what's that really mean? Above and beyond it means that I had many influences growing up. For this entry, my father's influence is the most important. My father loves arms and armor. He loves history and mythology and the art of warfare. And as any good father would, he shared these passions with me as a kid. I remember him making me wooden swords to play with. We played chess together. And I remember him reading me Greek myths and comic books before bed. He also shared his nerdy love of scifi, fantasy, and horror movies with me. For all of this, I am grateful. And I am now passionate about the same things. Spoiler alert: the following statement is not a dick joke. I have a love of swords. And barbarian

Pet Sematary

I learned a really interesting lesson the other night: no matter how many times you've seen a movie on a small screen, you haven't really seen it until you've done so on the big screen. Thus begins my story of realization in which I discover Pet Sematary (seemingly for the first time) and develop a theory that it might actually have been directed by David Lynch (this last bit being hyperbole, of course–but I've got a strong case for it, so stick with me). Over the years, I've watched Pet Sematary a handful of times and while I know all the major plot points (and always remembered Denise Crosby as being completely awful), I definitely feel like I've seen a completely different movie this time around. In case you're coming in late and don't know how the story goes, here's the $.25 of it: family moves into house positioned (oddly close) to an Indian burial ground. The neighbor is friendly (albeit creepy). The road they are on has absolutely n

i'm kael's ghost

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