31 Days Of Horror: Day 9: Cat's Eye

Cat’s Eyes opens pretty unpromisingy, with a five minute credit sequence/barrage of in jokes involving Christine and Cujo that screams “We are desperately trying to drag this piece of shit to feature length.”

This is when the mannequin in the window comes to life and begs the kitty to help her. If there is a more inexplicable opening to a horror movie I have not seen it.

Quitting smoking sucks on several different levels. And I mean that literally. After the week or so of shrieking raw pain from the withdrawal, you have the month or so long period where your synapses just… won’t… fucking… connect. So it kind of feels as though you’re slightly stoned all of the time but with none of the benefits. Afterwhich you get that awesome eunichy feel as you watch all the other happy people who still get to smoke.

Of course, the plus side of this, is that you get to not die of cancer (given of course that you’ve quit in time, never a sure thing). But at times that can seem like mighty cold comfort.

King’s short story Quitter’s Inc (In all of these King related horror posts I’m going to touch a bit on the books as well. Partially because I can. Partially because I’ve been reading Bill’s 31 Days Of Slash and I am very VERY jealous) captures all of this misery. Telling the story of an organization dedicated to helping people quit smoking in the most extreme way possible.

The trick of the story, like many of King’s stories is it takes this absurd, nearly Kafkaesque, situation and plays it absolutely straight.

“A first offense and Cindy would be brought to what Donatti called “The Rabbit Trick” A second offense and Morrison would get the dose. On a third offense, both of them would be brought in together. A fourth offense would show grave cooperation problems and would require sterner measures. An operative would be sent to Alvin’s school to work the boy over.

“Imagine,” Donatti said smiling, “How horrible it would be for the boy. He wouldn’t understand it even if someone explained. He’ll only know someone is hurting him because Daddy was bad. He’ll be very frightened.”

“Don’t misunderstand” Donatti said, “I’m sure it won’t happen forty percent of our clients never have to be disciplined at all. And only ten percent fall from grace. Surely those are reasonable figures?”

Unfortunately Quitter’s Inc. plays it broad. Very, very fucking broad.

Woods gives it all he’s got. And there’s a party scene which captures the way that smokers act as though you have personally told them to go fuck themselves when they learn you’re no longer part of their number (not that that shoe hasn’t been on the other foot).

But it also Alan King in a silver disco suit lip syncing to “Every Move You’ll Make.” For some reason. And that’s much more indicative of the tone the film takes.

The Ledge works a lot better, but only comparatively. Mostly because the is more suited to the broad tone that the movie is going for. It could pass as a lost segment from Creepshow. Or at least Creepshow 2.

The final segment features a troll dressed in a jester’s cap and bells who menaces Drew Barrymore for reasons best left to the imagination.

It climaxes with an exceedingly bored looking cat dueling said Trol- and Jesus does this movie suck.

It’s a shame because as proven King’s compact nasty short stories lend themselves to anthology films very well and I wish more films would attempt it. Instead we get this incoherent mish mash of wasted opportunity.

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Bonus Feature:

I usually don't pass this kind of stuff along, but this deal seemed pretty straightforward so I figured what the hey (Ethically I will mention that I am being sent a free sample. But I will also point out that historically speaking sending me free shit does not guarantee a good review. So take it for what you will.)

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All you have to do is enter the code HALLO5 in at the check out and voila.

Alligator

Alligator is often cited as one of the last great exploitation films. Coming late in the cycle, it covers about all the basic tenets of the genre. Huge lapses of bad taste, gore, a fading star in the lead role, and an over qualified professional behind the scenes (In this case John Sayles).

Alligator is of course about an Alligator (Ramon to you). This particular reptile has the misfortune to be flushed down to the sewers of Los Angeles (Doubling for Chicago). There in, thanks to a hormone experiment (Radioactivity was so passé by that point. And Genetic Engineering had yet to rear its head) done by mad scientists who for some reason flush their results down into the sewer system, grows and grows. This produces a forty foot long alligator. Who after munching on utility workers, corrupt pet store owners (really), and young rookie cops on their “first week of the job.” The Alligator gets ambitious, and bursts to the surface, eating as many Angelinos as he can get his jaws on.

The Alligator himself is impressive, in the way all cheap animatronics look impressive in the CGI era. He might not look “real” but damn’d if they didn’t get it to look like a forty foot alligator wasn’t booking down Van Nuys Boulevard.

Robert Forester, plays the Alligator’s human counterpart. A hard bitten, balding cop whom the movie delights of stripping of his dignity, while forcing him to keep a straight face. Forester as always is a likable, easy going presence. He’s backed by an eccentric supporting cast, including “Frank Pentangilla as Forester’s commanding officer, and Henry Silva, doing a wicked parody of Quint from Jaws. In a performance described by one critic “As if they replaced Robert Shaw In Jaws with The Shark.”

The movie also gains frisson from the gleeful willingness with which it crosses all the lines it can reach. I mean where to start? The opening scene in which a preteen girl gets an up close and personal view of an Alligator munching on an unfortunate carny? Or the later scene in which a seven year old tot is forced to “walk the plank” into the waiting hungry maw of the titular giant beastie?

Just to give you a quick (and Spoileriffic) example of how Alligator is a smarter film then it has to be. There comes a scene where The Alligator, sociable fellow that he is, stops by a soiree of the uptown swells. This is exploitation cinema, the cinema of the proletariat’s desires. We all know how this goes, time to kick back and watch the Alligator dine on some bigwigs.

Except its not. Never fear, the alligator does eventually get to dine on the rich and famous. The first part of its attack is spent dining on the maids, waiters, gardeners, and other assorted poor son of a bitches who just happen to be there. Its one thing for a giant mutant Alligator to munch on someone at a garden party. Its quite another for him to munch someone whose being paid below minimum wage to be there. There in my friends lie the horror.