Death Awaits You

They thought it was a utensil
Maybe a fork or a knife
It could’ve been the husband
Or possibly the wife
There were so many open wounds
Three hundred and twenty in all
A more gruesome discovery
No one else could recall

It was unrecognizable
This tortured body on the ground
The mourners all gathered
No one made a sound
The shock rippled through
They were paralyzed with grief
Except for one solitary figure
With a deep sense of relief

He tried hard to blend in
To not express a smile
“You deserved it,” he thought
Blood stained every tile
He didn’t use a utensil
Not a fork or a knife
They would never suspect
The source of all this strife

It happened in an instant
Everything was meticulously planned
There was no warning
He finally took a stand
Everyone was asleep
At the time of the attack
Obliviously dreaming
In this charming cul-de-sac

No one was aware
Until a straggler tripped and fell
The others were alerted
They couldn’t take the smell
Here they all stood
Hovering all around
They had never experienced
A loss so profound

No one knew what to do
They were as stiff as the stiff
A dry heave would come
Whenever you caught a whiff
The body was soon covered
No one could take the sight
Except for that solitary figure
Concealing his delight

The authorities eventually arrived
Everyone was questioned
Evidence was gathered
Many theories were mentioned
They all sounded plausible
But none were correct
If only they noticed him
Standing so erect

As the scene unfolded
He reflected once more
Reveling in his violence
Excited by the gore
But one thing still disturbed him
In fact, it took him by surprise
“Death awaits you,” his victim whispered
As she slowly closed her eyes

The memory made him gasp
And it startled everyone in the room
He covered by suddenly wailing
He felt a sense of impending doom
As he was comforted
His paranoia grew stronger
It was becoming clearer
He wouldn’t be around much longer

At dinner that night
He recalled something odd
The food tasted funky
Could it have possibly been the cod?
He confided in a guest
Who wondered what he was smoking
“That meal was delicious!”
Surely, he was joking

His suspicion grew deeper
Something was definitely amiss
Had he been outsmarted?
He excused himself to piss
He stared in the mirror
His face completely white
He shuddered at the possibility
There would be two deaths tonight

As he gathered himself
He proceeded to flush
He steadied his reserve
While his mind turned to mush
He returned to the scene
No longer enthralled
The whole sorry situation
Left him completely appalled

He began to shake
He started to sweat
He suddenly was consumed
With intensifying regret
His heart began to race
Then he clutched his chest
He collapsed into the cushion
Of an ample, waiting breast

There was no pulse
He had stopped breathing
It dwarfed in size
To the chest that was heaving
She screamed in horror
He was quickly removed
What had caused this?
It would never be proved

Two thorough investigations
Dragged on for years
No charges were ever laid
They had ruled out their peers
No suspects would emerge
No one knew who to blame
The victims and the murderers
Were one and the same

So, why did this happen?
Why were they killed?
No answers were forthcoming
No secrets would be spilled
They would be buried with the couple
At the centre of it all
Stabbed and poisoned
Both destined to fall

If only someone had noticed
All that tension in the air
The estrangement in progress
A disastrous affair
The unscathed woman with the ample bosom
Cheerfully carrying on with her carefree life
After surviving her cheating husband
Destroyed by his former wife

Dennis Earl
Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
Saturday, October 22, 2022
11:54 p.m.

Published in: on October 22, 2022 at 11:55 pm  Comments (1)  

No Salvation

What part of NO don’t you understand?
Why is this such an impossible demand?
I won’t take a look
I won’t take a peek
I won’t be the salvation you desperately seek

Why continue to be such a pest?
Are you ever gonna give this bullshit a rest?
I don’t care if you’re sorry
I don’t care if you’re not
How many more lessons do you need to be taught?

Why can’t you ever make up your mind?
Withdraw and leave all your stupidity behind
Nothing will change
The walls will remain
When did you stop using your brain?

I was happier to no longer be distracted
And not have my peace of mind impacted
This statue won’t budge
It’s firmly implanted
I’ve carried on as you silently ranted

I’ve noticed you’re still deleting your trail
Disappearing your latest fail
A perpetual mystery
Lurking all about
Waiting for the next mistimed moment to shout

You know you’re running out of melodies to play
Will you ever just call it a day?
It doesn’t get better
Things won’t improve
Time for Stella to find a new groove

Dennis Earl
Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
Thursday, October 13, 2022
2:07 a.m.

Published in: on October 13, 2022 at 2:07 am  Comments (1)  

The History Of The Mystery Track – R.E.M. Covers The Clique

“I love records that intrigue me, that keep me guessing. Rock ‘n’ roll’s basically all about mystery.”

Peter Buck, 1986

In the final week of 1977, a young college student started working for a local record shop in Georgia. Wuxtry Records, an independent store operating in the college town of Athens, had just opened the previous year. In 1978, they would open a second location in nearby Decatur. Peter Buck, who was already thinking of dropping out, would eventually work in both.

A longtime audiophile, he became obsessed with obscure recordings by long forgotten artists of the past. Two years into his tenure, a young guy walked in with two beautiful women on his arms flipping through the racks. Buck thought he was just a ladykiller. But he later found out it was the man’s sisters.

Michael Stipe was a frequent customer of Wuxtry’s. Buck struck up a friendship with him and made sure to set aside some cool stuff he thought his new pal would like. They eventually talked about forming a band together.

One of the old 45s Buck was intrigued by was Sugar On Sunday, a 1969 single by a short-lived Texas band called The Clique. It reached as high as #22 on the Billboard Hot 100. It would be their only radio hit and they didn’t even write it. It was a cover of a Tommy James & The Shondells song, originally an album cut from their 1968 release, Crimson & Clover.

When Buck flipped it over, he ended up preferring the B-Side. Now a full-time member of R.E.M. with Stipe, Mike Mills and the bassist’s former bully, drummer Bill Berry, he was actively looking for songs that would make decent covers for live shows. He gave Mills a copy. They planned to work out their own arrangement.

But as the band was starting to write its own material, their priorities shifted. Beyond live performances and the occasional B-side for their eventual IRS singles, the idea of remaking old songs was mostly abandoned.

As the band’s critical reputation grew through the first half of the 80s, one important thing kept eluding them. What was it going to take to get them on mainstream radio? Already fixtures on college stations, most Top 40 and rock listeners didn’t know who they were. Yes, their low-budget videos were getting limited airplay on MTV and MuchMusic and yeah, they did Late Night With David Letterman. But there was no undeniable breakthrough. It also didn’t help that their independent record label IRS didn’t have the greatest distribution system. Their singles and albums weren’t as widely available as they should’ve been.

After releasing three studio records in three years, R.E.M. went to work on the fourth. Lifes Rich Pagent (there’s no apostrophe because Stipe hates them, apparently), the title taken from an Inspector Clouseau line from the second Pink Panther movie, A Shot In The Dark, was mainly a leftovers album. Most of the material was comprised of discarded, unused tracks from earlier album sessions.

While rehearsing in their Athens headquarters on Clayton St., Stipe noticed Mills & Buck fiddling around with a song he didn’t recognize. But he liked what he was hearing. A little short on original songs for the new record, a cover would be one less space to fill.

“Michael didn’t know the words,” Buck later said as recounted in the 1997 book It Crawled From The South: An REM Companion, “so we said, ‘Mike [Mills], you sing lead and Michael [Stipe], you sing exactly what he sings a couple of seconds afterwards.”

(I Am) Superman, that old Clique B-Side, would mark the first time a cover would appear on an REM release. Despite being excluded from all but two of their greatest hits packages (it only surfaced on the IRS releases Singles Collected and the double-disc version of And I Feel Fine…), little did anyone know the remarkable longevity it would go on to enjoy.

On March 8, 1986, during their first ever gig christening the new 40 Watt Club in Athens, the band debuted their new cover. They would continue playing it on numerous shows throughout the rest of the year and into 1987.

Unlisted as the 12th and final track on Pagent (after the original plan for it to be its own B-side was cancelled), the song would also be released as a single on November 3, 1986, three months after the album. The sleeve cover for the 45 features a sketch of an unknown baby, credited to a mysterious Kaleb, a curious Superman reference. On the back cover, it announces the song’s inclusion on the album without noting its unlisted status.

The song begins most unusually. A toy starts screaming in Japanese before Buck kicks in with that catchy hook. When the band toured Japan two years earlier, they picked up a talking Godzilla doll, the kind that you pull with a cord in order to activate its voice. It became a mascot of sorts for a time, often resting on a guitar amp.

Because the movie Godzilla only let out that now iconic scream, the words are actually from a breathless, unknown journalist warning his fellow citizens of the impending danger. This is what he’s saying in English:

“This is a special news report. Godzilla has been sighted in Tokyo Bay. The attack on it by the Self-Defense Force has been useless. He is heading towards the city. AAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!!”

For the most part, R.E.M doesn’t deviate too much from The Clique’s original. Although Buck’s opening lick offers a few more notes than the B-Side’s single-chord introduction, therefore actually improving it, the basic arrangement is roughly the same, even the little instrumental break before the last set of words. (Both cuts feature a prominent organ during that section.) Only the ending is different. The Clique fades out while R.E.M. stops cold with Buck’s final strum ringing out.

Randy Shaw’s nasally vocals are far more ghostly and buried, but unlike R.E.M.’s remake there is no delayed echo response to every line of the chorus, just direct harmonizing on the last two words of each (“what’s happening” and “do anything”). For the verses, The Clique have the chorus sung at the exact same time resulting in a cluttered feel, making some of the words difficult to ascertain unless you already know them. R.E.M. wisely dropped this distractingly layered approach. In their version, you just hear Mills going high and Stipe going low as they harmonize the verses. Still, you can see why Buck liked the song so much. Despite its creepy stalker lyrics, fairly typical of the era (think The Who’s I Can See For Miles), it’s undeniably hooky.

(I Am) Superman would be slotted in as the last song on Lifes Rich Pagent (it’s track 6 on the “Supper Side” of the LP version) but it was deliberately unlisted on the album’s back cover. (The label side of the actual CD does list it, as does the vinyl edition, simply as Superman, in this case as track 12.) A quick perusal of the liner notes explains something peculiar about the outside track listing.

Right under Swan Swan H is a mysterious “+” sign followed by “___________________”.

When you flip open to the first panel of the liner notes on the left, the first thing you’ll note in capital letters is this:

“ALL SONGS BERRY BUCK MILLS STIPE.”

But right under all the publishing information you’ll see not everything on the album is an original composition. You’ll see “EXCEPT” in slightly smaller block letters followed by that same plus sign and now a much longer line right underneath them.

In the middle of the panel, just below the snail mail information and the gag about a “cricket machine” museum exhibit, you’ll learn who actually wrote Superman. (The label side of the CD itself reprints the same information.)

Alan Zekley, who preferred to be called by his middle name Gary, was a California native who pitched songs he wrote to bands he hoped to produce. (He had his own solo single, Other Towns, Other Girls in 1963.) After writing Superman with Mitch Bottler, Zekley ultimately convinced the members of The Clique to record it.

Eight seconds of silence separates Swan Swan H, the last credited song and this hidden cover tune. According to Peter Buck, as recounted in It Crawled From The South, it just made sense to put some distance between the two:

“Here’s this record and you’ve gone through it and the songs are pretty varied and kinda serious, and there’s this joyous end. It’s kinda dumb and enjoyable. I love it!”

When promoting Lifes Rich Pagent during press interviews at the time, there was a hope on the part of the band to meet the surviving members of The Clique. Unfortunately, they were not so easy to track down now.

But Chuck Fieldman, an entertainment reporter for the Chicago Tribune, managed to locate Zekley through the publisher of the song R.E.M. was about to make famous. Long out of the music business (according to this, his last credit appears to be from 1974), The Clique’s former producer was found working for Texas Instruments in Los Angeles.

Thrilled to bits that this rising college rock band was covering one of his old forgotten songs, he was very eager to meet them. He saw Martha Quinn on MTV talking it up and was already hearing the song on the radio.

As a surprise, having caught the earliest flight he could, he traveled from California to the other side of the country for their first face-to-face encounter backstage before a gig. So happy to see him, the band wanted to return their appreciation by giving him a chance to shine in a way he never had before.

On October 26, less than two weeks before the 45 would appear in stores, R.E.M. played a show in the college town of De Kalb, Illinois. Just before they played Superman that night, Zekley was introduced by Mike Mills and brought out on stage. A bootleg video of the moment posted on YouTube shows an overjoyed Zekley singing back-up with Michael Stipe, enthusiastically dancing on the spot and banging a tambourine with a great deal of delight.

He had so much fun, he came back to do it all over again on November 6 during a show at the Felt Forum in New York City, three days after the Superman single became available for purchase.

Seizing an opportunity, IRS Records rushed out a press release entitled “‘Superman’ Writer Comes Forward, Joins R.E.M. On Stage” where Zekley offers high praise for R.E.M.’s cover:

“They did it the way I did it. They did the hell out of it. It speaks to me.”

Radio broadcasters agreed. Well, at least the ones programming rock stations. While it never cracked Billboard’s Hot 100 (Fall On Me, the first single from Lifes Rich Pagent, at least hit 94), R.E.M.’s version of Superman would be added to numerous playlists in North America. As a result, it peaked at #17 on Billboard’s Mainstream Rock Tracks chart.

And while those same stations played Fall On Me far more often (before The One I Love, it was their highest charting single climbing into the Top 5), (I Am) Superman has had a surprisingly long shelf life long after its original unveiling.

In Tempus, Anyone?, the fourteenth episode of the third season of Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman which first aired in 1996, near the half hour mark, the song is heard for just over two minutes. Unfortunately, a knock-off version was substituted for the DVD box set.

Almost fourteen and a half minutes into Dynamic Duets, the seventh episode of the fourth season of Glee which debuted in 2012, romantic rivals Ryder and Jake, dressed as fake Supermen named Mega Studs, compete for the affection of a clearly flattered Marley while doing a slightly sped up redo of the song during a rehearsal for sectionals. Superman comes to an abrupt end 82 seconds later when a fed up Jake slugs the guy he’ll inevitably make peace with right in the kisser. (With a newfound confidence, near the end of the episode, Marley asks out Jake who maybe didn’t blow it after all.)

In the final scene of Superdad, the eighth episode of The Jim Gaffigan Show which aired in 2015, R.E.M.’s cover of Superman plays just as the comedian accidentally locks himself out of his apartment after taking out the garbage in his underwear.

Superman has also become an unlikely jock jam, especially during playoff games on TV. On May 10, 2003, the song was played in the XCEL Center during the first Overtime of Game 1 of the Conference Final Series between the Minnesota Wild and the Anaheim Mighty Ducks. (The Ducks finally scored the only goal of the game in the second overtime in what became the first of four straight victories.)

On June 17, 2008, after Kobe Bryant drained a succession of three-pointers during Game 6 of the NBA Finals between his Los Angeles Lakers and their longtime rivals the Boston Celtics, Superman was played as the TV outro music going into a commercial break. (It was all for naught. The Celtics easily won 131-92, securing their 17th championship.)

Although there was no official video for the track, YouTube is loaded with tributes. One clip pairs the song with scenes from the disappointing Superman Returns, doubling as an unofficial trailer. Another incorporates various clips from numerous Superman shows and movies, including the vintage noirish Max Fleischer cartoons and shots of the best Man Of Steel Christopher Reeve.

Lifes Rich Pagent would be R.E.M.’s most successful IRS album until the release of Document in 1987 when they scored their first legitimate Top 10 single on Billboard. The following year, they made the jump to Warner Bros., released numerous multi-platinum blockbusters and never looked back.

As for Gary Zekley, tragically, he would not get to fully enjoy all the tributes and commercial uses of his once ignored song. He died of a heart attack in 1996. He was only 53.

Dennis Earl
Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
Friday, October 7, 2022
4:00 a.m.

Published in: on October 7, 2022 at 4:00 am  Comments (1)  

The Price Of Fame (2017)

What made The Million Dollar Man Ted DiBiase such a great wrestling villain? He was unabashedly, unapologetically despicable. There was nothing to like about him. He was the perfect embodiment of white privilege. (He even had his own Black slave!) The very definition of an unrepentant capitalist, he was the wealthy schoolyard bully who repeatedly laughed in your face while he tormented you because there was nothing you could do to stop him.

When he ran into an obstacle, he always found the same way around it: bribes. Too many kids clowning around in a public pool? Too many patrons at the old watering hole? A newlywed couple staying in the honeymoon suite that should be yours? Here’s a bunch of Benjamins to make them all go away. Teasing a young child with the idea of making quick money? Screw him over at the last possible second and never lose a cent. Can’t beat Hulk Hogan for the World title? Offer him a million to give it up.

And when Hogan the American hero inevitably screams, “HELLLL NOOOOOO!” in response, you buy out Andre The Giant’s contract, replace a referee with his crooked twin and have the title handed to you without ever breaking a sweat. Even though he was stripped of the title three days after the screwjob, he wasn’t fined or fired. In fact, he got to enter the tournament to determine a new champion at WrestleMania IV where he even made it all the way to the finals before Hogan got his revenge paving the way for The Macho Man’s first World title push.

It was a gimmick tailor made for the dapper DiBiase who could humiliate you on the microphone and school you in the ring. He was so natural in the part that his barbs never felt scripted. But it opened up doors that should’ve stayed closed.

The Price Of Fame, an uneven 2017 documentary that played in theatres for exactly one night before its eventual home video release the following year, is a missed opportunity to tell the full story of the consequences of DiBiase’s sudden transformation into the definitive villain of the late 80s after years of bouncing back and forth through the territory era as an underachieving mid-card performer.

To be sure, we do get glimpses of that story, the wrestling portions easily being the best parts. But DiBiase is a changed man and as a result so much of this is sanitized but mostly for his protection. The pro wrestler who once took advantage of his position to consume copious amounts of alcohol and drugs, and have meaningless flings with dazzled groupies, all while generating massive amounts of heel heat in arenas and on TV, has since become a whipped minister, a bearded Jimmy Swaggart who will take shots at Howard Stern’s obsession with sex instead of acknowledging his own. Despite being a temporary theatrical release, curse words as benign as hell are bleeped.

In The Price Of Fame, a regretful DiBiase notes the failure of his first marriage. It’s the usual story. He was away far too much from his first wife and oldest son because of the constant demands of his job and presumably, that caused more than enough resentment to force a split. I say presumably because his first wife is notably absent from the film.

As for his second marriage, he almost fucks that up too by being greedy and selfish and overly horny not unlike the character he was asked to continue playing even in the real world to convince the public that he really was The Million Dollar Man in and out of the ring. (The unspoken parallels with Ric Flair are unmistakable.)

DiBiase’s wife Melanie, who appears frequently, is a Super Christian to the point where she sounds more like a brainwashed cult member. She really wants to leave her husband upon learning about his continual betrayals (she remembers lots of crying alone in her bedroom) but God wants her to forgive his philandering so she does. You can’t be selective about this sort of thing, she claims. Everything should be forgiven. It’s the Lord’s will! So, if she wasn’t such a Jesus freak, she’d be gone?

Why can’t she be real and admit that it wouldn’t have been so easy to walk away knowing she had two young kids to take care of? And that if there was a chance for a real reconciliation with restored trust, why not go for it? Regardless of her rationale, she doesn’t sound disappointed with her decision, although the hurt never really goes away.

While his oldest son from his first marriage is conspicuous by his absence, as well, Brett and Ted Jr., the two boys he had with Melanie (both ex-wrestlers themselves), seem deeply conflicted about their father’s mistakes. Brett wants to confront him demanding a belated apology even though he had already forgiven him ages ago. After learning about what his Mom went through, the otherwise hero-worshipping Ted Jr., who nearly fucked up his own life by causing an accident while driving drunk, has his own awkward, but disappointingly subdued private interaction with DiBiase who blames his chronic cheating on his inflated ego at the time.

But he’s not being completely honest here. DiBiase’s parents split when he was two and when his mom remarried, he took on his stepfather’s last name. “Iron” Mike DiBiase became his hero and role model. (There’s lots of 8mm footage of him cheerfully interacting at home with his family.) But when DiBiase was 15, “Iron” Mike died suddenly of a heart attack during an infamous match against Man Mountain Mike. (A guilt-ridden Terry Funk reveals it was a booking he had actually passed on, a memorable revelation. Not mentioned is that “Iron” Mike had a preexisting heart condition.)

The shock of this unexpected event clearly had a profound impact on DiBiase who also blames his later self-destructive behaviour on not having his stepdad around to keep him honest. (Do you really need someone to tell you to not repeatedly cheat on your wife?) DiBiase’s mom took the news of her husband’s death particularly hard. She basically drank herself to death long before he became The Million Dollar Man. The movie never suggests that DiBiase was going to meet the same fate if he didn’t clean up (there’s no talk of overdoses or serious liver damage) but it certainly explains why he continually attempted to numb his pain. Why doesn’t he just admit it, then?

There are a number of scenes where the two Teds visit his father’s grave. Ted Sr. delivers a personal monologue directly to it without his son present and becomes overwhelmed, the tears visibly dropping from his eyes. He may have stopped destroying his life but he’s never fully come to terms with his death.

My question is why doesn’t he visit his mom’s grave? And why so little insight into her life? You have to turn to Wikipedia to even learn that she too was a wrestler.

Not a single talking head has anything bad to say about DiBiase the wrestler (universally viewed as one of the greatest bad guys of all time which I certainly won’t dispute) or the person (great friend, always there to check in and help out), especially those who were “saved” by his ministry like Lex Luger who isn’t given any time to talk about his own failings (that was left to A&E) and Sean Waltman who’s only given one moment to talk publicly about how grateful he is to no longer be suicidal.

I’m never gonna bemoan anyone who finds religion a comfort in their troubled lives, especially Waltman who is in a much happier place these days. But I do get tired of the come to Jesus schtick from the DiBiases, especially in light of recent revelations about them gleefully misappropriating taxpayer money meant for truly needy people.

The film tries to find the balance between DiBiase’s stellar WWE career (he’s wrong about the first time he fought The Macho Man, though; it was Saturday Night’s Main Event, not WrestleMania 4) without doing a full overview, his near self-destruction (featuring Ted Jr. playing his dad in unexciting reenactments) and his born again Christianity which gives him another outlet for his formidable promo skills. Unfortunately, there’s too much Jesus and not enough wrestling.

Just when you think the film is over, right after the showing of most of the closing credits, DiBiase suddenly appears with old pal and frequent in-ring rival Shawn Michaels, another latter-day Bible thumper who overly credits an invisible, non-existent, non-interfering entity for the restoration of his reputation. The conversation keeps the God talk to a minimum and thankfully focuses most of its attention on wrestling which briefly enlivens things. And yet, its placement at the very end of the film is strange.

When it comes to answering the central thesis of the movie – what is the price of fame? – there are the usual answers. Loss of privacy, loss of your free time, total commitment at the expense of your family responsibilities, endless temptation. There’s a scene where DiBiase’s general comments on his rabble rousing are intercut with his wife talking about everything she did for her family in his absence.

The point being that he was so caught up in his gimmick and so determined to nullify his stubbornly lingering grief that nothing else mattered. Do I believe Ted DiBiase regrets hurting his family? Of course. Do I think he needed to find Jesus to stop being a dick? No I don’t.

In light of recent revelations that have no doubt reinjured his own reputation, The Price Of Fame feels very much at times like a whitewash of a more complicated character and an infomercial for his now controversial ministry. This whole redemptive arc is something of a farce considering how he’s still trying to get away with being a crook. Now he’s just doing it sober.

Dennis Earl
Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
Tuesday, October 4, 2022
3:48 a.m.

Published in: on October 4, 2022 at 3:48 am  Comments (1)  

Scream (2022)

Scream sequels are like Jane’s Addiction albums. They only come out once a decade.  But while Perry Farrell’s celebrated foursome remained entertaining and relevant at least up until the early 2000s, there hasn’t been a good Scream movie since number two in 1997.

What was once the franchise’s strength, its humourous, obsessive self-awareness of its own cliches while delivering genuine scares, has now become annoying and ineffectual. Irony is no longer a radical concept. It has become a predictable detriment.

The problem with the newest Scream, the fifth in the long-running series, is its overreliance on the formula established by the original. Take the opening sequence, for instance. Remember what happened to Drew Barrymore in 1996? A similiar fate seemingly awaits Tara (Jenna Ortega), an outmatched teen harassed by a deep-voiced mystery caller who inevitably demands she participate in a horror movie pop quiz to spare her stalked friend.

What she doesn’t know is that her friend is never actually in any danger. And in truth, she won’t die, either, for reasons that eventually become clear much later on but don’t really make much sense in the long run.

Horrified to learn about what happened, her concerned sibling Sam (Melissa Barrera who looks like the love child of Brooke Shields and Siouxsie Sioux) rushes home to see her only to be met with deep resentment for her sudden departure when she turned 18.

Sam’s dating a suspicious cat named Richie (Joshua Jackson doppelganger Jack Quaid) who immediately raises red flags when he pretends not to know much about horror films, especially the Stab franchise, a fictional stand-in and recurring in-joke for the actual Scream series, while secretly watching a web show obsessively dedicated to that very subject.

But like Skeet Ulrich in the original, the movie makes you doubt and question your gut instinct in a way that in this case I found rather contrived. Also like the first film, there is more than one Ghostface, one of the many ways this Scream lacks an inventive imagination. In fact, one character openly suggests the possibility of multiple killers based on his own previous experience and totally nails the identity of one of the culprits.

After Sam herself is absurdly confronted by Ghostface in the very hospital her sister is recovering in, the same place Tara will once again find herself completely vulnerable to the predations of one of the killers, along with Richie, she desperately seeks out Dewey (David Arquette) hoping for good advice on how to prevent more murders.

Now retired and separated from his lady love Gale Weathers (Courtney Cox who should’ve never gotten plastic surgery because she looks weird now), the formerly shameless tabloid reporter turned harmless host of her own New York morning show (I prefer her with an edge), the ex-deputy sheriff is reduced to pining for the old days when he wasn’t a pussy. I mean, come on.

After initially refusing to help the young couple who visit him in his trailer park, he calls old pal Sydney Prescott (Neve Campbell who still looks fabulous) to warn her against returning home. Now married with three kids, she doesn’t listen. And neither does Gale who later directly confronts her supposedly timid ex wondering why she got a text instead.

In the meantime, the Ghostfaces continue their killing spree as Tara’s friends, slowly dwindling in numbers, all suspect each other of being the heels, including the actual perpetrators themselves who only do so to blend in and avoid detection.

Like all previous chapters in this series, there is commentary on the horror genre itself. This time around, it’s all about the obnoxiously named requels or legacequels (rebooted franchises that involve returning characters but also feature new ones) and an argument about which is better: old-school horror like Stab or “elevated horror” like The Babadook. (For the record, I’m with Ghostface on Babadook. It’s underwhelming.)

Meanwhile, Sam has her own problems. For some odd reason, she keeps seeing visions of Ulrich in mirrors. (Her medication is clearly not working.) And she’s been harboring considerable guilt over a family secret she unwittingly exposed. It turns out her unseen alcoholic mom got pregnant by Ulrich and never told her husband. (Sounds like an episode of Maury.) However, she did write it all down in her diary that she stupidly left lying around in the family attic. (Ever hear of a safety deposit box or a storage locker or not writing about this at all?) When Sam learned the truth she confronted her about the deception not knowing that it would result in the sudden and permanent departure of her stepdad.

Fearing she would become just like her real father, Sam moves as far away from her family as possible. But now that she’s back, those fears have only grown stronger. As it turns out, maybe she has inherited a taste of the old ultra-violence.

Dragging on for nearly two hours, I’m convinced that once the identities of the killers are finally revealed (one almost gets killed by stupidly hiding in a closet before the heel turn), this film would’ve been a lot shorter if they didn’t spend so much time stalling and babbling on about their ridiculous plans. Wasting all those precious minutes allows the injured heroes more than enough time to restore order.

For a film hyperfocused on its own recycled elements, where is the talk about The Fallacy Of The Talking Killer? Once again, the heels are firmly in control but take way too long to get to the point. I’ll never understand why a villain feels the need to lay out every little detail of their diabolical scheme to the heroes when all this hesitation and indiscretion will ensure they will be handily defeated.

This fifth Scream movie is so unwilling to be different it shamelessly recreates memorable meta moments from the past without adding anything surprising. Besides the familiar opening which drags on for over 10 minutes, consider the scene where one character is watching a scene from Stab which will be familiar to anyone who saw the first Scream. It’s a word-for-word, shot-for-shot reenactment.

In the original Scream, Jamie Kennedy yells at a potential victim in a horror movie to get the hell out of there while the audience in the theatre no doubt urged him to do the same when Ghostface suddenly appears and approaches him from behind. In the 2022 Scream, a character is yelling at the Stab recreation while the audience is supposed to react the same way to her being stalked by another Ghostface. What’s so clever about this? It’s lazy. Come up with something new instead of slightly tweaking a greatest hit.

There are times where even the movie anticipates criticism of its derivative nature. One of the horror webcasters, completely angered about the latest Stab movie (what’s with the flamethrower?), has a real issue with the lack of a numeral in its title. Despite being the eighth installment, it’s just called Stab, like the first one. Yeah, why isn’t it called Scream 5, the filmmakers correctly expect you to ask. Screaming “legacequel” isn’t a good answer.

The motives of the killers, meant to satirize toxic online fan culture and how they seem impossible to please, are a real stretch. Instead of taking the time to make their own movie the Ghostfaces believe they should inspire an actual filmmaker with their killing spree. They oppose fiction. They insist thrillers “based on actual events” are better. Perhaps we should be relieved they don’t film any of this.

One of the most irritating cliches of a slasher film is the Undead Dead, that moment when the villain seemingly put out of commission forever suddenly jumps back to life for one last jolt only to finally be put down for good. I appreciate how in one instance, one babyface instantly realizes this and resorts to what turns out to be an unnecessary overkill. But in an earlier sequence, when Ghostface gets shot three times point blank, the shooter starts to flee only to return, you know, just to make sure although not in a smart way. How are you no-selling that to kill off a major character?

The steady hand of Wes Craven, the director of all four previous chapters, is sorely missed here. (He died of cancer in 2015.) Even his lesser entries had their moments whether it be a laugh or a decent scare. No such luck with number five. With plans for a sixth installment already in place, this series should’ve died along with him.

Dennis Earl
Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
Tuesday, October 4, 2022
2:23 a.m.

Published in: on October 4, 2022 at 2:23 am  Comments (2)  

The King Of Projection

I don’t feel shame
I don’t feel guilt
You will not destroy
Everything I’ve built

Redirecting accusations
Hoping one will land
Saddled with an imagination
So pitifully bland

The king of projection
Would prefer I fail
That I resign with a whimper
That I turn and bail

You never expected
A counter-offensive
A barrage of bile
Putting you on the defensive

Deflecting blame
Pointing fingers
Frustrating silence
Bitterness lingers

Too bad, so sad
You should have never returned
You waited too long
I’m no longer concerned

You don’t deserve mercy
Not a single crumb
You wasted my time
You’re so fucking dumb

If payback was the mission
I’d be out for blood
I’d be dragging your name
Through the fucking mud

You denied your wounds
No-sold your rage
Until the curtain fell
On the blackened stage

Years of repression
Spilled out on the screen
Ejaculating vitriol
Coming clean

While I’ll keep thriving
No matter what I do
You’ll keep posting
Hoping for a view

I was never the villain
But I’m deliberately blunt
How else to tolerate
Such a miserable cunt

Dennis Earl
Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
Monday, October 3, 2022
10:14 p.m.

Published in: on October 3, 2022 at 10:15 pm  Comments (1)