directed by Fred Dekker (1986)

A bevy of unflattering taffeta and lace prom dresses, sculpted teenage boy hair, exploding heads, an axe murderer, aliens from outer space, a vengeful tough guy cop, frat pranks, cryogenics, flame throwers, grotesque slugs, zombie cats and dogs and even some brief nudity and a touching youngman friendship… yep there’s a lot to love about The Night of the Creeps.

I put the movie at the top of my queue due to it’s comparisons to The Night of the Comet, my personal favorite movie of the genre. That genre being tongue in cheek horror comedy that’s not afraid to offer genuine scares as well as laughs. The Stuff and Scream could also be applied.

The others I mentioned you may have heard of but even a movie nerd like myself was less aware of this little, funky 80’s gem. Part of the reason is that it wasn’t released on DVD until October of last year (which was also the reason why it’s been on my queue with a very long wait for months). Truly until it’s release an underground cult classic, bootleg VHS’s of the movie were passed among fans and sold on ebay.

Of course, it is what it is and I don’t want to over hype it. It’s fun, it’s a great way to take your mind of anything for a couple hours and it’s the best work of Fred Dekker who also helmed House, Robocop 3, and The Monster Squad (which didn’t hold up quite as well as I had hoped).

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directed by R.J. Cutler (2009)

The September Issue is a fairly straight-forward documentary that offers an exclusive peek into the creation of Vogue’s biggest, most important and most popular issue, yet still manages to feel a bit remote and arm’s length. The film focuses primarily on the tight-mouthed and crossed-hand critiques (which I seldom agreed with) of Editor-in-Chief Anna Wintour and, at the other end of the spectrum, the spirited work and luminous presence of Creative Director Grace Coddington. And while you can almost glimpse the actual woman behind the severe haircut when she reveals that she’s pretty much the family’s frivolous black sheep and hangs out with her daughter (who has no apparent interest in following on her mother’s footsteps), Wintour remains as aloof as you’d expect – though not quite the industry monster Meryl Streep portrayed he as (but not quite as redeemable, either).

Aside from coming off dismissive and ice cold, her most monstrous deeds are, in my opinion, touted throughout the film as her greatest achievements: bringing back fur and putting celebrities on the covers of fashion magazines. Quite frankly, I am not impressed – particularly with the latter. It was tough to watch this epic fashion tome built around the mediocre starlet that is Sienna Miller, especially when the more adventurous Italian Vogue broke ground with their all Black issue the same year and pictured Agyness Deyn with soldiers on their September issue… but I’m digressing into my own qualms with the publication (which I stopped subscribing to years ago in protest of Jennifer Aniston’s 14th cover story).

While the September Issue is an obvious must-see for fashion fans, those of you who have never been inclined to pick up an issue of Vogue will still find it rather amusing (to borrow from Wintour’s lexicon). It’s at its best when Coddington, who is this week’s style icon as well as the author of this week’s book, is on-screen.

Click here to see the rest of The September Issue

directed by Jane Campion (2009)

There’s a reason some people find the state of contemporary romance films dull, trite, and unwatchable, and for the most part, I’m one of those people. But in the hands of master filmmaker Jane Campion (whose best work is still the bloody skinemax-tastic In the Cut), the tired and staid genre is given fresh life with Bright Star.

Quiet energy radiates from the impressive cast: the beautifully fey and almost disturbingly rail thin Ben Whishaw as poet John Keats and the refreshingly non rail thin, spirited and (please forgive me Reese) quite pretty Abbie Cornish as the love of his life, Fanny Brawne. Filling out the cast – to my complete surprise – was Paul Schneider as fellow poet Charles Armitage Brown, whom you might recognize as Mark Brendanawicz from Parks and Recreation.

So many historical films feel like little more than tight-lipped actors in big costumes pontificating in period accents on museum sets, but there’s a lived-in, natural feel to the settings and the incredible clothing (multi buckle flats and three tiered ruffle collars, please make a come back!) of Bright Star. But don’t get me wrong, Campion’s vision of the period is characteristically stylized and visually romanticized. Crisp white curtains billow with spring breezes from every window, exquisitely serene and simple bedrooms look like paintings of dignified restraint, every garden is overgrown with the most sumptuous wildflowers.

Her signature touch elevates the sometimes slow (it’s just way too long) but sometimes heart-twitteringly romantic (couldn’t help but get flushed watching the first kiss) tale of love and heartbreak that’s been told in some way or another a million times (guess who’s going to die? The one that went out in the cold and came back with a cough!).

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directed by David Lynch (1986)

Blue Velvet is an example of the work of an artist with a singular vision at its best. Next only to the first season of Twin Peaks, Blue Velvet is David Lynch’s tightest, most dynamic, haunting and effective work. Still, it manages to be surprisingly unseen even by people who claim to be fans of Lynch’s work. As a girl I was obsessed with the movie long before I even saw it, I’d speculate about the plot based on the poster until my parents relented and let me watch it years later in my early teens.

In this highly symbolic tale of the dark side of small town America, a remarkable cast (Isabella Rossellini, Dennis Hopper, Laura Dern, Dean Stockwell, Brad Dourif, and Jack Nance) acts out a disturbing melodrama turned on its ear (both figuratively and literally). Even with the deliberate pacing – and as those of you who have seen it can attest, everything about this film is deliberate: from the color of the hallways, the angle on the stairwells (only Lynch can create scary stairwells, see Laura Palmer’s house) to the hum and tone of the rooms – the action moves rapidly. It’s a wild ride, not unlike the joy ride a certain insane character demands.

It’s a Lynchian film through and through and unlike anything else you’ve seen, though it’s not for everyone. I can’t quite believe I’ve failed to recommend it before now, but better late than never. And if you’ve seen it before, it only gets better with each subsequent viewing.

Click here to see the rest of Blue Velvet

directed by George Butler and Robert Fiore (1976)

It’s always been hard for me to believe that Pumping Iron is a great movie, not just as a piece of bizarro kitsch, but a respected documentary that  frequently tops reasonable peoples’ lists of their favorite films… until I watched it, of course. The film, set during and before the 1975 Mr. Olympia competition in South Africa, follows the king of the sport, Aaanold as well as his upstart competition, a then sweet and dopey kid named Lou Ferrigno, his friend and fellow champion, Franco Columbo and other lesser known men striving to achieve success in the unique world of body building.

The movie shares much with some of my favorite documentaries: the well renowned The King of Kong and the criminally forgotten Derby in that it’s an intimate portrait of a small subculture that is strange to most of us; it’s always fascinating to get into the minds of people obsessed with what they love.

It’s a well made piece of vérité that’s infinitely quotable:

“It’s like I’m cumming all the time” – Arnold

“I’m the kind of person that’s like the kind of dog that’s going to bite back” – Mike Katz

“I was always dreaming about powerful people – dictators and things like that” – Arnold

“Milk is for babies. When you grow up you drink beer” – Arnold

After years of being unavailable, the DVD can now be widely purchased, so do enjoy!

Click here to see the rest of Pumping Iron

directed by Wes Anderson (2009)

Wes Anderson’s movies have a particular hipster artistry that sometimes yields poignant and aesthetically pleasing magic (Royal Tenenbaums, Rushmore), other times it results in slightly annoying, self satisfied quirkiness (Steve Zissou, and, so I’ve heard, Darjeeling Limited). Fantastic Mr. Fox falls squarely on the magical side, not only in terms of the plot and the story (by Roald Dahl, which Anderson and screenwriter Noah Baumbach greatly expanded on for the film), but the stop motion animation is simply amazing.

The set, character, and costume design (I love Mr Fox’s cord suit and his son’s home made super hero get ups) is unerringly charming and whimsical and I hope it inspires more delicately thoughtful stop motion features in this era of crass computer animation (Pixar excluded, of course). Drastically unlike those churned out kid’s flicks, Fantastic Mr. Fox is far more stylized and perhaps  even more delightful for stylish parents than their children (wacky sing-a-longs with Jarvis Cocker, anyone?), and the tone is decidedly more subtle, sophisticated, and bittersweet than usual talking animal fare. I went with my office after an exhausting season of late nights and we all walked out like a bunch of kids with big smiles on our faces.

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Directed by Ralph Bakshi (1978)

Believe it or not (I’m hoping my facetiousness is apparent), I was a huge Tolkien fan when I was a kid. I’m sure I can’t remember what year it was, but the night my dad brought home our first family VCR we rushed out to the (sadly now defunct) Video World and grabbed the two tapes my brother and I would watch again and again over the next several years: the Rankin/Bass Hobbit and John Boorman’s the Emerald Forest (for years that was his favorite movie, go figure… BTW: Boorman nearly adapted LotR himself, he reused the sets he built for Excalibur).

I actually had two maps of Middle Earth hung on my bedroom wall (one was next to an image of the members of Public Enemy hanging out in a maximum security prison; pretty sophisticated juxtaposition of the kind of things boys in their pre-teens are drawn too – thanks for offering the tools needed to create such a dynamic collage, Prints Plus!).

I hoarded copies of the author’s books, which wasn’t all that easy considering that until the advent of the Book Barn years later, there really was no local spot that dealt in used books, though occasionally the Booksmith in New London would have an unusual looking pressing of Smith of Wootton Major and Farmer Giles of Ham.

And in an gesture I’m still in awe of, the first time I met my father-in-law he presented me with a hardcover copy of the edition of the Hobbit he himself illustrated (awesomely).

But of all things Tolkienian, the Bakshi movie has made the deepest impact.

I’m not going to list to list its many inaccuracies (Tolkien enthusiasts have already complied lists taking care of that), and I’m not going to compare it to Peter Jackson’s films (plenty of articles are out there for the reading); while there’s no way to deny that this movie has its flaws, it’s an amazing work of art and it’s the imagery I’m really, really into.

I’ve collected a number of stills below/after the jump giving special attention to what I think is the film’s finest sequence: Frodo’s encounter with the Black Riders just outside Rivendell; it’s here that Bakshi’s impressionistic vision is most successful. As the wounded Hobbit breaks away from his party, the background dramatically fades to an expressionistic, nightmarish landscape, partly rendered in slow motion. It’s an absolutely amazing series of shots that truly captures the terror of the Ring Wraiths and Frodo’s almost submarine decent into their world of shadow.

Click here to see the rest of The Lord of the Rings

directed by Matt Tyrnauer (2009)

Valentino: The Last Emperor is beautiful, inspiring, and as touching as it is uplifting. The film captures the process and excitement behind the couturier business as well as the glamour of the lives of those involved. The emotion comes not only from impeccable hand made gowns, but particularly from the enviable love and business partnership between Valentino and Giancarlo Giammetti who have been weathering the changes in trends and making women look beautiful together for 45 years.

Captured among these often exhilarating images, appropriately set to the score of Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, is the designer’s swan song – and an elaborate, over the top decadent one at that. For his 45th anniversary there are parties on top of parties, gallery shows, and runway presentations fit for a king… or an emperor.

One is left in awe of his accomplishments and saddened by the end of an art form. His is truly an extraordinary life, the kind of magical and seemingly fictional life of a modern aristocrat, and being permitted a peek inside it is amazing.; and it may just bring you to tears.

Click here to see the rest of Valentino: The Last Emperor

It's a painful thing to have gone through, watching The Doom Generation, and every time I'm reminded of it, whether by seeing that dumb looking kid's face or hearing the words Gregg Araki, it's like a flair up of agony. Come to think of it, not unlike the sensation one might experience living with a chronic STD.

This indie road trip to hell sits comfortably atop my mental list of the worst movies I have ever seen; even watching seconds-long clips on You Tube is supremely irritating and infuriating.

While I don't assume too many people are in queue to re-watch this piece of trash from a decade that brought us so many fulfilling edgy indies, I still feel obligated to warn you dear readers about its evil ways.

I'm reaching deep into the archives of terrible films because I was really good to myself this year and saw none of the movies topping early worst-of-2009 lists (no Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen for me) but I would like to bring up a few dishonorable mentions: like the fact that Jason Segel really creeped me out in bad ways in I Love You, Man and my friend Mike's prediction of what might truly be the worst film of 2009. It stars something called Travolta Williams.