The problem with The Last House on the Left, despite it being loosely based on the Ingmar Bergman film The Virgin Spring (a fact you can throw around if you feel guilty and need to defend this movie in a conversation), is that it's perhaps too successful in its exploitative intentions. It pushed the envelope of taste to the extreme, particularly for its time, and even today in the age of prime time autopsies and torture-based box office hits, it's the crudest and rudest rape/murder/revenge exploitation movie I've seen. The legend, which is oft told in DVD featurettes, is that it had kids vomiting in their seats when it was in theaters.

Sean Cunningham, who went on (with more than a little influence from Mario Bava's Bay of Blood) to define the slasher genre with Friday the 13th franchise, and Wes Craven, who fairly recently redefined that genre by populating a film with characters well versed in classic horror movie tropes and created the extremely imaginative Nightmare on Elm Street series (probably the most influential thing to me as a kid, and what made me want to grow up to make horror movies) met each other and made this film long before they really knew what they were doing. And it shows.

The tone of the movie is part Lassie, mixed with low budget porn, and there's definitly a health class movie vibe. The DVD transfer is about as good as the wobbly VHS I first saw eight years ago, but then again, a crisp picture and high fidelity audio don't always do a horror movie good. In my some of my favorites, like Martin and Let's Scare Jessica to Death, a sort of amaturish grit and soiled realism only make them more eerie; Last House on the Left benefits from its unskilled hand. When the murderers are sitting around their grimy apartment, you can almost feel the stains and smells. It is indeed the last place two “teens” (the actresses are clearly a good ten years older than their characters, which makes one scene where Mari talks excitedly about how her boobs have filled out since last summer especially odd) would want to be stuck.

The film is all about juxtaposition (another word you can use if someone accuses you of being a total asshole for liking this movie). The music, which seems to have been done by a severe schizophrenic, is goofy and Beverly Hillybillies-esque and feels terribly off on top of a scene where the killers have two young girls in the trunk of their car. When things get violent–and they do, for a long, drawn out squirm-inducing time–scenes of brutality (with I might add include blood that looks too real) are contrasted with hunky dory scenes of Mari's parents making a birthday cake and the local bumbling cops farting around.

After the killers have finished with the girls, in a wicked twist of fate they end up having to stop for the night at Mari's parents house; the revenge portion of the film commences and you get the feeling that they were once contestants on Double Dare with the elaborate shaving cream and electrocution set-ups they stage to enact their vengeance. At the same time, when it's their turn to commit violence, violence that the audience will surely crave after watching the previous two thirds of the film, I feel the parents get short changed and the movie ends without complete satisfaction.

I'm not going to lie, the violence is very snuff-like. It's not fun and mindless like most slasher movies tend to be, a complaint which is itself an odd thing: why is it worse for on-screen violence to be shocking and sickening? Is it better than making murder into an entertainment that no longer phases us? I guess that's an argument that could go on and on, but the truth is that I doubt Craven and Cunningham were really considering either side of it. They created, for better or worse, a highly effective exploitation film that is just too good at being bad.

Romantic goths of the late 1980's and early 90's had a friend indeed in Johnette Napolitano, the scratchy voiced, raven haired front woman of Concrete Blonde. Bloodletting, with its roses set against a black background album cover is probably their most recognizable album thanks to the mega hit Joey.

The title track, Bloodletting (the Vampire Song), is a far superior–and a great addition to any Halloween party play lists you might be getting together this week.

O you were a vampire and baby
I'm the walking dead!

The song is inspired by vampire author Anne Rice; catch up on the early 90's goth style with the video.

When tall and handsome Duane Jones was cast in Night of the Living Dead, George Romero had no intention of making history by casting the first black actor as a non-ethnic lead in an American film, Jones was just the best actor among Romero's friends (a tidbit of information I picked up from Document of the Dead). The film, which still stands as a masterwork, benefits from his strong, dignified presence. If the zombies were trying to breakdown the door to my farmhouse, there are worse heroes to ask for by your side than Jones.

His career in movies, which only includes a few other films like 1986's almost-should-have-been-good Vampires and a film called To Die For, which I learned from this clip is unfortunately not the Gus Van Sant classic. He spent years as a professor of Theater and English at NYU and was artistic director at The Richard Allen Center. He died at age 52 of heart failure.

While I've never considered myself a particularly big fan of The Addams Family, I sure seem to remember watching it quite a bit when I was a kid. I also remember catching episodes of its more blue collar rival, The Munsters, too. Man, what a strange world it was when not one, but two sitcoms focusing on spooky families were in competition on network TV. In my book, The Addams Family is the superior show. Not only is its source material top notch (Chas Addams's wickedly funny New Yorker cartoons), but it's got the beautiful Carolyn Jones (take that, Yvonne De Carlo).

Jones is most recognized as spooky matriarch Morticia, a role her sister said was custom made for her offbeat sense of humor, but there's much more to her career. She was lovely with haunting eyes, and can be seen in The Man Who Knew Too Much, The Seven Year Itch, House of Wax, a couple of Elvis flicks and How the West Was Won. Her award winning role came with The Bachelor Party, where she played a “philosophical nymphomaniac” and shocked everyone by cutting off her blond hair and dying it jet black. What a brilliant style decision from an independent woman (she consciously chose to focus on her career and refused to give it up for family life).

Jones died far too young, at the age of 53 of colon cancer.

I love Halloween, clearly, and therefor I love when Halloween themed stuffs hits stores, most so with candy. Willy Wonka this year has a “Creepy Treats” bag perfect for trick or treaters and party guests.

The SweetTarts, which took the holiday most seriously by actually forming the tangy sweets into the shapes of skulls and bones get the highest grade for effort. Second in that respect would be the Nerds Bumpy Warts, which consists of grape flavored bumpy nerd shell and a jelly bean like center that did not thrill me in theory but tasted better than expected to a girl who has very little love for jelly candies.

Now the other two options are a bit lazier. Laffy Taffy simply made a graphic of a nose-less monster with bubbles of wax billowing from his ears and call it ear wax. The candy itself is yellow, which was maybe at least considered as the most ear wax-y color.

Perhaps least impressive are the Runts Fungus Toe Nails, which are just the bananas from regular Runts. Of course, it almost goes without saying that these are not least impressive in taste because banana runts are delicious but it's also really quite lazy. Still, taking the banana runts out of context and selling them as toe nails is also pretty ingenious and effective. You could really gross a kid out with them. Which is at least one of the things that Halloween is all about.

In a city with so many great walking options and parks, I'd have to say that Greenwood Cemetery is one of my favorites. It's larger than you might expect, so every visit is a unique experience. Fortunately my favorite part of the now Historical National Landmark is very easy to find, as it's the main gate. A Gothic spired entrance, the gate is home to huge nests of birds, including wild parrots (!) though I've never seen one myself. On a crisp autumn day, it's great to watch the birds flying in and out and you can hear their cries from a long way off.

A nice way to continue for a walk is towards the huge, impressive chapel, then down to the Water Side Path that takes you along the Valley Water pond and fountain. If you continue down that path to Lake Ave,?make a left onto the windy Eglantine Path that offers plenty of large shading trees and a pretty view of Sylvan Water lake.

It's also a welcome place (they even hand out maps to visitors at the main gate) where many beautiful, strange, eerie, headstones, are around every bend and gorgeous foliage, trees, vistas and hillsides are there for you to explore. This visit we saw the grave of stained glass artist Louis Comfort Tiffany (other famous people buried here include Leonard Bernstein and Boss Tweed). On another visit we reached the highest point in Brooklyn where a civil war monument looks out at the Statue of Liberty in salute.

It's really a beautiful place to take a stroll and also a favorite of ours because its so easy to get to.

The interior of the Ahwahnee Hotel in Yosemite National Park in California may look familiar to most. That is because it was the inspiration for Stanley Kubrick's “Overlook Hotel” in The Shining. However, as creepy and solitary as the Overlook was in the dead of winter, the Ahwahnee remains warm and inviting year round. The Hotel was built in the early 20th Century, designed by Gilbert Stanley Underwood who built a few other large lodges in couple other National Parks. ?br/>
The interior of the hotel can be described as California Native American with some Art Deco thrown in. ?n The Shining they copied the Grand Living Room identically with it's walk in fire places, over sized?urniture, geometric murals, bright red elevator doors (although not complete with blood pouring out of them like they did in the film).

The Ahwahnee has a formal dining experience for those that want to shell out the dough, complete with amazing views, cocktails, and a grand atmosphere. Or then again, you can get a drink at the bar (sadly not tended by a ghost) and enjoy the same atmosphere, cocktails, views and even soups as in the fine dining room for a fraction of the cost.

It's on the best things about the hotel is that everyone feels welcome. It may have a fancy interior, and a limited number of rooms, but even a rock climber straight from an afternoon adventure will feel just as much welcome as a couple on a romantic evening out. ?o feel free to lounge in the great hall with an old fashioned, and wonder how anyone could have ever have gone crazy in this room. Ah the magic of the movies.

If you're a fan of the merciless, spoof comedy of Sacha Baron Cohen (Borat and Ali G) and you have yet to discover High Spirits with Shirley Ghostman, you are in for a treat. Like Baron Cohen, Shirley, an odd Liberace-like, insensitive man-woman, played by edgy (sometimes too edgy) comic Marc Wootton interacts with real people who are not in on the joke. Prepare to squirm in your seat in both laughter and total discomfort.

The show begins with a live performance with an unwitting audience where Shirley gets psychic vibes off people with his spirit dog, Sheeba, like “Right, is there someone here, OK? With something going on in their life?” and channels dead celebrities, most hilariously a racist Colonol Sanders (possibly the single most astonishing and funny bits of the whole series) and Lady Di and Dodi Fayed. These had us nearly crying.

Other top segments are Spirit Academy, a reality show (with real contestants, again unaware of the joke) battling in an insane asylum for the title of Britain's Top Psychic. At one point, to prove their abilities, Ghostman asks them to all run away from the person who they think is going to be kicked out. The reality spoof is stunning. It's shocking what people will do to be in TV, especially crazy people who believe they're psychic. But again, I think the same thing watching nearly any reality TV.

Another favorite sketch involves Alf, a former exterminator turned pervy ghost buster, “Busting makes me feel good”. With a homemade contraption strapped to his back, mostly made up of an old vacuum cleaner he gets rid of ghosts in nutter's home. One lady, who Alf finds very attractive, is a goofy weirdo with an apartment that' half painted and willingness to trap the spirit with her sexuality.

Available on DVD only in the UK, this aired briefly on BBC America, for which I suppose I should be grateful, but the channel has yet to show any of his other highly praised work or re air these. So grab an all region player and open your world to yet unavailable BBC comedy, starting with this to get you in the Halloween spirit.

Any excuse to make Deviled Eggs, any at all and I am there. Jim too, it's probably the food we are most in happily agree on, so we eagerly made them for the Halloween season, (sort of) ingeniusly, adding on a slice of cornichon and ta-dah!?We have Devils Eyes Deviled Eggs! This is a recipe of our own, just a basic with our favorite flavors thrown in, vary it according to your own tastes:

6 eggs – hard boiled, peeled and halved

Place yolks in a bowl with about 1 1/2 Tb Mayo, 2 tsp Dijon, a few splashes of Tabasco, and a tsp of capers. Smash together and refill the egg white halves with the mixture. Add slice of pickles on top to make “eyes” and sprinkle a dusting of paprika on top. Enjoy!