What scares
Andrew Goodridge?

He’s giving us a month to find out.

     Follow along with Andrew as he plans to get into the spirit of his favorite holiday by watching a different horror movie every day in the month of October.

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October 4

When there’s no more room in Hell,
the dead will go shopping

“Dawn of the Dead” (1978)
Directed by: George A. Romero
Screenplay by: George A. Romero

     Sometimes I wonder what 17-year-old Andrew would think of 27-year-old Andrew.

     I think he might be disappointed that 10 years later I’m not closing in on my 10th Oscar for Best Screenwriting. And that I still haven’t yet said “Listen, Steve, I know you made that little dinosaur movie 20 years ago, but you just don’t have the vision to direct my movie. I’ll go ahead and do it.”

     He might also wonder why I no longer live by the anarchist tenants set forth in movies like “Fight Club,” which I worshipped far more than I understood. When I was younger, I tried hard to adhere to the anti-consumer philosophy I think I only half-grasped in that movie, though I’m very sure I completely missed that “Fight Club” both glorifies and mocks both sides of consumerist extremism.

     But I know I tried to reject the notion of status symbols and the Western ideals of wealth and prosperity. I think I probably hated the mall.

     But now I kind of like the mall.

     Today, I like a good sweater vest. I enjoy places like Banana Republic and The Gap. I feel secure knowing that even when life gets tough, there’s always a fleece pullover or a big-screen TV or a stainless steel appliance out there to comfort me.

     But I hope that doesn’t mean I’m a mindless, zombie-like consumer, like the cultural stand-ins being satirized in “Dawn of the Dead” (1978), George A. Romero’s second, and sharpest, zombie movie in his well-known series. Here, the walking dead are instinctively attracted to the mall, which, as a (living) character remarks, is a place they almost instinctively flocked to when they were alive. Much can be said — and probably has already been said — about the film’s darkly comic story that parallels the need to mindlessly consume material goods with the need to mindlessly consume human flesh because, hey, all these other guys are doing it.

     But when I watched this movie, I found myself thinking that it would be kind of cool to live at the mall.

     That’s not to say that I missed the point entirely. There’s something subversively funny about watching these few survivors try to make an upscale dwelling in a mall store room in the midst of the zombie apocalypse. They upgrade their wardrobe, paint the walls, bring in fine flatware. But what’s the point of all these yuppie luxuries when there’s a hoard of zombies just on the other side of the door? Of course, Romero was really questioning what’s the point of all these yuppie luxuries, period.

     Though I can see obvious changes in myself over the years, it’s a mixed blessing to say that Romero’s work behind the camera has remained relatively consistent. “Dawn of the Dead,” just like “Night of the Living Dead and “Day of the Dead,” is merely passable as a work of filmmaking, though it remains a classic because it comes from an era that exalted clever allegory and incisive subtext over flashy camerawork and a slick, high-budget aesthetic. Romero’s more recent entries — “Land of the Dead,” “Diary of the Dead,” “Survival of the Dead” — have been critical and financial failures, possibly because he’s still working with the mindset that a heavy-handed and even didactic fable will be more appreciated than special effects and explosions. Unfortunately, contemporary audiences don’t agree, though it’s hard to deny that he’s lost his touch at least a bit and is just retreading the same old ground.

     Yesterday, I mentioned that the 80s was the best decade to find fun in horror films. I think “Dawn” really helped catapult humor to the forefront of the horror genre (along with “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre,” which others find darkly funny; I guess I don’t get the joke). The makeup and zombie gore had a light-hearted tone that was fun 30 years ago and fun today. And more than 40 years after he reinvented the zombie genre, no one has come close to matching what Romero does best.

     And that’s something I’m certain I’ll still believe in 10 more years.

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     Andrew Goodridge likes movies so much that he married one. He teaches Audio/Video production, Filmmaking, and Film & Television History in Fort Worth, Texas. He would one day like to have a Pug, or maybe a Bulldog.

Andrew Goodridge can be reached at goodridge@everythingnac.com

What scares
Andrew Goodridge?

He’s giving us a month to find out.

     Follow along with Andrew as he plans to get into the spirit of his favorite holiday by watching a different horror movie every day in the month of October.

---

October 3

Klowns make me happy

     I’m too happy to enjoy being unhappy.

     Too many contemporary horror films (“Saw,” “Hostel,” Rob Zombie’s “Halloween”) revel in nastiness and gore and sadistic torture. Where’s the entertainment in that? When did we forget that movies — even horror movies — can be fun?

     The horror genre has gone through more change than any other, and filmmakers never had so much fun as they did in the 80s. “Killer Klowns from Outer Space” (1988) is one of the goofiest and most bizarre entries in an era that began to reject the somber and the macabre in favor of the darkly and morbidly funny. “Killer Klowns” is silly and self-aware like the later installments in the “A Nightmare on Elm Street” and “Friday the 13th” series, but it spares the audience the blood and guts and gore that can turn a fun time into a disturbing one. Watching Freddy Krueger turn someone into a roach and then squish them to death borders on repulsive. But watching an evil alien Klown use a death ray to spin someone into a giant cotton candy cocoon is nothing short of awesome.

     If I had to choose between watching Jigsaw slowly torture people to death and a movie that treats the audience to an alien clown killing a group of bystanders with a shadow puppet, well, I’m fine with the choice I’ve made.

     “Klowns” gives a perverse twist to all circus imagery imaginable, from guns loaded with popcorn to balloon-animal search dogs to circus-tent spaceships. And it’s all just fun. The Klowns are creepy, but equal parts hilarious.

     Toward the end, the characters have an obviously self-referrential conversation about the Klowns’ motives. Where are they from? Why are they here? What do they want from us? These questions may be logical in any other movie, but the audience understands immediately that these questions won’t be answered. We don’t want them to be answered. We just want more Klowns.

     And we get plenty of them. As was the trend in 80s horror, “Klowns” favors repetition over twists and turns, and the movie feels less like an expertly structured story and more like an amalgam of clever clown-related mayhem. None of this advances the plot, but there’s a time and place for plot and a time and place for fun. “Killer Klowns” knows which side of the fence it’s on, and it marks its territory with a wink and a nudge.

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     Andrew Goodridge likes movies so much that he married one. He teaches Audio/Video production, Filmmaking, and Film & Television History in Fort Worth, Texas. He would one day like to have a Pug, or maybe a Bulldog.

Andrew Goodridge can be reached at goodridge@everythingnac.com

What scares
Andrew Goodridge?

He’s giving us a month to find out.

     Follow along with Andrew as he plans to get into the spirit of his favorite holiday by watching a different horror movie every day in the month of October.

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October 2

A kick of nostalgia right in the wolf-dork.

“The Monster Squad” (1987)
Directed by: Fred Dekker
Screenplay by: Shane Black and Fred Dekker

     I wish I had been more of kid when I was a kid.

     I suppose I liked toys and cartoons and sports heroes and pizza. But the boyhood fascination with monsters must have passed me by. I didn’t know a Gillman from a Wolf-man before I went to college. But, in the last several years, I’ve been making up for lost time. I’m finally part of that collective adolescent boy experience, where anything with fangs and gills and fur and claws is the end-all be-all of cool. I just had to wait until I was 27 to be 10.

     When I think of other adults’ houses, I usually picture them decorated like something out of a Crate & Barrel catalogue. They probably have fancy names for regular items – like “runner tables” instead of just “skinny desks” – and they use terms like “earth tone” to describe the fabric on their chaise lounge. Maybe they look for “inspiration” in modern art pieces for their upcoming bathroom remodel.

     I don’t do any of these things. I don’t think my shower curtain matches my bath mat. My couch is wonderfully comfortable, but it’s not so stylish and I imagine my first wife will make me get rid of it. I don’t have decorative plates hanging on the wall.

     What I do have decorating my wall, however, is monsters.

     The Creature from the Black Lagoon. The Mummy. The Mole Man. The Metaluna Mutant. Both Frankenstein’s monster from “Frankenstein,” as well as Frankenstein’s monster from “Son of Frankenstein” (the aficionado will notice the subtle differences). Now that I’ve lived long enough to be called a “grown up,” I’ve finally discovered a fascination for monsters.

     I wish I would have been introduced to the wonders of monsters when I was little. If I had, I probably would have been just like the characters in “The Monster Squad” (1987), a nostalgic look back at a time I never knew. “The Monster Squad” is about a group of kids who are walking encyclopedias for monster trivia. “What’s the second way to kill a werewolf?” they quiz each other. They argue whether or not there really is a second way to kill a werewolf, until they get a chance to find out for themselves.

     Yes, monsters are invading their small suburban town, and these kids are the only ones who can stop it. Dracula is after an amulet of sorts, and he summons The Wolf-Man, Frankenstein’s Monster, The Mummy, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon to help him retrieve it. He looked around for The Invisible Man, but he couldn’t find him.

     “The Monster Squad” was co-written and directed by Fred Dekker, who made another 80s horror-comedy, “Night of the Creeps,” that will show up on this Horror-Movie-A-Day marathon at some point. Dekker has an obvious love for monsters and madmen made famous by Universal Studios in the 30s, 40s and 50s. He’s also got a keen ear for dialogue, and he writes the way 12-year-olds actually talk, which is partly why “The Monster Squad” couldn’t be made today (though I’m well aware of the proposed remake). The boys use surprisingly coarse language, the cool kid smokes, the protagonist’s parents are going through a bitter divorce, an old man (whose name is just “Scary German Guy”) is a Holocaust survivor, and the husky kid is referred to as, well, “Fat Kid.” Also, a special mention should be made of the genuinely scary and disturbing monsters designed by Stan Winston, whose name will pop up many times in the coming weeks.

     But all of these surprisingly adult themes and images in a kids’ movie make “The Monster Squad” the perfect fit for an adult trying to capture the spirit of being a kid. It’s also a great way to capture the spirit of Halloween, which, in Dekker’s eyes, is more about a love for the idea of the things that scare us, rather than the scares themselves.

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     Andrew Goodridge likes movies so much that he married one. He teaches Audio/Video production, Filmmaking, and Film & Television History in Fort Worth, Texas. He would one day like to have a Pug, or maybe a Bulldog.

Andrew Goodridge can be reached at goodridge@everythingnac.com

What scares
Andrew Goodridge?

He’s giving us a month to find out.

     Follow along with Andrew as he plans to get into the spirit of his favorite holiday by watching a different horror movie every day in the month of October.

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Introduction: October 1

You ain’t afraid of no ghost, but I am

     I don’t understand the appeal of being scared.

     Maybe that’s why I’m so fascinated with Halloween. I understand Thanksgiving: turkey good. Christmas is easy, too: presents good. Columbus Day: completely unnecessary paid day off work good. And though I love Halloween, its dependence on scares – and my reluctance to willingly be scared – makes the holiday a mystery.

     I’ve never been one to get a thrill from, well, getting a thrill. I suppose I understand the attraction in concept. There’s some visceral, primal draw to allowing ourselves to feel fear (which is probably the most visceral and primal of emotions). But that desire to be scared – that thirst for adrenaline – just isn’t in my makeup. I don’t like heights, so I stay off roller coasters. I don’t like bugs, so I skip the insect house at the zoo. I don’t like deranged, sadistic crazies, so I stay out of politics.

     But scary movies? That I can do. And what better way to get into the swing of all things scary than by watching horror movies for the entire month of October? I’ll write my feelings, thoughts, fears, and ramblings on each movie the following day.

     I’ve been planning for months to have a Horror-Movie-A-Day Festival. I’ve spent hours and hours making spreadsheets and databases to find just the right choices. I think I done good, kid.

     I’m particularly fond of 80s-era horror, and the HMAD Festival will certainly be nostalgic for the scary movies of my youth (“The Howling,” “Pumpkinhead,” “Critters”). But my wonderful girlfriend, Lindsay, will be my seatmate for the entire month-long filmic festivities, and she has helped to temper this list with a few lighter choices that may give a bit of respite from weeks of otherwise uninterrupted scares (“Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown,” “The Black Cauldron”).

     The list will date back to the silent era (“Nosferatu,” 1922) and run all the way up to the present (“Frozen,” 2010). Some I’ve seen and know to be great (“Bride of Frankenstein,” “Return of the Living Dead”); others, I’ll be watching for the first time and hoping to be horrendous (“Motel Hell,” “976-HELL”).

     Aside from “The Wolf-Man” (1941), which I’ll watch Oct. 22 to coincide with the full moon, we’ll be selecting the order of movies based on the whims of the day (and availability; there will likely be a bit of a backlog as Netflix customers flock to the virtual horror aisle as Halloween draws near). I’ll try to include an “Up Next” at the end of each column, though no promises.

     So, as October begins Friday, you can look for the first column to be posted some time Saturday. I look forward to reading your own thoughts on any movies I include in the HMAD column, and I’d love to hear about spooky movies you’re watching. For those of us who really love Halloween, it always seems to come and go so quickly. I’m hoping this will prolong the season.

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     Andrew Goodridge likes movies so much that he married one. He teaches Audio/Video production, Filmmaking, and Film & Television History in Fort Worth, Texas. He would one day like to have a Pug, or maybe a Bulldog.

Andrew Goodridge can be reached at goodridge@everythingnac.com