Here’s my Ben Affleck story since he’s in the news, for all the wrong reasons (i.e., being Harvey Weinstein’s buddy and groping Hilarie Burton). Hilarie Burton’s story of Affleck’s louche conduct with her rings true. I know what it’s like to be humiliated by Ben Affleck. He used to be one of my customers in my old job delivering the mail, and I said hello to him once because I saw him in the lobby of his production company where he used to park his Harley (yes in the lobby), and he gave me that Hollywood look that said, who are you, and am I, a famous movie star, supposed to know you? And he said nothing, just looking at me like that, making me feel like something he stepped in. Then again, there might be another explanation for his response–maybe his true personality is as wooden as his performances.
They ought to have a Dario Argento month at TCM, and appropriately it should be during October, the month of Halloween. They have months for all sorts of actors and directors, such as Alfred Hitchcock and Stanley Kubrick, but they never have one for the Italian horror maestro Dario Argento. This is clearly an oversight by TCM. Maybe a write-in campaign for a Dario Argento month would be in order.
Not only has Hollywood slighted Argento for many years, as his films never get wide release in this country, now it is learned that the powerful film producer at Miramax Harvey Weinstein raped Argento’s daughter Asia, according to an interview with her in a recent article in The New Yorker.
Hollywood needs to clean up its act, and they need to pay homage to the great horror director Dario Argento, the man who gave us Deep Red, Suspiria, Tenebre, Bird with the Crystal Plumage, and a raft of other great horror thrillers.
The French horror film Raw is a well-crafted movie, but I didn’t find it scary. It made me nauseous in parts, but I never felt scared. It was interesting to watch, mostly because of the actress Garance Marillier, who is quite intriguing. She always seems to dominate the screen. If you’re looking for scares, I wouldn’t suggest this film. It’s more of a coming-of-age story with disgusting scenes in it. As such, it is well done.
This season is off to a good start. Even though the show has politics in it, it’s not about the politics, it’s about the horror. Political events serve as a backdrop to the horror of a bloodthirsty cult menacing a small town in Michigan and, in particular, a woman, Ally, who lives there with her lesbian lover and their child. The show’s depiction of a cult evokes the Manson family’s slaughter of Sharon Tate and her friends in a Benedict Canyon mansion at 10050 Cielo Drive, which her husband Roman Polanski was renting from music talent manager Rudolph Altobelli, on a hot August night during the Summer of Love in 1969.
Absurdly and ludicrously, everybody goes crazy in Michigan after Trump beats Hillary in the presidential election, none more so than Ally, the Hillary supporter, and Kai, the Trump supporter. Ally lives in constant terror and slips in and out of psychosis. Meanwhile, Kai goes bonkers, paints his face with Cheetos, and assembles a cult of murderers, which is when the killer clowns appear and massacre a family, and the horror begins.
Bryan Cassiday’s new taut thriller Force of Impact is the book the mainstream media doesn’t want you to read. Nevertheless, the book will be published. Stay tuned for more information on the exact publishing date. As for now, you can still read sample chapters at Kindle Scout but only for thirteen more days.
An exclusive Hollywood club of movers and shakers has secrets to hide and the power to keep them hidden in the supercharged thriller Force of Impact.
The Kindle Scout campaign for Bryan Cassiday’s new thriller Force of Impact has launched at Kindle Scout. Read seven sample chapters for free.
Here is the cover image:
Blood Drive is a wild and crazy show on the SyFy network. It’s a brutal grindhouse series reminiscent of the Walter Hill movie The Warriors and Quentin Tarantino flicks. Unlike Tarantino flicks, and to its credit, it doesn’t contain long spiels of banal dialog. It doesn’t have time for endless dialog.
The cars in Blood Drive are something else. You see, they don’t run on gas; they run on human blood. After all, what can you expect in 1999? Say what? 1999? I must have been asleep that year. Oh well, the first episode was ludicrous fun with a plethora of action, violence, and oceans of blood. Whether the rest of the episodes can maintain the churning momentum remains to be seen. (How many times can you watch humans being fed into car engines amid blood splatter?) But so far, so good. This show has plenty of energy and brazen panache abetted by a driving rock score, all of which I found refreshing. And then there’s Christine Ochoa, the most vicious of the bloodthirsty racers. How can we forget her?