I'm not really a fluffy bunny, nor do I have any intention of pursuing said career path in the foreseeable future. For those who don't know, the phrase "I'm a fluffy bunny" is the 'safe word(s)' for at least one popular litigation fuel haunted house attractions where the scare actors are allowed to touch/grab/relocate you into various horrible settings.
This October has been a rough one. Our bank account got hacked at the beginning of the month, followed a week later by my car's inability to shift into any gears except third and fourth; meaning no interstate, no reverse, and every stoplight on the way to the mechanic was an exercise in spreading out of profanity. And then we lost the internet for a few days, which is enough to drive you into the arms of the primal monster within.
So it's been a bit of a mad dash to get into the Halloween spirit in the final week, but fortunately my job offered me the glorious opportunity to work three kid's events in a row. Needless to say (since I'm writing it instead) I will not be at the house for trick-or-treating this evening. Alternately, I will be running, screaming, hiding, and possibly be curling up into a ball as the mood strikes me while praying for the release of something less stressful; like nanowrimo.
But before I place my blog in bed and let it drift off to the nightmares that await it, I wanted to offer up some useful trick-or-treating tips that will hopefully make tonight's proceedings go smoother for those of you rooted in tradition.
1. The rules of trick-or-treating are a lie. You don't have to say "Trick or treat" to receive candy. The stranger whose sanctuary you're invading wants you to leave immediately. If you're carrying around one of those plastic pumpkin containers with an opening the size of a basketball hoop, the adult in question will likely have pitched in a box of nerds from the earliest comfortable distance.
2. Hold your bag open. And up. Remember, you want this encounter, the adult doesn't. Those Kit Kats would be all mine if not for you. Don't make me do all the work on top of it.
3. Don't try to be funny. Comedy is a sophisticated art form that requires years of failure to even scratch the surface of comprehension, much less master. You're a child. You know at most three pirate jokes related to your costume, and I've heard them before. There's nothing more unpleasant than having to fake laughter at a dying punch line, and the adult hates you enough already.
4. It's all the same processed sugar. You wanted the pink Starburst, but Stephanie got it, leaving you with the orange one. That's a tragedy, isn't it? You could try to learn the game of negotiation with Stephanie if it matters that much to you, or you could also consider the reality that your lack of pink Starburst is not quite as devastating as, say, losing access to your bank account, car, and internet all at the same time. And, no. You don't get to fish around in my bowl yourself.
5. There's no need to say thank you. I know you want to teach your children good manners, but I can see their delight as they greedily scurry off to their next victim, and that's enough gratitude for me. When you make them return to me, feeding them their only-important-to-you line of dialogue that's going to take them multiple provocations to utter, it makes the encounter twice as long. My Stepford smile takes energy, and I had to work today.
6. Never have kids.
7. Adults can trick-or-treat as well. I don't know who made the rule that twelve is the cut off age, but they can stuff it. The adult world is miserable, and any temporary release from our collective sorrow is a welcomed change. We need Halloween more than you do, and I'm not opposed to inserting a secondary Halloween in April to get us through tax season.
8. I'm Sam-I-Am. How do you not know this character? Green Eggs and Ham is a fairly popular book. I'm not a chicken, or Big Bird, or a witch, or a fire truck man (???). I'm also not the Cat in the Hat (how did you get that close and still screw it up?). If you don't know, you can ask. I don't mind waiting until your back is turned to seethe under my breath.
9. And lastly, but not leastly... Halloween is the one time of the year where we get to admit how truly horrible we all are. Even the concept or trick-or-treating is based around the threat of pushing a local resident closer to their breaking point if they don't comply with your demands. So tonight if you find yourself glowering at someone who deserves it and feel a twinge of remorse for shattering societal norms, I encourage you to get over it. You're only participating on one of our grandest traditions.
Happy Halloween!
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Thursday, October 26, 2017
Haunted Attraction 2017: The Checkered Game of Death
At long last (you know, I have things to do) I present this year's Halloween walk-through exhibit. It took me a little while to find the right place with a rich history, but here it is.
This is the (former) home of Miss Charlotte Parker, one of the few members of the upper crust of society to evade the Stock Market Crash of 1929. Her father George had been a successful mechanical draftsman for the locomotive industry. Upon his death, George's substantial assets were divided equally between Miss Parker and her much younger sister Henrietta.
The two sisters' handling of their inheritance could not have been more different. For Miss Parker, the comforts of familiarity were the key to her sense of peace. She never married, nor desired to, for such a change in her life would have been unacceptable. Months prior to the Crash of 1929, she'd decided to bring all of her wealth into her home, turning it into a sort of personal bank. As such, she benefitted from very lucky timing. But it was also not in her nature to help those who came calling for her aid in the years that followed. Some felt she was stingy (and called her many other things), but the truth is that she wished everything about her life to stay exactly the same, frozen in one moment of tranquility, and she felt she had the right to see it so.
On the other hand, Henrietta had felt that money was to be spent and its acquisitions enjoyed. She was not one to build a collection of wine bottles for very long without cracking them open. It's not to say that she was the typical 'prodigal daughter', but her lavish lifestyle was a point of contention for her older sister.
Henrietta died fairly young from illness. But not before giving birth to two sons, Bradley and Milton; and instilling a similar sense of frivolity in them at an early age. Her husband died within the year as well from the same illness, and the brothers were sent to live with Miss Parker, presumably against her wishes.
The brothers had a certain amount of money left over from Henrietta's inheritance, which they were free to spend as they wished. They took to playing games with formal rules and pieces, many of which were quite expensive to obtain in that day. Miss Parker's disdain of their "trivial pursuits" were ignored, and the tensions only grew as the brothers reached adolescence.
Then Miss Parker contracted the same illness that had taken the life of her sister. For months she became bedridden, and essentially neglected by the brothers; who by then had depleted their own finances and taken to dipping into those of their aunt. Her rage at this insolence, combined with her inability to do anything about it, resulted in a fever so inflamed that the news records suggest "it's a mystery as to how she has not burned to death from the inside."
The records unfortunately stop there. Neither Miss Parker nor the brothers are mentioned again. But the house still stands. But knowing what we know about the brothers, I wouldn't be surprised if they collected quite a number of interesting board game relics, maybe even got a sneak peek at some classics that wouldn't be released until many years later. Let's have a look inside.
Entranceway
First off, don't let the "1313 Dead End Drive" address concern you, that's just something the park officials thought would be amusing (you guys, seriously). We enter the foyer area which is completely barren of furniture. the overhead lights keep blinking off every few seconds showing phrases written on the wall in glow-in-the-dark paint, such as "Trouble ahead", "Aggravation", and "Roll the die" with the word 'the' crossed out and 'or' painted over it. On the floor is a huge circle, large enough for at least five people to stand in, that says 'start'; and a series of smaller circular tiles leading through the doorway into the next room.
This is the (former) home of Miss Charlotte Parker, one of the few members of the upper crust of society to evade the Stock Market Crash of 1929. Her father George had been a successful mechanical draftsman for the locomotive industry. Upon his death, George's substantial assets were divided equally between Miss Parker and her much younger sister Henrietta.
The two sisters' handling of their inheritance could not have been more different. For Miss Parker, the comforts of familiarity were the key to her sense of peace. She never married, nor desired to, for such a change in her life would have been unacceptable. Months prior to the Crash of 1929, she'd decided to bring all of her wealth into her home, turning it into a sort of personal bank. As such, she benefitted from very lucky timing. But it was also not in her nature to help those who came calling for her aid in the years that followed. Some felt she was stingy (and called her many other things), but the truth is that she wished everything about her life to stay exactly the same, frozen in one moment of tranquility, and she felt she had the right to see it so.
On the other hand, Henrietta had felt that money was to be spent and its acquisitions enjoyed. She was not one to build a collection of wine bottles for very long without cracking them open. It's not to say that she was the typical 'prodigal daughter', but her lavish lifestyle was a point of contention for her older sister.
Henrietta died fairly young from illness. But not before giving birth to two sons, Bradley and Milton; and instilling a similar sense of frivolity in them at an early age. Her husband died within the year as well from the same illness, and the brothers were sent to live with Miss Parker, presumably against her wishes.
The brothers had a certain amount of money left over from Henrietta's inheritance, which they were free to spend as they wished. They took to playing games with formal rules and pieces, many of which were quite expensive to obtain in that day. Miss Parker's disdain of their "trivial pursuits" were ignored, and the tensions only grew as the brothers reached adolescence.
Then Miss Parker contracted the same illness that had taken the life of her sister. For months she became bedridden, and essentially neglected by the brothers; who by then had depleted their own finances and taken to dipping into those of their aunt. Her rage at this insolence, combined with her inability to do anything about it, resulted in a fever so inflamed that the news records suggest "it's a mystery as to how she has not burned to death from the inside."
The records unfortunately stop there. Neither Miss Parker nor the brothers are mentioned again. But the house still stands. But knowing what we know about the brothers, I wouldn't be surprised if they collected quite a number of interesting board game relics, maybe even got a sneak peek at some classics that wouldn't be released until many years later. Let's have a look inside.
Entranceway
First off, don't let the "1313 Dead End Drive" address concern you, that's just something the park officials thought would be amusing (you guys, seriously). We enter the foyer area which is completely barren of furniture. the overhead lights keep blinking off every few seconds showing phrases written on the wall in glow-in-the-dark paint, such as "Trouble ahead", "Aggravation", and "Roll the die" with the word 'the' crossed out and 'or' painted over it. On the floor is a huge circle, large enough for at least five people to stand in, that says 'start'; and a series of smaller circular tiles leading through the doorway into the next room.
Living Area
There's a bit more furniture here, although it's all rotted beyond use. An unlit fireplace is off to the side, and a painting of what we can assume to be Miss Parker hangs from the chimney stones; the caption "The Old Maid" engraved in the frame. She sternly glares down at us.
If we meant to continue following the tiles on the floor, the feat is impossible as they continue in all directions, up the walls and across the ceiling. Randomly scattered next to the tiles are instructions to 'move back seven', 'move forward' two, etc. In the center of the room, on what's left of a coffee table, sits an Ouija board that seems to be spelling something on it's own ('Lose a turn' if you're interested).
As we move through the room, we spot a shelf overhead that looks like it was once a tunnel for a model train leading from and to another room. Now there's a row of brightly colored dominoes, which topple in sequence at our approach. Several moments later they reset themselves in reverse. The room narrows into a corridor with unfinished jigsaw puzzles adorning the wall; they look like family photographs, but none of the faces are completed. Slightly further down appears to be the missing pieces arranged on the wall to spell out "I want to play a game"; at which point we have our first semi-jump scare. A ghostly young woman (possibly Henrietta) pokes her head from opposite where we're looking to tell us "It's never the same game twice."
The Study
We enter the study and are greeted by the inimitable sound of a Speak & Spell rattling off the letters to 'Roll again'. Henrietta meets us again with no warning, ordering us to go to the head of the class. Sitting on a desk is a large cloth map of the world with plastic pieces scattered over various countries. An occasional gun shot, cannon, or explosion comes from the map. We climb a short series of five white platforms resembling steps, to reach the higher opening in the wall; letters painted on the platforms spell the word 'WORDS'. In the opening is a slide leading into darkness, which we have no choice but to take. A sound cue of child voices greets us with, "Oh, you're going down...down...down..down..."
The Basement
It's a little disorienting down here. We're surrounded by pipe works, which keep spraying us with mist through various fractures. At least someone saw fit to duct tape a wrench in front of one of the leaks. It feels like we're wading through a flooded area. Around the corner is a prison area with a police officer who demands to know if we've been sent here or if we're just visiting. Barred doors shake from the prisoners on the other side. Certain doors are unlocked as some prisoners have a 'get out of jail free' card. Towards the end of the room is a prison made entirely out of Jenga blocks. It shakes violently, with a boy's voice pleading to be released from within.
The Beach
It's then that we find out we're in a ship with the hull torn out. There's a wobbly bridge over some barrels leading out, but it's too dark to see the water which is apparently just below us. It looks like another ship is firing at us from a distance, as the sound of missiles hitting the area next to us gives us another spray. We pass a giant shark with its mouth gaping open, full of junk pieces like tires and human skulls. With no gaff hook available to us, the shark is just out of reach, which is implicitly good news.
Our path takes us into a swamp with trees blocking out most sightlines, and a sign pointing to Molasses Swamp. A huge rhinoceros-looking creature roars in our direction, but it's knee deep in molasses. The scout warns us not to get stuck. We get a series of jump scares from brigands who keep mistaking us for someone else. Three giant frogs eye us hungrily as we walk by, but they're really the misdirection from the hippo that lunges at us from the other side.
The Maze
This next room is well lit, but claustrophobic. It looks like we're on a frozen lake with huge icicles scattered about. Anthropomorphic penguins warn us not to break the ice, and we narrowly miss being crushed by a giant hammer. We go through a rotating tunnel that indicates an avalanche, and make a beeline for the cave ahead.
From here, we're sent back into darkness and a deliberately disorienting section, with lights that move in a tight labyrinth on a floor that tilts. The words "Run yourself ragged" light up in Lite-Brite pegs and a Simon-like spinner keeps flashing different colors around the exit. We find ourselves in a small room where we're surrounded by a Twister board, complete with piles of human limbs all wrapped up in each other that make a grab for us.
There's a flash of light above us, and the underside of a large playing piece comes crashing down where we are. Strobe lights and Spirograph patterns surround us, as the voice of an elderly woman laughs an insincere "Sorry!"
Entranceway 2
We emerge in a scene identical to the first room, except our path is blocked by an elephant spouting butterflies at us. Henrietta pops up to instruct us to "Go back four!" We make a sharp turn to our right and slip into Miss Parker's vault.
The Bank
The room is filled with stacks of colorful money, and a western shootout between bandits and a pair of deputies. We come close to slipping through the teller's office decorated as "Go" but the sheriff blocks our way, sending us past the cannon instead. We're startled on one side by a pewter dog, and a horse on the other. Headlights flash in front of us, followed immediately by the sound of a crash. A pewter car has saved us from being run over by Miss Parker in her plastic car filled with pegs. "Pretty sneaky, sis," she mutters. We get a Reverse card on the wall sending us on another sharp turn, this time to the left.
The Operating Room
Another maze. Lots of curtains here, but a series of black and white peg configurations guide us where we need to go (Hint: four black ones is what we're looking for). Doctors jump out with dares for us to do things like take out somebody's spare ribs for one hundred dollars. A dead end places us in front of a corpse whose red nose buzzes loudly. All the while, we hear a ticking sound, which ends in a ding every thirty seconds. As we leave the room, we find out the timer is attached to a table full of medical instruments under a transparent dome that pop up on every ding.
The Hall
The final stretch to get out of here is a long narrow hallway, with plenty of opportunities to be threatened by a man in a safari outfit wielding a wrench, a woman in a red dress with a candlestick, and so on. The hallway ends at the front door, which swings open to reveal "the dud" who proudly declares the game over. But a quick detour takes us into a side door through the kitchen. Human hand baking in the oven hammer on the glass from the inside, and we're screeched at by a giant rat creature which has been caged by a bell-shaped prison.
The Finale
The last room is another disorientation-driven experience. We're bombarded with visuals of Lego blocks, Slinkys, Hula-Hoops, Paddle Balls and marbles, before we come face to face with the ghost of Miss Parker (a projection on the wall). She peeks out from behind a giant Dungeon Master screen with an unsettling look of delight in her eyes. "You have failed your initiative," she whispers. We step out of the attraction and into night sky, but not without a cheap scare from a large mechanical dinosaur, known to a select few as Zoids Giant Zrk. Well, at least in death she finally learned how to enjoy play time.
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
13 Frightening Entrances: The Best of Horror Theme Songs
Say you're James Bond; well you don't have to say it, just pretend. Now imagine it's your off day. You've slept in a bit, watched some cartoons, maybe filled out half of a crossword puzzle. Now you hear the mail truck outside. You wait a few minutes so as to not appear too eager. You step outside. And your theme song starts playing. dunnn...Dunnn...DUNNN...Dunnn; you know how it goes. The sense of something cool about to happen. You get to the end of the driveway. And right on cue as you open the box. Ba Da! DA DAAAA! Da da dahhhh! And there it is! The most awesome water bill in the history of utilities!
The right theme song can allow a character to transcend their medium. It's true for all genres, but horror is a unique case where a baddie's music can actually serve as a placeholder, signifying their proximity to the audience when nobody on screen is meant to be aware of them. Many of these themes are so iconic that they appear on Halloween soundtracks with no real context, and they still work.
I've seen a few sites listing the best horror film theme songs and I thought I might try my own hand at it. I'm putting a few requirements on the songs I'm choosing, not the least of which is the song has to be specifically associated with a threat, so hero songs like Scooby-Doo are out. I also think they need to be traceable back to a single character or basic concept, so things like The Twilight Zone or The X-Files don't qualify. And I think the music needs to evoke some sense of fear, or at least unease. Darth Vader has a great theme, but it's more likely to get you pumped up than covering your eyes. Most of my selections are going to be predictable, but hopefully you'll see a surprise appearance or two.
Here then are my top thirteen picks for villain theme songs.
13. One, Two, Freddy's Coming For You (Freddy Krueger)
The first three entries are going to be kind of the runners-up. The reason why this one is way down at the bottom is because it's the only song on this list that relies on lyrics. Children are inherently self-centered, and it's not too much of a leap to transform a jump rope rhyme into a sociopathic chant. The message here is, you're going to die and nobody is going to help you. It's creepy, but it's also quite obviously trying to be creepy. I think we might see a better example of this concept closer to the top spot.
12. Why So Serious? (The Joker)
It's a nine minute piece on the soundtrack to The Dark Knight, but I'm mainly referring to the fundraiser scene. Composer Hans Zimmer uses a variety of instruments to create a discordant buzzing sound that feels like strings tightening until their absolute breaking point. I might have placed this slightly higher if it were from a horror film, but it's quite effective nonetheless.
11. Friday the 13th Theme (Jason Voorhees)
Apparently it's composer Harry Manfredini's own voice doing the iconic "ki ki ki ki ki...ma ma ma ma ma" himself (and no, that doesn't count as lyrics, it's vocal percussion. So there). It's primal, and instantly recreatable who wants to frighten/annoy their younger sibling, but it's not particularly versatile. It's like the chorus of "Who Let the Dogs Out", there's nowhere to go once the initial point has been made.
10. A Night on Bald Mountain (Chernabog)
Now admittedly the Modest Mussorgsky piece was 73 years old before the big guy appeared on the screen in 1940's Fantasia, but you really can't hear the melody without thinking of Disney's version of the devil (with apologies to Slavic mythology). While this is probably the most complex piece of music on this list, it ranks at number ten because of how easy it is to avoid the underlying threat. As long as you're not already dead, or Sora, or some schmuck trying to scale Bald Mountain at night, old Cherry really isn't going to be much of a problem for you.
9. Hello Zepp (Jigsaw)
One of the most recent entries on this list, Charlie Clouser's piece of incidental music appears 38 times throughout the first seven movies. Most horror themes indicate something bad is about to happen. This one means you're already screwed, probably for forgetting to wind your watch or losing your towel or not donating to UNICEF. Funny thing though, this song has not stayed in my head. If you play it, I'll immediately recognize the franchise. But for the life of me I can't remember how it goes.
8. Toccata and Fugue in D minor/The Phantom of the Opera (The Phantom of the Opera)
Yeah, I'm cheating here by using two songs for one guy. Johann Sebastian Bach's Toccata and Fugue has been associated with gothic horror as early as 1931's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It wasn't until the 1962 Hammer Film version of Phantom (starring Herbert Lom in the title role) that the piece became attached to the iconic masked organist. But ever since 1986, you can't mention the Phantom of the Opera without also thinking of the Andrew Lloyd Weber (and arguably Pink Floyd) composition of the same name. In the end, I can't really choose which one is the better representation of Erik Opera Ghost. The Bach is probably the song he's most likely to play on the organ, while the Lloyd Weber is what runs through his head; both being exceptionalism in isolation.
7. The Psycho Theme (Norman Bates)
Better known as Bernard Herrmann's Fingernails on Chalkboard for String Orchestra in E flat, this is music's most famous jump scare. On the downside, it's impossible to really experience the shock of this scene the way it was intended. Maybe you haven't even watched Psycho, but you've most definitely seen the sequence on A&E or a Youtube video, or any number of imitations (Gus Van Sant managed to muck it up). It's unavoidable. But it doesn't mean you can't appreciate the craftsmanship behind the slow setup. It's in your head right now, isn't it?
6. Something Lacking (Daniella)
I bet you have no idea what I'm talking about. I've slipped in one video game character, because this one is just amazing enough to compete with the big kids. Capcom's Haunting Ground (with music from composers Seiko Kobuchi and Shinya Okada) is a survival-horror game featuring Daniella as the second of four stalkers you have to evade. She moves like a malfunctioning robot, with her head and body bent at asymmetrical angles, and her theme reflects the whole concept of breaking down. "Something Lacking" is one of the most discordant pieces I've ever heard. While most songs on this list provoke feelings of dread or suspense, this is genuine terror. Run, you fool!
5. The Myth (lycanthropy)
Top five, and now it gets harder. I don't actually care that much for the 1982 film Cat People because I can't sympathize with their plight. The deal is, whenever they have sex they transform into panthers, and then they have to kill (usually whoever they had sex with) to change back. You know, there's a pretty obvious solution? It just involves, like, getting over it. But whatever. "The Myth" is the instrumental version of "Putting Out Fire", with David Bowie's hypnotic baritone voice humming the melody. Something ominous lurking beneath the surface. Waiting.
4. Main Title (Bruce the shark)
Contrary to popular belief, the Jaws theme isn't just two notes, but you can certainly recognize it from said pairing. John Williams may not ever be placed on Felix Mendelssohn's level, but he knows how to score a film soundtrack better than anyone. Courtesy of a troubled production, his "Main Title" had to fill in for the animatronic shark in a majority of scenes. Boy, is it effective. The music not only signifies the presence of the shark, but how fast it's closing in. "Today's secret word is 'tension'. Whenever you hear it, scream real loud!"
3. Halloween Theme (Michael Myers)
The 1978 film had a budget of about three hundred thousand dollars (the average cost today of a family night out at the movies). Probably to save a few bucks, director/writer John Carpenter composed the soundtrack himself; gracing us with "Halloween Theme", the unofficial theme of the actual holiday. An odd 10/8 meter, and rapid piano keys that mimic a typewriter, "Halloween Theme" is eerie. Don't believe me? Program it as your ringtone and leave your phone in the workroom. I guarantee you'll get some nasty e-mails from around the office.
2. Carol Anne's Theme (the spirits)
I am honestly surprised this one from 1982's Poltergeist never shows up on the scary music lists. You can thank Jerry Goldsmith for this gem. It sounds like a music box lullaby, which has always had a certain something-not-quite-right feel, and when it plays in the first act of the film over various Spielbergian shots of E.T.'s neighborhood you naturally fall victim to a false sense of family friendly security. And then the movie happens. One killer tree, some pool corpses, an extended sexual assault up the wall and across the ceiling, and a count of strangulation from a human sized stuffed clown doll (that they really should have known better than to have staring at the children while they try to sleep) later; this lullaby is perpetually menacing.
1. Tubular Bells (Pazazu)
Amazingly, the 1973 Mike Oldfield album was never written with the "scariest film of all time" in mind, or anything else for that matter. Like most creative people at their purest (in this case, nineteen years old) Oldfield was only following his muse, composing music for the sake of itself. Around the same time of the album's release, notoriously short-tempered director William Friedkin dramatically rejected the musical score for his romantic-comedy-that-took-a-wrong-turn-somewhere The Exorcist, and happened upon the Oldfield recording. Thus a legend was born.
So why does it work so well, and why is it at the top of my list? To answer the second question first, shut up. But more to the point, it involves the kind of abstract journey on which music can take you. I'm far from a music theorist, but minor keys can evoke emotions in an audience without ever indicating (or having to) why. In the case of "Tubular Bells", you naturally sense trepidation. Something is coming. Even if it's not as violent as a demonic possession, it's clearly something unsettling. And if you listen to this song while you're alone, you may find yourself glancing over your shoulder at the window or the closet door.
And when you factor in the percussive quality of bells, i.e. something striking something else, there's a subtle element of violence behind the music. Oldfield allegedly cracked some of the bells in the recording by hitting them too hard, and every added clang makes itself known. There's a musical passage that repeats like approaching footsteps, and a chaotic randomness that accompanies it. But unlike a more comedic counterpart, such as a Spike Jones song that welcomes you to the circus tent, "Tubular Bells" convinces you that it's your only floodgate between safety and...God only knows what. This is the scariest song here, maybe ever, because it can't fully be understood. That's why it's at the top of the list.
Good night.
The right theme song can allow a character to transcend their medium. It's true for all genres, but horror is a unique case where a baddie's music can actually serve as a placeholder, signifying their proximity to the audience when nobody on screen is meant to be aware of them. Many of these themes are so iconic that they appear on Halloween soundtracks with no real context, and they still work.
I've seen a few sites listing the best horror film theme songs and I thought I might try my own hand at it. I'm putting a few requirements on the songs I'm choosing, not the least of which is the song has to be specifically associated with a threat, so hero songs like Scooby-Doo are out. I also think they need to be traceable back to a single character or basic concept, so things like The Twilight Zone or The X-Files don't qualify. And I think the music needs to evoke some sense of fear, or at least unease. Darth Vader has a great theme, but it's more likely to get you pumped up than covering your eyes. Most of my selections are going to be predictable, but hopefully you'll see a surprise appearance or two.
Here then are my top thirteen picks for villain theme songs.
13. One, Two, Freddy's Coming For You (Freddy Krueger)
The first three entries are going to be kind of the runners-up. The reason why this one is way down at the bottom is because it's the only song on this list that relies on lyrics. Children are inherently self-centered, and it's not too much of a leap to transform a jump rope rhyme into a sociopathic chant. The message here is, you're going to die and nobody is going to help you. It's creepy, but it's also quite obviously trying to be creepy. I think we might see a better example of this concept closer to the top spot.
12. Why So Serious? (The Joker)
It's a nine minute piece on the soundtrack to The Dark Knight, but I'm mainly referring to the fundraiser scene. Composer Hans Zimmer uses a variety of instruments to create a discordant buzzing sound that feels like strings tightening until their absolute breaking point. I might have placed this slightly higher if it were from a horror film, but it's quite effective nonetheless.
11. Friday the 13th Theme (Jason Voorhees)
Apparently it's composer Harry Manfredini's own voice doing the iconic "ki ki ki ki ki...ma ma ma ma ma" himself (and no, that doesn't count as lyrics, it's vocal percussion. So there). It's primal, and instantly recreatable who wants to frighten/annoy their younger sibling, but it's not particularly versatile. It's like the chorus of "Who Let the Dogs Out", there's nowhere to go once the initial point has been made.
10. A Night on Bald Mountain (Chernabog)
Now admittedly the Modest Mussorgsky piece was 73 years old before the big guy appeared on the screen in 1940's Fantasia, but you really can't hear the melody without thinking of Disney's version of the devil (with apologies to Slavic mythology). While this is probably the most complex piece of music on this list, it ranks at number ten because of how easy it is to avoid the underlying threat. As long as you're not already dead, or Sora, or some schmuck trying to scale Bald Mountain at night, old Cherry really isn't going to be much of a problem for you.
9. Hello Zepp (Jigsaw)
One of the most recent entries on this list, Charlie Clouser's piece of incidental music appears 38 times throughout the first seven movies. Most horror themes indicate something bad is about to happen. This one means you're already screwed, probably for forgetting to wind your watch or losing your towel or not donating to UNICEF. Funny thing though, this song has not stayed in my head. If you play it, I'll immediately recognize the franchise. But for the life of me I can't remember how it goes.
8. Toccata and Fugue in D minor/The Phantom of the Opera (The Phantom of the Opera)
Yeah, I'm cheating here by using two songs for one guy. Johann Sebastian Bach's Toccata and Fugue has been associated with gothic horror as early as 1931's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It wasn't until the 1962 Hammer Film version of Phantom (starring Herbert Lom in the title role) that the piece became attached to the iconic masked organist. But ever since 1986, you can't mention the Phantom of the Opera without also thinking of the Andrew Lloyd Weber (and arguably Pink Floyd) composition of the same name. In the end, I can't really choose which one is the better representation of Erik Opera Ghost. The Bach is probably the song he's most likely to play on the organ, while the Lloyd Weber is what runs through his head; both being exceptionalism in isolation.
7. The Psycho Theme (Norman Bates)
Better known as Bernard Herrmann's Fingernails on Chalkboard for String Orchestra in E flat, this is music's most famous jump scare. On the downside, it's impossible to really experience the shock of this scene the way it was intended. Maybe you haven't even watched Psycho, but you've most definitely seen the sequence on A&E or a Youtube video, or any number of imitations (Gus Van Sant managed to muck it up). It's unavoidable. But it doesn't mean you can't appreciate the craftsmanship behind the slow setup. It's in your head right now, isn't it?
6. Something Lacking (Daniella)
I bet you have no idea what I'm talking about. I've slipped in one video game character, because this one is just amazing enough to compete with the big kids. Capcom's Haunting Ground (with music from composers Seiko Kobuchi and Shinya Okada) is a survival-horror game featuring Daniella as the second of four stalkers you have to evade. She moves like a malfunctioning robot, with her head and body bent at asymmetrical angles, and her theme reflects the whole concept of breaking down. "Something Lacking" is one of the most discordant pieces I've ever heard. While most songs on this list provoke feelings of dread or suspense, this is genuine terror. Run, you fool!
5. The Myth (lycanthropy)
Top five, and now it gets harder. I don't actually care that much for the 1982 film Cat People because I can't sympathize with their plight. The deal is, whenever they have sex they transform into panthers, and then they have to kill (usually whoever they had sex with) to change back. You know, there's a pretty obvious solution? It just involves, like, getting over it. But whatever. "The Myth" is the instrumental version of "Putting Out Fire", with David Bowie's hypnotic baritone voice humming the melody. Something ominous lurking beneath the surface. Waiting.
4. Main Title (Bruce the shark)
Contrary to popular belief, the Jaws theme isn't just two notes, but you can certainly recognize it from said pairing. John Williams may not ever be placed on Felix Mendelssohn's level, but he knows how to score a film soundtrack better than anyone. Courtesy of a troubled production, his "Main Title" had to fill in for the animatronic shark in a majority of scenes. Boy, is it effective. The music not only signifies the presence of the shark, but how fast it's closing in. "Today's secret word is 'tension'. Whenever you hear it, scream real loud!"
3. Halloween Theme (Michael Myers)
The 1978 film had a budget of about three hundred thousand dollars (the average cost today of a family night out at the movies). Probably to save a few bucks, director/writer John Carpenter composed the soundtrack himself; gracing us with "Halloween Theme", the unofficial theme of the actual holiday. An odd 10/8 meter, and rapid piano keys that mimic a typewriter, "Halloween Theme" is eerie. Don't believe me? Program it as your ringtone and leave your phone in the workroom. I guarantee you'll get some nasty e-mails from around the office.
2. Carol Anne's Theme (the spirits)
I am honestly surprised this one from 1982's Poltergeist never shows up on the scary music lists. You can thank Jerry Goldsmith for this gem. It sounds like a music box lullaby, which has always had a certain something-not-quite-right feel, and when it plays in the first act of the film over various Spielbergian shots of E.T.'s neighborhood you naturally fall victim to a false sense of family friendly security. And then the movie happens. One killer tree, some pool corpses, an extended sexual assault up the wall and across the ceiling, and a count of strangulation from a human sized stuffed clown doll (that they really should have known better than to have staring at the children while they try to sleep) later; this lullaby is perpetually menacing.
1. Tubular Bells (Pazazu)
Amazingly, the 1973 Mike Oldfield album was never written with the "scariest film of all time" in mind, or anything else for that matter. Like most creative people at their purest (in this case, nineteen years old) Oldfield was only following his muse, composing music for the sake of itself. Around the same time of the album's release, notoriously short-tempered director William Friedkin dramatically rejected the musical score for his romantic-comedy-that-took-a-wrong-turn-somewhere The Exorcist, and happened upon the Oldfield recording. Thus a legend was born.
So why does it work so well, and why is it at the top of my list? To answer the second question first, shut up. But more to the point, it involves the kind of abstract journey on which music can take you. I'm far from a music theorist, but minor keys can evoke emotions in an audience without ever indicating (or having to) why. In the case of "Tubular Bells", you naturally sense trepidation. Something is coming. Even if it's not as violent as a demonic possession, it's clearly something unsettling. And if you listen to this song while you're alone, you may find yourself glancing over your shoulder at the window or the closet door.
And when you factor in the percussive quality of bells, i.e. something striking something else, there's a subtle element of violence behind the music. Oldfield allegedly cracked some of the bells in the recording by hitting them too hard, and every added clang makes itself known. There's a musical passage that repeats like approaching footsteps, and a chaotic randomness that accompanies it. But unlike a more comedic counterpart, such as a Spike Jones song that welcomes you to the circus tent, "Tubular Bells" convinces you that it's your only floodgate between safety and...God only knows what. This is the scariest song here, maybe ever, because it can't fully be understood. That's why it's at the top of the list.
Good night.
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
Meat Loaf -From Hell and Back: The Grand Ole Wagnerian Opry
Mark Twain famously stated "Wagner's music is better than it sounds", although he was actually quoting Edgar Wilson "Bill" Nye the Humorist Guy.
So in the mid-seventies, when a young composer named Jim Steinman began pitching a futuristic version of Peter Pan as a "Wagnerian rock opera" to record executives, you can imagine the collage of rejections that followed. It's likely that many of them had no idea what 'Wagnerian' meant, and those that did were probably even more turned off by the idea. Hell, up until this very moment I didn't actually know the definition of the word (having the enormous dramatic scale and intensity of a Wagner opera) but I think I've always understood it on an emotional level.
The short version, Steinman (who I'm going call Jim from now on, because I've listened to his music my whole life and I feel like I know him personally) is audacious. Most song writers strive to hit that bull's-eye with pinpoint accuracy, but Jim is the type who wants to see what happens if you catapult a wagon full of milk jars at the target. It's one brilliant shower of chaos momentarily unleashed that you will never forget.
I'm simplifying of course. If it was just about gusto, anybody could do that; whereas Jim truly is a talented musician. But the main difference between Jim and his compatriots of the time is he makes you feel like you're listening to a soundtrack, not an album. A soundtrack to a story that you can't possibly follow because the snippets really don't fit together, but you feel like you've experienced something from start to finish once the album fades. I guess, what could be more Wagnerian than that?
So in the spirit of Halloween, I've decided to give the Bat Out of Hell trilogy a full opera house treatment. So sit back and enjoy, keep flash photography to a minimum, and please keep all trash and screaming children out of the aisles and/or amphitheater. Remember, your safety is our inconvenient priority. Jerks.
So in the mid-seventies, when a young composer named Jim Steinman began pitching a futuristic version of Peter Pan as a "Wagnerian rock opera" to record executives, you can imagine the collage of rejections that followed. It's likely that many of them had no idea what 'Wagnerian' meant, and those that did were probably even more turned off by the idea. Hell, up until this very moment I didn't actually know the definition of the word (having the enormous dramatic scale and intensity of a Wagner opera) but I think I've always understood it on an emotional level.
The short version, Steinman (who I'm going call Jim from now on, because I've listened to his music my whole life and I feel like I know him personally) is audacious. Most song writers strive to hit that bull's-eye with pinpoint accuracy, but Jim is the type who wants to see what happens if you catapult a wagon full of milk jars at the target. It's one brilliant shower of chaos momentarily unleashed that you will never forget.
I'm simplifying of course. If it was just about gusto, anybody could do that; whereas Jim truly is a talented musician. But the main difference between Jim and his compatriots of the time is he makes you feel like you're listening to a soundtrack, not an album. A soundtrack to a story that you can't possibly follow because the snippets really don't fit together, but you feel like you've experienced something from start to finish once the album fades. I guess, what could be more Wagnerian than that?
So in the spirit of Halloween, I've decided to give the Bat Out of Hell trilogy a full opera house treatment. So sit back and enjoy, keep flash photography to a minimum, and please keep all trash and screaming children out of the aisles and/or amphitheater. Remember, your safety is our inconvenient priority. Jerks.
Act One: Bat Out of Hell
We open on a dark stage with a pair of car headlights on a lonely road come into view. They click off, revealing our first character inside the car; known to us only as the Poet. The opera is ultimately his story. The Poet is very loosely based on Jim, or more accurately his role in the development of the whole franchise.
We're going to be exploring the concepts of Heaven and Hell in this opera, but not necessarily as understood by Orthodox religion. In the most simplified terms, Heaven refers to a sense of ultimate connection, whereas Hell is a complete isolation. In much the same way as human beings are all compelled by two incompatible drives (the need to belong versus the desire to be exceptional), the theme of self versus community flows through the whole opera.
In the distance, off to the side and down a bit, a light glows. The Poet exits his car and begins the descent down to it. Cue the overture.
Bat Out of Hell: This is one of the all time great epic rock tracks, and it manages to sum up adolescence in the first two chords; loud and unignorable but still posed as a question. It's a teenaged tragedy song, where the guy on the motorcycle (usually named Johnny) dies at the end. But unlike "Leader of the Pack" there's no engagement ring, disapproving family, or plot for that matter. The guy is hot for the girl but loves his freedom too much to get tied down to her. Then he can't stop thinking about her and crashes his motorcycle. But his heart lives on, continuing his fast ride down the road on a metaphorical level.
And it's here we meet our second main character, the Voice (a semi-surrogate for Meat Loaf). The Voice needs to be exceptional and desires the freedom of the road above all else. The Voice could arguably represent the Poet's own ego. At the end of the song the Voice pulls his motorcycle up to the Poet and offers him a ride to where the light in the distance glows, the Carnival of Limbo.
The Carnival looks exactly like what it says, a combination circus and state fair lit by reds and oranges. At the far end is a large Gate, which we don't care about right now. Just remember it's there.
Standout line: "And nothin' really rocks and nothin' really rolls and nothin's ever worth the cost" -just because the percussion does something really cool underneath it.
You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night): Jim loves his long titles. The main thing about this one is it's divided into two sections, the spoken and the sung. The spoken is the more interesting. A male voice flirts with a female in one of the most bizarre pickup lines ever.
The spoken section takes place near the Gate, which is shrouded in shadow. A female figure, known from now on as the Angel, enters the Carnival passing near the Gate. The male voice is the Bat, which we don't see at this time. The Angel is surrounded by a white glow, and she's clearly flirting with the Bat. The dialog ends in a mutual respectful stale mate between them.
The action moves back to the Voice and the Poet for the song proper. They have arrived at the Carnival and the Voice is greeted by a chorus of denizens who seem to recognize him. The Voice presents himself as a Casanova to women, and kind of a consequence-free fantasy that the Poet wishes he could be.
Standout line: The increasingly agitated "Yes!"
Heaven Can Wait: The first song sung by the Poet, and it's a reflection on what he's experiencing at the Carnival. Again, this is not Heaven as death to paradise, but Heaven as accepting one's place in a community. Basically the Poet isn't ready to settle down, and he's assuming his life of freedom will be parallel to the wild adventures the Voice seems to have had.
Standout line: "And I know that I've been released but I don't know to where. Nobody's gonna tell me now and I don't really care".
All Revved Up with No Place to Go: I know I'm not talking that much about the music, but I'm assuming that anyone reading this has more than a passing familiarity with the three albums. Also, while the first album has the most raw passion of the trilogy, it's also the most shallow. This song in particular is great on its own but it doesn't really cover new territory. The Voice gets his third song and he's now taken the stage for the Carnival's denizens, establishing the common trait among them all as being unsatisfied.
I typically steer clear of sexual terms as much as possible (they're easy and obvious) but for the Bat Out of Hell trilogy they're inescapable. This song is about sexual frustration. And it provides a simple motivator for the Voice. Everything about him is looking for that sense of climax and not quite getting it. I expect we'll be revisiting this concept on a later album.
Standout line: Honestly none. Sorry Jim.
Two Out of Three Ain't Bad: The album so far has been epic, good, beautiful, and good enough. But this song is the first of two consecutive 'big guns' in the rock arsenal (read: the greatest anti-love song ever).
In presentation, we witness how the Poet got here in the first place. It's revealed that he was once in love with a girl who broke his heart, and then he kept his heart permanently guarded, wounding another girl in the process. Both of these characters are seen in flashback. Dora is the one that got away and Ruby is the one the Poet left behind.
*See what I did there? Nope? Okay, Dora is short for Pandora AKA Pandora's Box the all girl group Jim Steinman formed in the eighties which included singer Ellen Foley who appeared on the first Bat Out of Hell album. And Ruby means 'red' which connects to the name Russo, a la Patti Russo, the singer who toured with Meat Loaf for nearly twenty years. It's just not as cool when you explain it all is it?
Standout line: "But there ain't no Coupe de Ville hiding at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box". Only Jim Steinman could pull that line off.
Paradise by the Dashboard Light: If you've only heard one Meat Loaf song, it's this one. The Poet is taken into a tent where the Angel (remember the Angel?) gives him a little fortune telling insight into his greatest fear, settling down with the wrong person. The Poet is shown an alternate reality of what could have been and what he's running from. The girl in this sequence is actually Dora wearing Ruby's outfit as a deliberate amalgamation of the two females.
Again, I hate referring to things in blatant sexual terms but it's appropriate here. At several points in his career, Jim has built a song up to the point of musical orgasm (Holding Out for a Hero comes to mind), but here it feels like he's faking it by going into the major key. Whether or not this was intentional, it's effectively keeping with the motif.
Standout line: The whole baseball monologue, capped off by "Stop right there!". It's a thing of beauty.
For Crying Out Loud: Closing out the first album is this little gem that goes mostly unnoticed. The Carnival is closing and the denizens pack everything up and head through the Gate. The Poet leaves the way he came, leaving only the Angel and the Voice on stage. The Angel is on her way out when the Voice calls out to her with this song, hinting at a painful history between them (best left implied).
Plot-wise, this song reveals the Voice's fascination with the Angel; particularly her ability to handle joy and pain simultaneously (the Voice has proven by now he's all about pleasure-seeking and pain-avoidance). The Angel is flattered by his passion, but she's ultimately unattainable to him, bidding farewell. The Gate opens, demanding the Voice return to where he came, but his ego is too strong and he stays on this side as the act comes to a close.
Standout line: Not a line, but the loudest chord Jim and company could strike after several minutes of lullaby inducement (this being the moment the gate opens). If you weren't awake before, you are now.
Act Two: Back Into Hell
Act One was adolescence. Act Two is adulthood of around the age of thirty-five. Same setting, except we open on the Carnival grounds before the Gate opens up for business. The Angel has arrived early for purposes known only to her. And off in the distance, the headlights of the Voice's motorcycle are spotted in approach. He may very well have been chasing her for the past sixteen years.
I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That): While I don't think this song is as good as it's given credit for, I am pleased that the sequel album produced a track as iconic as the first album did. The Voice courts the Angel in full blown production while the denizens slip out of the Gate to set up the Carnival again. His words are sweet and thorough, but the Angel is still not buying it, and she rejects him.
Standout Line: "But I'll never forgive myself if we don't go all the way tonight." Thirteen words undo nine minutes of promises by revealing his true intentions. He wants sex, and everything else is just empty froth. Runner up: "Will you raise me up? Will you help me down?" The moment where she finally gets sick of his crap. She's toying with him, but anyone familiar with the song knows how many steps ahead of him she really is.
Life is a Lemon and I Want My Money Back: The Carnival is up and running, and the Poet has made his way back to it. It's implied that he's tried modeling his life off of the wildness in which the Voice has existed and it has paid off poorly for him. And now he returns to the place of his teenaged years where he first got the ideas in his head with an eight minute lament (because for all of Jim's amazing talent, he has no intuition regarding appropriate song length).
Standout line: "There's desperation!" Not when Meat Loaf sings it, but when the chorus calls it back to him. It sounds so very pained and angry from a bunch of faceless souls.
Rock and Roll Dreams Come True/It Just Won't Quit/Out of the Frying Pan (And into the Fire): Up next we have twenty minutes and thirty-five seconds of not much going on, maybe this should have been the intermission. All three of these songs are okay, but just that, and certainly not rock opera quality songs. The short version: music speaks for you, I'm frustrated, and Jim came up with a title that he liked and had to force a song on it. I don't know what to do with these songs except cram them into a medley to get them over with. Leave me a comment if you have a suggestion.
Standout line: None. Not a freaking one. Eleven hundred and seventy-seven words and I can't find anything memorable. Sorry Jim, but this really feels like lots and lots of filler. No worries though, you're about to have the crowning comeback of awesome.
Objects in the Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer than They Are: In all of Jim's catalog, I can only think of one that might challenge this as his all time best (and we'll get to it). This isn't teenaged angst where you're afraid of the world as you perceive it. This is the result of the beat down that only adults can process the long term effects of.
Allegory, symbolism, and a three act structure of brokenness. The Poet returns to the lonely road, having not found the answers he'd hoped for, and engages in self-reflection. He lets the unhappy memories spill out until he's reached full meltdown before finally getting in his car and driving away.
Standout line: "I'll probably never know where she disappeared." The song is thoroughly melancholic, so it never pretends that there's going to be a moment of joy tuck away in there. His first memory is of a childhood friend who was killed in an accident, and his second was of his abusive father. We're not fooled in the third verse when he starts singing about 'the girl' (Dora). What should be a happy experience is inevitably going to take a turn south, it's only a question of what happened to her. And then we find out. He doesn't know. And that lack of answer is more gut wrenching than any tangible tragedy.
Wasted Youth/Everything Louder than Everything Else: It's at this crucial juncture that the Bat awakens (remember the Bat?) and gives the audience the first glimpse of his physical form; a wing, some teeth, glowing eyes, but nothing fully visible. His voice relays the spoken tongue-in-cheek monologue. Then the Voice assumes control of the Carnival's crowd and belts out his credo.
"Everything Louder" is a fascinating song, in that it succeeds and fails at the same goal. It comes out of the gate at full throttle and tries so very hard to top itself without making it. We're back to the sexual metaphor unfortunately, but this song it doing everything in its power to reach climax. Maybe it's the result of trying too hard, but it winds up not getting there. The Voice may not even realize it, but we're in adulthood now. Sometimes that's the first thing to go.
Standout line: "If you want my views of history then there's something you should know. The three men I admire most are Curly, Larry, Moe." The line stands out for completely the wrong reason. It's stupid. This may be the only time Jim's lyrics have honest to God fallen flat. Luckily we're able to shake it off, because for any other artist that would have been the jump the shark moment.
Good Girls Go to Heaven (Bad Girls Go Everywhere): This song was originally written for Pandora's Box. With that in mind I think the female voice should reclaim it. For this opera, it's performed by the Angel.
While it's not specified, the Angel clearly comes from a place other than the Gate, and subsequently the Carnival's denizens. She a little wiser than anyone else here, and more openly sympathetic. The message behind these lyrics is, you don't have to give up all your passions, just find the balance.
Standout line: "You've been nothing but an angel every day of your life and now you wonder what it's like to be damned." Gee, I can't imagine why that would speak to me...
Back into Hell/Lost Boys and Golden Girls: "Back into Hell" is an instrumental. The Gate opens just a little, and the forces on the other side try to recapture the Voice to bring him back where he belongs, but he's too fast. He escapes by fleeing the Carnival and looking down on it from the spot where the Poet was last seen. From here he sings Act Two's epilogue.
Standout line: "And we'll never be as young as we are right now." I'll just let that speak for itself.
Act Three: The Monster is Loose
Another thirteen years go by. Meat loaf and Jim Steinman have a falling out that time can't repair fast enough, and the Bat Out of Hell franchise gets caught up in the divorce. Not getting a third album would be tragic, but you can't do it without both artists. Enter step-producer Desmond Child.
The Steinman purists disavow this album purely on Jim's lack of involvement, and yes, his baby was stolen from him. But sometimes shit happens, and you can only move forward. Bat 3 exists because of Child, and damn if he doesn't know what he's doing. First, he's a better record producer than Jim, there's no way around it. Second, look at his Wikipedia page. His fingerprints are all over everything you listen to. He's both talented and versatile. And finally, he produces a Bat out of Hell album with (and I can't believe I'm saying this) humility. He's only there to complete Jim's trilogy, matching his style as best as he can without outshining him. Desmond Child is a hero.
And thus, we open Act Three with the introduction of our final character, the Kid.
The Kid isn't literally a kid, and may not even be human; his origin is left intentionally ambiguous. He might represent a younger version of the Poet, and what could have been had he faced his demons instead of running from them. Or he could be something else entirely. Whatever he is, Act Three opens with him alone on the stage, stumbling across the unopened Gate. Like the lure of Pandora's Box (the actual box, not the musical group), he's compelled to peek inside. And all Hell breaks loose.
The Monster is Loose: In a special effects light show similar to the climax of Raiders of the Lost Ark, the Kid releases the Bat in its abstract form. By the end of the song, it has possessed the Kid, but we get one beautiful full spread-winged reveal of it at the song's climax.
And how about that climax? Child's opening contribution effectively matches Jim's sillier lyrics but supports them with an orchestra crescendo that I think even Beethoven would have respected.
Standout line: A musical one. The way the bridge teases the chorus, backs off, and then builds again four times as strong before hushing for about three seconds and then erupting like the final drop on a flume ride is worth the price of the album.
Blind as a Bat: I'll admit I usually skip this track. It sounds much bigger than it is, which in a way is Child capturing the whole of Jim's talents including the weaker bits. This is the Voice in a nearby field (probably among gravestones for the décor) calling out to the Angel. Naturally she doesn't come when called.
Standout line: "Your love is blind, BLIND as a bat" and not in a good way. It's painful enough on the ears hearing Meat Loaf scream the all caps word every time he gets to it, but knowing how badly he messed up his voice over the years makes one wonder if it could have been avoided with a little care.
It's All Coming Back to Me Now: The first Jim Steinman song on the album shifts the focus to the Poet, wherever he is in the world. He happens upon Dora after so many years, and that spark of attraction is still there; she feels it too. But the song gives more insight into just how unhealthy the relationship actually was.
This album's version Disney-fies a happy ending out the lyrics, but for this opera I'm going back to the original. It's not good.
Standout line: "There were those empty threats and hollow lies, and whenever you tried to hurt me I just hurt you even worse and so much deeper."
Bad for Good: We're back to the Voice. The Carnival has not been rebuilt yet but the denizens are crawling out of the shadows. The Voice performs one last time for them assuring them that he will never change (clearly a relic of Jim's unrealized Peter Pan opera).
Standout line: "I wasn't built for comfort I was built for speed." Just, wow. How's that mentality working out for you?
Cry Over Me: Ladies and gentlemen, presenting songwriter Diane Warren, the woman responsible for the rest of the music you listen to. We catch up with Ruby here (remember Ruby?) and see that she has not in fact passed on the "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad" curse, opting instead to embrace the pain. She has not healed from being unceremoniously dumped by the Poet, and for the first time she's experiencing the call to the Gate.
Standout line: It's hard to pick one, but "I want your heart broken, some sign of emotion" probably best encapsulates her motives. She doesn't want him back, she just wants to know that she actually mattered.
In the Land of the Pig, the Butcher is King: One of the few traces of the Jim Steinman Batman musical that we never got to see (I'm not making this up you know). The Bat now singing through the Kid is recreating the Carnival in front of the Gate, summoning the denizens from earlier.
Standout line: "You know what to say if they stand in our way. Don't stand in our way." The song is the Bat trilogy at its most gothic horror, but tucked away in the bridge is this really funny anti-joke. Q: What did Batman say to Robin to get him in the car? A: Get in the car. Hilarious!
Monstro/Alive: I kind of like the pairing of those titles. I'm going to start shouting "Monstro alive!" when I'm taken by surprise; we'll see if it catches on. "Monstro" is a dramatic instrumental where the Gate finally opens all the way revealing what's behind it. But surprise! Kingdom Hearts is light! The Angel steps out, and the trolls immediately take to the message boards to gripe about the opera's continuity. She kisses the Kid and the Bat inside him fades. The Carnival's reds and oranges are bathed in a blanket of blue and white (coincidentally, my high school's colors). The Kid performs "Alive" for the denizens, who in turn consider that therapy might actually have some benefits.
Standout line: "And if my shadow's all that survives, I'm still alive."
If God Could Talk: The Poet has made his way back to the spot on the road that overlooks the Carnival. He catches sight of Ruby heading there in the distance, even though she doesn't see him. He almost calls out to her but decides against it, expressing his thoughts to the audience instead.
Standout line: "Did you tear all the pictures of us living life together? Did you burn all the memories that have been made in a fit of rage?" I listened to this album well over a dozen times before I realized how good this song is. It's a complicated exploration of someone who wants forgiveness, knowing they don't deserve it.
If it Ain't Broke, Break It: The Poet gets back in his car and tries to drive off, but it won't start. He throws a fit inside worthy of Basil Fawlty when the Voice rides by on his motorcycle and hits the car with his fist, bringing it back to life. Curiously, the Poet follows the Voice down to the Carnival where the Kid has roused the denizens in a massive musical number known as 'the showstopper'.
Standout line: The underlying brass section that sounds like they're invoking the Peter Gunn theme. Anybody could strut confidently down a back alley without fear of assault if they've got this music playing.
What About Love?: Ruby has made it to the Gate. She and the Kid make eye contact and there are sparks of familiarity even if neither is sure why. They sing the duet together.
Standout line: "Don't let fate make the choice for us." Possibly the point of the whole damned opera. Thanks for sticking through this for as long as you have, by the way.
Seize the Night: Sung by the Angel. The Gate is fully open for the Kid and Ruby to go through (and beyond to better things). Slowly some of the denizens get the idea to go through the Gate as well. A few hesitate and some flat out turn away. Eventually the Gate begins to close, with the Angel remaining on the outside. The Poet decides at the last second to try to go through as well, but it shuts and disappears before he can get there.
Standout line: "Dies irae, Kyrie! Sanctus, Sanctus exultate!" Latin just sounds good.
The Future Ain't What It Used to Be: How do you go from exultation to despair in one track? Probably when you realize that you could have been part of something wonderful and let it slip by. The Poet realizes he's blown it every step of the way and sings his metaphorical death song, accompanied by the Angel before she makes her final exit.
Standout line: So very many. This is the song that challenges "Objects in the Rear View Mirror" for Jim's finest. But the line that I think carries the most weight is "It's always so cold, and I'm too young to be old." Both the Poet and the Voice have expressed a refusal to grow up, but the Poet leaves knowing too late how unrealistic not growing up was. As for the Voice...
Cry to Heaven: He never had any intention of going through the Gate. He loves his freedom too much. But now he finds himself nearly alone, with no denizens cheering him on. His life was exceptional but disconnected, and now he has to pay the price for it.
It's only at this moment that he notices Dora has been here the whole time. Her life has presumably unfolded in much the same way as the Poet's, leading her to the same Gate and ending up equally devastated. His final song is a lullaby to her.
Standout line: "Go ahead and cry like Hell." Curtain.
And thus, we open Act Three with the introduction of our final character, the Kid.
The Kid isn't literally a kid, and may not even be human; his origin is left intentionally ambiguous. He might represent a younger version of the Poet, and what could have been had he faced his demons instead of running from them. Or he could be something else entirely. Whatever he is, Act Three opens with him alone on the stage, stumbling across the unopened Gate. Like the lure of Pandora's Box (the actual box, not the musical group), he's compelled to peek inside. And all Hell breaks loose.
The Monster is Loose: In a special effects light show similar to the climax of Raiders of the Lost Ark, the Kid releases the Bat in its abstract form. By the end of the song, it has possessed the Kid, but we get one beautiful full spread-winged reveal of it at the song's climax.
And how about that climax? Child's opening contribution effectively matches Jim's sillier lyrics but supports them with an orchestra crescendo that I think even Beethoven would have respected.
Standout line: A musical one. The way the bridge teases the chorus, backs off, and then builds again four times as strong before hushing for about three seconds and then erupting like the final drop on a flume ride is worth the price of the album.
Blind as a Bat: I'll admit I usually skip this track. It sounds much bigger than it is, which in a way is Child capturing the whole of Jim's talents including the weaker bits. This is the Voice in a nearby field (probably among gravestones for the décor) calling out to the Angel. Naturally she doesn't come when called.
Standout line: "Your love is blind, BLIND as a bat" and not in a good way. It's painful enough on the ears hearing Meat Loaf scream the all caps word every time he gets to it, but knowing how badly he messed up his voice over the years makes one wonder if it could have been avoided with a little care.
It's All Coming Back to Me Now: The first Jim Steinman song on the album shifts the focus to the Poet, wherever he is in the world. He happens upon Dora after so many years, and that spark of attraction is still there; she feels it too. But the song gives more insight into just how unhealthy the relationship actually was.
This album's version Disney-fies a happy ending out the lyrics, but for this opera I'm going back to the original. It's not good.
Standout line: "There were those empty threats and hollow lies, and whenever you tried to hurt me I just hurt you even worse and so much deeper."
Bad for Good: We're back to the Voice. The Carnival has not been rebuilt yet but the denizens are crawling out of the shadows. The Voice performs one last time for them assuring them that he will never change (clearly a relic of Jim's unrealized Peter Pan opera).
Standout line: "I wasn't built for comfort I was built for speed." Just, wow. How's that mentality working out for you?
Cry Over Me: Ladies and gentlemen, presenting songwriter Diane Warren, the woman responsible for the rest of the music you listen to. We catch up with Ruby here (remember Ruby?) and see that she has not in fact passed on the "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad" curse, opting instead to embrace the pain. She has not healed from being unceremoniously dumped by the Poet, and for the first time she's experiencing the call to the Gate.
Standout line: It's hard to pick one, but "I want your heart broken, some sign of emotion" probably best encapsulates her motives. She doesn't want him back, she just wants to know that she actually mattered.
In the Land of the Pig, the Butcher is King: One of the few traces of the Jim Steinman Batman musical that we never got to see (I'm not making this up you know). The Bat now singing through the Kid is recreating the Carnival in front of the Gate, summoning the denizens from earlier.
Standout line: "You know what to say if they stand in our way. Don't stand in our way." The song is the Bat trilogy at its most gothic horror, but tucked away in the bridge is this really funny anti-joke. Q: What did Batman say to Robin to get him in the car? A: Get in the car. Hilarious!
Monstro/Alive: I kind of like the pairing of those titles. I'm going to start shouting "Monstro alive!" when I'm taken by surprise; we'll see if it catches on. "Monstro" is a dramatic instrumental where the Gate finally opens all the way revealing what's behind it. But surprise! Kingdom Hearts is light! The Angel steps out, and the trolls immediately take to the message boards to gripe about the opera's continuity. She kisses the Kid and the Bat inside him fades. The Carnival's reds and oranges are bathed in a blanket of blue and white (coincidentally, my high school's colors). The Kid performs "Alive" for the denizens, who in turn consider that therapy might actually have some benefits.
Standout line: "And if my shadow's all that survives, I'm still alive."
If God Could Talk: The Poet has made his way back to the spot on the road that overlooks the Carnival. He catches sight of Ruby heading there in the distance, even though she doesn't see him. He almost calls out to her but decides against it, expressing his thoughts to the audience instead.
Standout line: "Did you tear all the pictures of us living life together? Did you burn all the memories that have been made in a fit of rage?" I listened to this album well over a dozen times before I realized how good this song is. It's a complicated exploration of someone who wants forgiveness, knowing they don't deserve it.
If it Ain't Broke, Break It: The Poet gets back in his car and tries to drive off, but it won't start. He throws a fit inside worthy of Basil Fawlty when the Voice rides by on his motorcycle and hits the car with his fist, bringing it back to life. Curiously, the Poet follows the Voice down to the Carnival where the Kid has roused the denizens in a massive musical number known as 'the showstopper'.
Standout line: The underlying brass section that sounds like they're invoking the Peter Gunn theme. Anybody could strut confidently down a back alley without fear of assault if they've got this music playing.
What About Love?: Ruby has made it to the Gate. She and the Kid make eye contact and there are sparks of familiarity even if neither is sure why. They sing the duet together.
Standout line: "Don't let fate make the choice for us." Possibly the point of the whole damned opera. Thanks for sticking through this for as long as you have, by the way.
Seize the Night: Sung by the Angel. The Gate is fully open for the Kid and Ruby to go through (and beyond to better things). Slowly some of the denizens get the idea to go through the Gate as well. A few hesitate and some flat out turn away. Eventually the Gate begins to close, with the Angel remaining on the outside. The Poet decides at the last second to try to go through as well, but it shuts and disappears before he can get there.
Standout line: "Dies irae, Kyrie! Sanctus, Sanctus exultate!" Latin just sounds good.
The Future Ain't What It Used to Be: How do you go from exultation to despair in one track? Probably when you realize that you could have been part of something wonderful and let it slip by. The Poet realizes he's blown it every step of the way and sings his metaphorical death song, accompanied by the Angel before she makes her final exit.
Standout line: So very many. This is the song that challenges "Objects in the Rear View Mirror" for Jim's finest. But the line that I think carries the most weight is "It's always so cold, and I'm too young to be old." Both the Poet and the Voice have expressed a refusal to grow up, but the Poet leaves knowing too late how unrealistic not growing up was. As for the Voice...
Cry to Heaven: He never had any intention of going through the Gate. He loves his freedom too much. But now he finds himself nearly alone, with no denizens cheering him on. His life was exceptional but disconnected, and now he has to pay the price for it.
It's only at this moment that he notices Dora has been here the whole time. Her life has presumably unfolded in much the same way as the Poet's, leading her to the same Gate and ending up equally devastated. His final song is a lullaby to her.
Standout line: "Go ahead and cry like Hell." Curtain.
Tuesday, October 3, 2017
Halloween Open House/Return to Nevermore
If this is your first October with me, welcome to a month of nothing but Halloween themed blogs!
This has always been my favorite month, as the whole world seems to become drenched in melancholy while simultaneously liberating itself into a celebration of gallows humor. Halloween is that one holiday out of the year that says, "We're all going to die. Screw it! I'm going down happy!"
I'll get to the blog proper in a minute, but I want to draw your attention to the imaginary carnival I've been creating over the past two years, complete with games and a couple of spook houses. The place needs a name. I'm going to call it Annie's Acropolis, a tourist trap for all ages. There's some backstory behind the name, but no reason to bog you down in details right at the gate. For now, check out some of my past blogs: Decorating the Lawn serves as a decent welcoming, giving you a little personal background as to what Halloween means to me. I've got a soundtrack of ten lesser known Halloween-type songs playing in the background, and a Scooby-Doo pavilion for the kiddies if you were irresponsible enough to bring them (and when you're done watching the old stuff, be sure to pick up a copy of my original story Scooby-Doo's Unsolved Mystery).
A couple of other fun things you can do: check out my review of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, as well as its awful remake (did I spoil it), the first seven Saw films, Alice Cooper's "Welcome to My Nightmare" album and its equally awesome sequel, and we can so a Simpsons Treehouse of Horror marathon. You can also join me in a couple of short stories for a haunted hayride with a few of my fictional characters, and see a recap of Zel's fortune booth from last year. Oh yeah (and this is real) I got to star in an independent horror film called The Ogre, and I wrote a review of it.
But the main draw of carnivals are the haunted house attractions, and I have some of those. If you want a light puzzle, try The Zodiac's Labyrinth for a casual distraction. For something a little more along the lines of a room escape game, visit The Twelfth Toll, my tribute to survival horror video games. I currently have two walkthrough haunted houses for you to enjoy: MTV's House of Horror is based on the golden age of music videos (be sure to count the shout-outs), and The Maul of America is themed after a shopping mall from hell, featuring appearances by many of Universal Studios' original Halloween Horror Nights characters.
Okay, extended commercial over.
One inescapable name in Halloween lore is Edgar Allen Poe (you may have heard of him). Among his contributions to modern detective fiction and literary criticism is the sort of Gothic horror alphabet that has influenced generations of writers.
Poe's monsters were all contained in the human mind, typical that of an intellectual who found himself in conflict with various mental disorders; well before they would be recognized as such. His body of work predated that of Sigmund Freud, but if you look at Poe's essays you can spot early traces of what Freud would later develop into his Id-Ego-Superego model; suggesting both men were driven by the same passion, albeit with very different outlets. I don't use the word 'genius' lightly, but I do believe it applies to Edgar Allen Poe. He had a grasp on language that I could never hope for, and his conclusions regarding the human soul are some of the most brilliant ideas I've ever read on the topic.
But it's also worth acknowledging that Poe was not without his flaws. Among the most easily recognized shortcomings (his essays seethe with arrogance) is Poe's handling of his interchangeably unremarkable female characters. In all of his talent as a writer, he never seemed remotely interested in exploring Morella, Ligeia, and Annabel Lee as anything more than the narrative's McGuffin.
With that notion in mind, I offer up my first official Halloween blog post of 2017. This idea is over twenty years old (yikes) but I decided to finally sit down and hammer it out. I've taken the classic Janet Jackson song "Black Cat" and rewritten it as a sort of ode to "The Raven" told from Lenore's point of view.
The Navajo suggest (assuming The X-files did the proper research) that someone continues to live as long as they're remembered. With that in mind I'm exploring the idea some ghosts may not haunt the earth by choice, but by the unfortunate binding of the living. And I imagine Lenore might have some strong feelings regarding her former lover's refusal to move on, as well as the effect it has on her. (And no pressure, but I've probably spent a total of sixteen hours working on this damn thing, so I expect to hear about all of your experiences performing it at your local karaoke clubs.) Happy Halloween!
Black bird's swan song
This has always been my favorite month, as the whole world seems to become drenched in melancholy while simultaneously liberating itself into a celebration of gallows humor. Halloween is that one holiday out of the year that says, "We're all going to die. Screw it! I'm going down happy!"
I'll get to the blog proper in a minute, but I want to draw your attention to the imaginary carnival I've been creating over the past two years, complete with games and a couple of spook houses. The place needs a name. I'm going to call it Annie's Acropolis, a tourist trap for all ages. There's some backstory behind the name, but no reason to bog you down in details right at the gate. For now, check out some of my past blogs: Decorating the Lawn serves as a decent welcoming, giving you a little personal background as to what Halloween means to me. I've got a soundtrack of ten lesser known Halloween-type songs playing in the background, and a Scooby-Doo pavilion for the kiddies if you were irresponsible enough to bring them (and when you're done watching the old stuff, be sure to pick up a copy of my original story Scooby-Doo's Unsolved Mystery).
A couple of other fun things you can do: check out my review of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, as well as its awful remake (did I spoil it), the first seven Saw films, Alice Cooper's "Welcome to My Nightmare" album and its equally awesome sequel, and we can so a Simpsons Treehouse of Horror marathon. You can also join me in a couple of short stories for a haunted hayride with a few of my fictional characters, and see a recap of Zel's fortune booth from last year. Oh yeah (and this is real) I got to star in an independent horror film called The Ogre, and I wrote a review of it.
But the main draw of carnivals are the haunted house attractions, and I have some of those. If you want a light puzzle, try The Zodiac's Labyrinth for a casual distraction. For something a little more along the lines of a room escape game, visit The Twelfth Toll, my tribute to survival horror video games. I currently have two walkthrough haunted houses for you to enjoy: MTV's House of Horror is based on the golden age of music videos (be sure to count the shout-outs), and The Maul of America is themed after a shopping mall from hell, featuring appearances by many of Universal Studios' original Halloween Horror Nights characters.
Okay, extended commercial over.
One inescapable name in Halloween lore is Edgar Allen Poe (you may have heard of him). Among his contributions to modern detective fiction and literary criticism is the sort of Gothic horror alphabet that has influenced generations of writers.
Poe's monsters were all contained in the human mind, typical that of an intellectual who found himself in conflict with various mental disorders; well before they would be recognized as such. His body of work predated that of Sigmund Freud, but if you look at Poe's essays you can spot early traces of what Freud would later develop into his Id-Ego-Superego model; suggesting both men were driven by the same passion, albeit with very different outlets. I don't use the word 'genius' lightly, but I do believe it applies to Edgar Allen Poe. He had a grasp on language that I could never hope for, and his conclusions regarding the human soul are some of the most brilliant ideas I've ever read on the topic.
But it's also worth acknowledging that Poe was not without his flaws. Among the most easily recognized shortcomings (his essays seethe with arrogance) is Poe's handling of his interchangeably unremarkable female characters. In all of his talent as a writer, he never seemed remotely interested in exploring Morella, Ligeia, and Annabel Lee as anything more than the narrative's McGuffin.
With that notion in mind, I offer up my first official Halloween blog post of 2017. This idea is over twenty years old (yikes) but I decided to finally sit down and hammer it out. I've taken the classic Janet Jackson song "Black Cat" and rewritten it as a sort of ode to "The Raven" told from Lenore's point of view.
The Navajo suggest (assuming The X-files did the proper research) that someone continues to live as long as they're remembered. With that in mind I'm exploring the idea some ghosts may not haunt the earth by choice, but by the unfortunate binding of the living. And I imagine Lenore might have some strong feelings regarding her former lover's refusal to move on, as well as the effect it has on her. (And no pressure, but I've probably spent a total of sixteen hours working on this damn thing, so I expect to hear about all of your experiences performing it at your local karaoke clubs.) Happy Halloween!
Return to Nevermore
On a dreary night
You sit alone
Bathed in candlelight
Your love has flown
Always hanging on
Privo impune
Timbered latticework
Is your cocoon
Then a raven's call
Gives you commands
Busted palisade
Where it stands
I'm trying to tell you boy
It's a charade
You won't feel alive
'Til you've decayed
Don't understand why you exist
The praise you're giving is a primitive lie
I'm not the crime you feign -in vain
Who'll touch your soul, be your angel, and die
Blackbird, lionize
Midnight to sunrise
Gift of superstition
Esprit de corps
Heartbeat humdrum
Into the maelstrom
Using up the man
Lifted nevermore
You're sewn together boy
The sequins have split
You're the pendulum
That circles the pit
Fatal epigrams
With shadows beneath
So catatonic, it's like
I'm pulling teeth
You've been mesmerized
Found in the casks
Seven chambers of
Multiple masques
And you want me to say
Thou art the man
Like your make-believe
Orangutan
Don't understand why you resist
Your serenade is through your spectacle-sight
Sign of malign you take (awake)
The iron groan of a bell out of spite
Not to take my flight
-Lenore
Black bird...
-Lenore
Black bird...
Black bird, no dirge shall I upraise...
A paean of old days
Don't understand why you persist
Don't understand why you persist
My oval painting is a thing of deprive
Tied to your pride and hate, I wait
Just so you'll know I've been buried alive
Black bird's swan song
Heart shapen oblong
Banging on the bricks
From behind the wall
Cognac roses
Gold-Bug composes
Gold-Bug composes
Murdering yourself
And your house will fall
Take it all
Black bird's tether
Quoth Tarr and Fether
Take it all
Black bird's tether
Quoth Tarr and Fether
Living an offense
Through an evil eye
Browbeat wild hog
Torchlight from Hop-Frog
Sever the descent
That you glorify
...Black bird
Browbeat wild hog
Torchlight from Hop-Frog
Sever the descent
That you glorify
...Black bird
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