LITERAL REMAINS

“My name is Wilfred Leland James, and this is my confession.  In June of 1922 I murdered my wife, Arlette Christina Winters James, and hid her body by tupping it down an old well.”

Thus begins the first, and best, story, “1922″ in this Stephen King collection.  None of the stories are bad, but the three that follow- “Big Driver”, “Fair Extension”, and “A Good Marriage”- just can’t compete with the compelling narrative that is “1922″.  Wilfred James kills his wife because she wants to sell off their farm, including the adjoining land willed to her by her late father, and move to the big city.  Plus, Arlette (who was adverse to farm life) really wasn’t the most pleasant person; rather uncouth, rude, crude, and downright mean at times.  Preying upon their teen son, Henry, and his desire to not relocate, especially since he’s sweet on the neighbor girl, Wilfred enlists him to help commit the crime and cover it up.  Their best laid plans, though, as if we shouldn’t expect this, soon go awry.  What follows is a seemingly mild mannered man’s downward spiral into guilt and madness.

It’s kind of a shame that “1922″ is the first story in Full Dark, No Stars, because the stories that follow, though they aren’t bad, just don’t shine as bleakly black and marvelously macabre as “1922″.  They’re good, but “1922″ is the only one I wish King would have made into a full blown novel.  It pulled me in and blew me away.  The rest are interesting, with intriguing premises, but are simply not as compelling or as obsessively readable.

In “Big Driver”, Tess, a mystery writer, finds herself on the wrong road after a speaking engagement in a small town.  What may not be a chance encounter turns into a life and death battle.  With a story like this, dealing with a woman’s brutal rape and her revenge, it could have gone down the wrong road itself, turning into horrible exploitation or really bad grindhouse drivel.  That it doesn’t, and remains classy and suspenseful, proves that Stephen King still knows his stuff.  ”Big Driver” is the best of the rest.

“Fair Extension”, about a man who makes a deal with the Devil for not only to save his life but for the ruination of his best friend, feels like the odd man out in this story collection.  Nestled between “Big Driver” and “A Good Marriage”, which concerns a woman who discovers her husband has a dark, sinister, secret side, “Fair Extension” feels more like a pit-stop, or a bump in the road, than it does anything else.  Padding, I would say.  Good fluff, but fluff nonetheless.

I recommend Full Dark, No Stars on the strength of “1922″ alone, but you won’t be let down by the rest of the tales either.  These are good stories about the darker sides of humanity, and it shines as King still doing what he does best.

4.5 out of 5
John Jason

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Every holiday has its own color scheme.  Red and green are most associated with Christmas; red, white, and blue is American Independence; Easter has a nice nauseating rainbow of pastels; and Thanksgiving…well, it has all the earth tones, and, frankly, I don’t know the color for gluttony (we all suffer from it, though).  And it is Halloween that is best viewed in black and orange.

Different colors signify different things in our society.  Green signifies go, or jealously; yellow can mean caution; blue cold; red represents hot.  Or stop.  I mention that because I ran a red light the other night.  And a stop sign.  But that’s beside the point.

Most every Halloween decoration includes black and orange, unless it’s some Precious Moments crap, and then it’s not really Halloween, is it?  In our modern society, though, as times have changed, the decorations have advanced considerably.  I’m not complaining, there are a lot of top-notch decorations and props to be utilized, some quite scary, some quite graphic, and a lot of them just plain cool.  But give me a homemade scarecrow or an amateur-carved jack 0′ lantern and I’m good to go.   It all goes back to the black and the orange, though, and there are some misconceptions about those colors, especially the color black.

Black, it seems, has always denoted evil in our culture.  In the old B-movie Westerns, you could identify the bad guy because he wore a black hat; the good guy wore white.  Bad, dangerous, magic is Black Magic.  A Satanic Mass is a Black Mass.  Black has always been bad.  Black is the color also associated with death, and since Halloween is a time to honor the dead, the two just go together.  Black, however, is a color used by modern witches and Wiccans to ward off evil spirits, to neutralize bad energy and to vanquish negativity.  Thus the use of black candles in many ceremonies.

As we all know, Halloween originates from the ancient celebration of Samhain.  What color best represents Fall and the harvest season than orange?  It’s the color of pumpkins, Autumn leaves, and bonfires, such as the ones that were lit during the original Samhain festivals.  This Halloween, burn an orange candle to strengthen not only your health and luck, but also your concentration.  Light black and orange candles this Halloween, not just for mood, but also welcome the spirits of the departed.

John Jason

For further reading, I strongly urge you to seek out Gerina Dunwich’s book A Witch’s Halloween.  This is essential reading for those not just interested in Wicca, but the history of Halloween as well.  I can’t recommend it enough.  It was the source for this article, and many past ones, and future ones as well.

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The great C.L. Moore is responsible for creating Northwest Smith, a forerunner of Han Solo and Indiana Jones.  Think Northwest Smith as a space cowboy, an interstellar pirate, a charming rogue.  Han and Indy, they got nothing on Northwest of Earth.  Moore’s first Northwest story was Shambleau, and it was not only her first professional story to sell to a magazine (Weird Tales, November 1933), it remains one of the more popular Northwest stories, as it merges great, Golden Age science fiction and horror.  A truly weird tale.

While in a market place on Mars, Northwest first meets Shambleau as an angry mob chases after her, ready to kill her.  Northwest steps in to save the day, fending off the lynch mob to spare the woman’s life.  He claims the woman, whom he soon discovers to be very much not human, as his own.  This seems to repulse the raging masses, but they quickly disperse thanks to Northwest’s sidearm.  If only Northwest knew that the woman’s name wasn’t Shambleau, but what she is.  A shambleau is a vampiric creature that feeds off the life-force of her victims.

You’ll find echoes of the Medusa myth in Shambleau, plus a good helping of fun and chills.  I suggest that if you have never read C.L. Moore, or her groundbreaking space cowboy, you should check them out.

John Jason

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2 eggs, slightly beaten
3/4 cup sugar
1 1 lb. can pumpkin (or 2 cups fresh, roasted in the oven then pressed through a strainer)
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. ginger
1/4 tsp. cloves
1 2/3 cups evap. milk (1 can)
1/2 tsp. allspice
9 oz pie crust pastry (enough for two single standard pie crusts)

Bake the pie filling only (no crust) in a large greased casserole dish in hot oven (425F) for 15 minutes. Keep oven door closed and reduce temp to moderate (350 degrees F/180 degress Celsuis) and continue baking for 45 minutes or until table knife inserted in center of dish comes out clean. Cool on wire rack.

Make or purchase pie crust pastry. Roll thin and cut into circles approx 4″ in diameter. Put a spoonful of the cool pumpkin mixture towards one side of the center of the circle. Fold over the crust into a half-circle and firmly crimp the edges closed. Slice three small slits in the top for venting, place on a greased cookie sheet, and bake only until crust is a light golden-brown. The pumpkin filling will begin to make the crust soggy, so best baked the day of serving. Can be made ahead by freezing the assembled pasties unbaked on cookie sheets, then thawed and baked the day of serving. Great served at room-temperature.

Makes about 3 dozen miniature pasties.

Recipe and image originally found at Britta Blvd

Suffering from recent traumatic events, newspaper photographer Pamela Garret (Krista Grotte) is trying to put the pieces of her life back together.  After the murder of her husband (a former priest), it’s really not that easy, though, and life in the big city provides her with plenty of gruesome ugliness to document which does little to help her forget and move on.

Luckily, her boss (Stephen Geoffreys) provides her with an easy-breezy, simple-as-pie assignment:  take pictures of some politicians for the (hopefully scandalous) election season.  While on assignment, Pamela stumbles upon a crime in progress– a man being chased.  She follows, taking pictures, and even witnesses the man’s murder by the blood-hungry group that harried him down.

Pamela, of course, realizes she has seen too much and runs like hell, barely escaping the murderous gang of strangers.  Naturally, this is only the beginning of her troubles.  Her friend, Dylan (Brooke McCarter), a journalist, puts his skills to the task of helping Pamela unravel the mystery murder, and so does a friend of her late husband’s, a friend who is still a man of the cloth, when a lot of really strange phenomena begin to afflict Pamela.  People not only want those pictures from Pamela, but there is something far more evil afoot, and far more not natural coming for Pamela.  It’s something that not wants Pamela, but proves deadly to those around her as well.

If you’re looking for a fun horror movie, you should give Emerging Past a spin.  It’s a competent, sometimes disorienting, somewhat mind-bending, slice of thrill house fun.  Writer and director Thomas Churchill and his cast and crew have crafted an entertaining midnight selection just right for watching with a group of friends.  And speaking of the cast, Brooke McCarter is the best; he is reason enough to watch.  And Stephen Geoffreys is delightfully zany.

John Jason

After the sudden and tragic death of her parents, Erica Falck returns to her hometown of Fjällbacka to settle their estate.  Her sister and brother-in-law want to sell the house; actually, it’s mainly her brother-in-law wanting to sell off the house, her sister is just kowtowing to his demands.  But she is there, uprooted and back in her childhood home, questioning what she’s going to do with her life, wondering what she has accomplished already at age 35, trying to deal with her grief, trying to change her sister’s mind, and also working to finish writing a biography that is nearing its deadline.

To complicate matters, her best friend from childhood, Alex, whom she has had little contact with over the years, is found dead in a bathtub, her wrists slashed. By all accounts, Alex was not a candidate for suicide.  Successful, full of life, and always sure of herself, Alex’s suicide is quickly discovered to be a murder.  Erica tackles this mystery, wanting to ease Alex’s parents’ suffering, and to do one last thing for her former childhood friend.  Helping her in this endeavor is Patrik Hedström, another friend from childhood, who is now a police detective working the case.

As you can imagine, Erica and Patrik form more than a working relationship.  That little side story is what helps to make The Ice Princess an enjoyable read.  Camilla Läckberg has created two very genuine, very real and down to earth, characters in Erica and Patrik, and they are two characters that are instantly recognizable and enduring.  Their frustrations, neuroses, and their courtship is relatable.  The scene where they are in their separate houses getting dressed for their evening together is one of the best, and most honest, passages to be found in crime fiction, or any fiction.  It’s funny because it’s true.

Now, all that aside, it’s also those passages that seem to derail this crime fiction entry at times.  There is a lot happening, several little subplots, and it feels crowded here and there.  The side stories don’t help to make the central mystery too compelling.  These are minor troubles, though, and maybe a weak complaint on my part, because Läckberg ties everything together nicely, and makes the end result a great little read.  She fills The Ice Princess with wit, suspense, and nice touches of reality.

Crime and mystery fans, be it those interested in small towns with secrets to hide, or those, like me, who have developed an interest in Scandinavian crime literature (thank you Stieg Larsson) should be sure to pick up this book.  I look forward to reading more of Camilla Läckberg’s adventures of Erica and Patrik in Fjällbacka .

4.5 out of 5
John Jason

Supplies Needed:
white knit glove
3-4″ round paper mache box
cotton batting
cardboard
craft foam in yellow and black
glitter glue: gold, orange, pink
2 jumbo craft sticks
black marker
acrylic paint in white and black
crackle medium
hot glue gun
toothpick
scissors
paintbrush
patterns

Instructions:
Fill the glove with cotton batting, ensuring that all fingers are full and half of the palm.

Dot on ghost eyes using the handle end of a paintbrush dipped in black paint. Use a smaller dot of white on top of that, then dot on a black spot with a toothpick.

Use glitter glue to add bow ties, buttons and a tie (see photo), set aside to dry.

Paint entire outside surface of the paper mache box with black paint. Allow to dry.

Apply crackle medium according to directions on the bottle, a medium coat works well. Allow it to dry for 15-25 minutes, until tacky but not completely dry. Next apply a medium coat of white paint over the crackle on the box. Do not excessively brush, one or two strokes is enough. Let dry, crackle will begin to work within minutes.

Mix together some black and white paint to make gray. Paint the craft sticks gray and set aside.

Using the printable pattern, cut the graveyard sign and 2 tombstones from cardboard. Paint all of them gray and set aside to dry.

Cut moon from yellow foam and all three bats from black foam.

Use black marker to write RIP and “Here lies a” on the tombstones (you will not see more than that once craft is complete).

Shade the craft sticks, sign and the headstones with black paint, highlight with a little white. Write the words “Rattlin’ Bones Graveyard” across the sign with black marker.

Place a handful of cotton batting into the box. Place the glove inside the box. If the height looks good, glue it all in. If not, remove or add batting below the glove to adjust.

Place some batting in front of the ghosts, but don’t glue it in just yet. Position the headstones where you want them, then glue them in, adding and gluing batting as you go.

Add more batting to the back of the box behind the ghosts and place craft sticks behind ghosts, do not glue just yet. Position sticks, one higher than the other, so that the sign will be slanted downward. Hold the sign up to the sticks to make sure that they line up. Hot glue the sign to the sticks FIRST, then glue the ends of the sticks into the box. Add more batting if needed.

Glue the large bat to the front left side of the sign and the medium bat behind the sign on the same side (refer to photo). Glue the yellow moon behind the sign on the right side and glue the small bat to the moon.

Adjust and glue any loose batting.

This craft was originally found at Allfreecrafts.com. 

For the Wednesday biographies this October I thought I’d profile some of the horror authors that, possibly, have fallen through the cracks, that maybe do not have as wide an audience as one would think.  Of course, with H.P. Lovecraft, it would be assumed that his fan base is firmly established.  Which it is, but I’ve been surprised at how many people I know who have heard of him, but have never read any of his work.  In fact, like some of my friends, I knew his name, I knew the titles of some of his stories, had seen a couple of movie adaptations of his works, but had never read a single Lovecraft story until about four years ago.  So, for those who may know in passing, or may have heard mention of, the Cthulhu Mythos and the fabled tome of forbidden knowledge known as the Necronomicon, I want to share a little history of the man who was called a moderate socialist, who may have been racist (or just a product of his time), and was, by all accounts, an iconoclastic hermit who died in 1937 suffering from cancer and malnutrition.

Howard Phillips Lovecraft, an only child, was born on August 20th, 1890, at his family’s home in Providence, Rhode Island.  His mother, Sarah Susan Phillips Lovecraft, was descended from original New England stock dating back to the 17th century Massachusetts Bay Colony.  His father, Winfield Scott Lovecraft, a traveling salesman, became psychotic while on a business trip in Chicago and was brought back to Providence to be committed to Butler Hospital, where he stayed until his death in 1898.  It is not clear if the young Lovecraft ever knew the true cause of his father’s mental breakdown, which was syphilis.  His mother would be committed to Butler Hospital in 1919 afflicted with hysteria and depression.

After the death of his father, H.P. Lovecraft’s boyhood home included extended family– his mother’s two sisters and her father.  His grandfather, Whipple Van Buren Phillips, instilled and encouraged in him a love of poetry and classic world literature.  Whipple not only provided his grandson with copies of The Iliad and The Arabian Nights, but also regaled his young grandson with his own original horror stories.  Who knows for sure, but these may have been the cause of Lovecraft’s night terrors which plagued him from an early age.

Young Lovecraft was somewhat of a little tyrant, or a maybe even a brat.  He hardly went to school before the age of eight, and then his mother withdrew from school a year later.  It would be four years before he would attend public school again.  But when not in school, Lovecraft continued his education independently, indulging his loves of astronomy and chemistry.  Thanks to illness, he would not graduate high school.

In his youth, Lovecraft’s output was mainly poetry and essays, giving little thought to fiction.  It wasn’t until 1914 when he joined the United Amateur Press Association, thanks to a series of letters to the editor of The Argosy critiquing some of their stories, that he began a more serious attempt at fiction writing.  Also, thanks to the UAPA, his hermit existence became a little less solitary outside of his mother, exchanging letters with other Press Association members.  In fact, Lovecraft was an obsessive letter writer; he wrote friends frequently, and he wrote very long, very extensive letters.  His letter writing far exceeds his professional output– fiction, poetry, and essays combined.

Lovecraft is most famous for his Cthulhu Mythos.  ”The Call of Cthulhu”, “At The Mountains of Madness” and other stories explain how Cthulhu and the other Elder Gods, or the Great Old Ones, powerful deities from beyond the stars, took over Earth in its infancy, then fell into hibernation under the oceans and in the earth.  When humans are afforded a glimpse, or gain knowledge into these all but forgotten gods, madness and insanity ensue.  With the Cthulhu Mythos, Lovecraft became one of the first, if not the first, to write about cosmic horror.

During is lifetime, Lovecraft published in the popular pulp magazines of the day, and those periodicals were oftentimes late on their low payments.  He didn’t receive a lot of popularity, at least not the popularity and recognition he holds today as one of the greatest, and most influential, of 20th century horror writers.

John Jason

For further information on H.P. Lovecraft’s life and works, visit The H.P. Lovecraft Archive.

Author Brian Moreland’s new novel, Dead of Winter, does something that seems really almost rare:  much like the films The Burrowers and the darkly brilliantly Ravenous, Moreland succeeds at mixing the horror and western genres.  With echoes of The Thing, The Exorcist, and even The Shining, spiced with Native American folklore and legend, vivid period detail, and finely developed characters, Dead of Winter will be hard pressed to be beat as one of the best books of the year.

The Indians of the Great Lakes region believe that a shape-shifter roams the forest each winter.  They claim it is a spirit that can rise from the ground as a sudden snowstorm.  It can shape-shift into animals or walk bipedal like a man, often in the form of a skeletal creature that has long claws and fangs like icicles.  In its most monstrous form, the windigo can walk as high as the trees.  The beast has a ravenous appetite that can never be satiated.  So it devours every animal and man it comes upon.  Hunters have claimed that the sound of the windigo’s scream can cause a man to get confused, and if the hunter escaped he would become a windigo himself.

When a disease spreads through the Manitou Outpost in the wild Ontario wilderness, turning people into cannibalistic monstrosities, a lone little girl escapes.  A hunting party from Fort Pendleton finds her while searching for a woman missing from their outpost.  Frozen and sick, the girl, Zoe, is brought back to the fort by Inspector Tom Hatcher, a man running from his own personal demons.  The girl is unable to tell them what happened, and the only clue to the mystery is a journal she carries that belongs to Father Jacques, the Jesuit priest stationed at Manitou Outpost.  The journal has written instructions for it to be delivered to Father Xavier in Montreal, for he and the Jesuits are the only ones who will know how to stop the plague that is spreading.

But with blizzards making travel difficult and almost impossible, getting the journal to Montreal doesn’t seem to be the top priority.  Until, that is, whatever sickness afflicted the Manitou Outpost begins to rear it’s horrific head at Fort Pendleton.  The fort’s good doctor tries to contain the disease by containing Zoe to the sick bed, but what they are fighting against they do not know, and it’s doubtful they could ever understand it– be it a virus, a wilderness legend, or something far worse evil.

Dead of Winter starts at a run, and even during those moments of creeping, delicately balanced, suspense, Moreland never lets up.  I was a major fan and supporter of Brian Moreland’s first novel, Shadows In the Mist, and I am pleased to say that he has only improved with his second offering, and there wasn’t really any need for improvement.   With Shadows, when not in the thick of the action, the more dramatic moments felt a little hammy at times.  Not so with this book.  Moreland has matured with Dead of Winter, with a better grip of the emotional and more dramatic sides of the story.

 Dead of Winter  doesn’t skip out on the blood, gore, and chills, but it is also a fine example of a horror story being more than just something going bump in the night or characters being ripped apart.  Brian Moreland, along with Joe McKinney, is at the forefront of horror writers who don’t forget the humanity.  This is the way horror should be written.

5 out of 5
John Jason

There are a lot of legends, folklore, and old wives’ tales floating around the campfire or told in whispers in a darkened parlor room on a stormy night.  There is a lot of lore associated with All Hallow’s Eve, some fun, some scary, some silly, and some of it disturbing.  I thought I’d share with you today a little something that I enjoy that’s not just for Halloween, and a little something that I learned just this morning.

There is an old tale, a superstition, that if you whistle while passing a cemetery, a spirit will follow you home.  I have done this several times, because, I mean, why would you resist?  It’s too tempting to resist.  I know you all agree with me.  I am proud to admit that some years ago when my nephew was much younger, I got him to doing it, too.  It’s just a kick to hear a six year old whistling as you drive passed a graveyard.  It’s also a kick to hear a six year old belting along with Queen on “Fat Bottomed Girls”, but that’s a story for another day.

But if you’re not into the whole “let’s have a wandering spirit follow us home” thing, then this next little morsel may be more your style.  While doing some reading this morning, I learned that when you pass a cemetery, you should hold your breath.  Why?  Quite simple:  so you don’t make the dead jealous.

John Jason

It’s Sunday, October the Two, and you know what that means:  our first Short Story Sunday.  Save some of that excitement, we got plenty more days to go until the big 31.

I put a lot of thought (kinda) into what should be our first short story recommendation for the 2011 countdown.  I looked over the list of the stories, the authors, and then I hit upon the idea, “Hey, why don’t we start with a story I wrote?”  I actually answered myself, then vetoed that answer and decided to go with the idea anyway.  That’s the kind of guy I am.

So, for our first story of the month I offer for your reading pleasure the short, sweet, and personal favorite of mine, “Charlie”.  It’s a nice little ghost story to entertain you for a few moments, and it was inspired by some actual events, including a personal supernatural experience.

Sit back, while the wind is whipping outside, and enjoy the story of a woman haunted by an unknown entity and the bond that develops between them.

John Jason

It’s Saturday, so that’s recipe day for the Countdown (don’t ask me why, it just worked out that way).  Since it’s the first, I thought we’d start with something simple, kinda break us in nice and easy like.

6 hard-boiled eggs (separated into whites and yolks)
1/3 cup creme fraiche
1/4 crumbled, cooked bacon (optional)
1 teaspoon sriracha or other spicy asian chili sauce
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro
1/2 teaspoon spicy mustard
1/4 lime zest
1 teaspoon lime juice
salt to taste
red food coloring
sliced black olives

Hardboil the eggs, slice lengthwise, and put all the yolks into a mixing bowl. Mash all ingredients except olives together with the cooked yolks and add food coloring until the yolks are the desired color. Spoon yolk mixture back into egg whites. Top each half with a sliced olive as the pupil. Dip a toothpick into the red food coloring and lightly draw “bloodshot” veins across the whites.

Recipe and image originally found at Britta Blvd

Yes, let’s have new beginnings.  My postings here have been spotty, again.  I know, I know, and I am going to try to do better.  It’s a been a wild few weeks, you know, ups and downs, ins and outs, this ways and that ways.  It’s enough to push a person over the brink to madness….

But it’s October 1st. Finally.  And what better time to make a new start than now, my friends.  Can’t you feel the change in the air?  Can’t you smell Autumn on the breeze, see it in the setting sun, hear it in the rustle of the leaves?  October isn’t just a rare month for boys, it’s a rare month for everyone.  It’s almost Halloween, and I think we need to raise some hell.  We have such sights to show you indeed.

For our third annual October Countdown, I thought I’d follow the pattern of last year’s countdown.  If you don’t know what that was, just check out last year’s fun.  Fright films, scary stories, seasonal food, and crafts with the (creepy) kiddies.

So, it’s a fresh start for us all, once more.  Let’s get this monster mash started, renew our sinister vows, and get jiggy with the dark side.

Please, enter, and leave some of the happiness you bring….

John Jason

Maybe I expected too much of Cowboys & Aliens.  I mean, I really wanted to see this movie.  Who wouldn’t want to see this movie?  Daniel Craig (James Bond), Harrison Ford (Indiana Jones), cowboys, aliens, Native Americans.  Maybe I set my expectations too high.  I don’t think I did, I just wanted to be entertained and have some fun watching, you know, cowboys and aliens.  Maybe something like Josey Welles stumbles into War of the Wolds.  But no, that’s not this movie.  I could have passed on this movie.  But that’s life, it’s a gamble.

WARNING:  FROM THIS POINT ON THERE MAY BE SPOILERS.  READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Daniel Craig plays Jake Lonergan, although he wakes up in the middle of the prairie and doesn’t know his name or where he is or anything.  His memory has been wiped clean.  Lonergan is injured, and has a big metal bracelet on his wrist.  He quickly defeats a posse that has found him, takes some of their clothes, boots, and a gun, and then heads into a little backwater town called Absolution that is fast approaching ghost status.

In Absolution, Lonergan breaks into a house to rest only to be met by the local preacher and shotgun.  The preacher takes pity on him and bandages him up.  Lonergan is in the local saloon in no time flat, meeting a mysterious woman who seems to know all about him, and finding trouble with the local authorities and the local rich guy, the war veteran Col. Dolarhyde (Ford).  If you are thinking, much as I did briefly, that Dolarhyde may be in reference to the big baddie from Red Dragon, think again– Ford’s character is nowhere near as captivating, scary, or disturbingly interesting.

It’s not long before the aliens come raining down some violence and the metal wrist thing on Lonergan’s arm lights up and delivers some extra-terrestial butt kicking.  The townsfolk organize and decide to go after the aliens to get back their friends and loved ones whom the aliens have abducted.

I don’t know who is to blame for this overlong mess of a genre mash-up.  Do we blame director Jon Favreau, or one of the five screenwriters, or all of them?  The first half of the movie is good, the last half just tune out and try to enjoy the pony and light show as best you can.  It gets boring in that last act.  By the time it was over with, I had lost all interest, and just didn’t care anymore.  I was happy to see the end credits grace the screen.

A lot of the action felt ripped off from better movies, even one set piece that made me want to go home right then and watch Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  Maybe by the time this flick comes out on DVD, I’ll be in the mood to try to watch it again, and to understand it.  Maybe.

2 out of 5

John Jason
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