I recently re-watched James Cameron’s Aliens. I revisit this movie a lot. I was able to catch it last year at Cinerama during their Science Fiction Fest, and it was such a treat to see it on the big screen! I highly recommend catching it in this format if you ever have the opportunity. Every time I watch it, I’m newly excited and inspired by it. Of course, there’s a lot to be excited about: the effects, the action, the sets, the ALIENS! But what really gets me jazzed is the inclusion and downright center-stage spotlight of female characters in an action film.
The renaissance masters, the neoclassicists and the Cubo-expressionists have had enough attention in the world of art criticism. The fact is, some of the greatest works of contemporary visual expression have come from a far less recognized period of creative fertility: the Post-Road Warrior Post-Apocalyptic VHS Box Art Revolution. Rarely has there been such a union of lockstep conformity with abstract digression. Much like the work of the Byzantine mosaicists (spellcheck is telling me that’s actually a word!), the works of the PRWPAVHSBAR were all radically the same, and yet radically different nonetheless. Today we will take a look at just a few of the thousands, possibly millions (or even billions) of 1980’s Max Mad cheapo cash-in crap-fest box covers.
by Zack Carlson
With great social changes rapidly sweeping the nation, it’s time for us to educate the less progressive minds around us on the increasingly important topic of gender identity. Fortunately, America has recently been slapped upside the head with an unmissable transgender news onslaught about a 1930s tennis star or something. But for those out there who are still wrestling with basic comprehension on this topic, the following movies— all available for rental from Scarecrow Video —will only confuse things further:
by Shaun Scott
The mass murderer with a gun and a grudge became a media fixture after the Columbine High School Massacre in 1999. Over time, the initial shock of that cautionary tale wore off because we saw it reenacted. We were allowed to cope with trauma in the most tragic way possible—by seeing it repeated: at Virginia Tech University, in a movie theatre near Chicago, at Sandy Hook Elementary School. Rather than move us to action, the spectacle of galling violence and the subsequent political fallout (and lack thereof) became normalized. The nightly news invited us to count our blessings as a society of individuals who, by and large, have never experienced anything so awful as being gunned-down in a place of worship.
In the United States of America, aggregated tragedy has a way of becoming its own genre. The specific form of violence authored by perpetrators like Dylann Roof is endemic to this era of American life, and we’ve taken its foundations for granted.
What’s the first movie you actually remember watching? Your first tangible memories of a film that you can still replay in your head to this day? For me, it’s not one movie; it’s three movies that came out around the same time–forgotten Swedish cartoon Peter-No-Tail (1981), E.T. The Extra Terrestrial (1982) and The Electric Grandmother (1982). There we have it: apparently, I officially came online at around the age of three and a half.
I have disturbing memories of all these films. Peter-No-Tail, which my parents likely recorded with the Betamax from a cable channel that no longer exists, had a scene where orphan kitten Peter accidently burns down his adopted family’s house. For real. The damned kitty-cat burns a nice Swedish family’s house to the ground. E.T., of course, has the infamous scene where HOLY SHIT E.T. IS TOTALLY WHITE IN A RAVINE, MOMMY WHY IS HE WHITE WHAT IS DEATH AM I GOING TO DIE SOMEDAY? That was pretty bad. But these all pale in comparison with The Electric Grandmother, a sixty-minute installment of something called “NBC’s Project Peacock.” The objective of Project Peacock, apparently, was to fuck children up irrevocably.