Word: maniacally
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...probably come up with as many examples as I can, but let me remind you of a recent one: television commercials for Prom Night, which is still cleaning up at theaters and drive-ins, showing teenage girls "making themselves beautiful" for that special event, only to encounter a homicidal maniac. (The ads, incidentally, are more successful than the movie, which turns out to be a dull, inept mystery with actresses closer to menopause than high school.) The not-even-subliminal message is Come see the teenage girls get killed! They've got it coming...
...source of irridescent colors, strange and squashy textures, squishing and crunching sounds. Devising these spectacles takes real showmanship, as evidenced by this excerpt from the horror mag Fangoria's interview with "effects wizard" Tom Savini, as he explains the scalping of a woman in his new shocker, Maniac...
...scalpel had tubing glued to its underside... As the maniac moved it through the actress' hair, I was off-camera pumping the blood, which was actually coming out of the scalpel. Then we cut the camera and I spent about 20 minutes rigging her forehead with mortician's wax. The scalpel was dull enough so as not to actually cut her, but was sharp enough to cut through the wax and give the illusion of slicing her flesh. Again the blood came out of the scalpel and shot into the groove being created. We cut the camera once more...
...Coup de Tete" means "hothead" in French and Perrin, Dawaere's shuffling maniac, is certainly a hothead, a clever village idiot who knows, at least what idiocy he has perpetrated. And what idiocy he has not. One frustrating day, when nothing goes right for the luckless Perrin, he decides to leave town, to remove his boyish good looks and soccer talent from the clutches of the petit-bourgeois burghers of Trincamp, a quaint French ville whose occupants lust for a national soccer championship. But before Perrin can escape, the local cops nab him for a rape he didn't commit...
...erstwhile hosts, the lathe operator, from time to time would playfully take aim at me with his M16. Another kept grabbing his hand grenade and explaining to me how the pin could be removed. I pleaded with them to discontinue their antics, since the driver, a speed maniac who for reasons best known to himself wore a gas mask, kept zooming at 40 m.p.h. through alleys full of shouting humanity. I felt like one of those G.I.s who rode through liberated Paris or Rome during World War II. Kwangju, after all, had been 'liberated' by its youth power...