Word: marathoning
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...Humanoids from the Deep at the Orson Welles Cinema as part of a 12-hour horror movie marathon in July, and the audience cheered it from first frame to last. They cheered during the rapes; they cheered when the humanoids were killed, disgustingly, one at a time, with blood and intestines splashing lavishly over everything; and they cheered in anticipation when the camera fastened on some woman's ass. I admit to somewhat similar behavior--on a smaller scale--at home in front of my television screen, enjoying a private relationship with the camera (I kid myself that, like James...
...particularly angered by Humanoids, and I asked an Orson Welles staff-member, who claimed to be soliciting feedback, why the film had been programmed. He seemed genuinely puzzled by my outrage, and pointed out that, in terms of audience reaction, it had been the most successful film of the marathon. "And the ending," he said. "Everybody loved the ending...
...denounced the horror genre as sexist, racist, sadistic, whatever, but that attitude has always struck me as priggish and unimaginative. At least until I sat through 12 torturous, claustrophobic hours at the Orson Welles and realized that even I--a horror buff since age six--had my limits. (The marathon did, incidentally, feature three superb films: Georges Franju's Eyes Without a Face, Peter Bogdanovitch's Targets, and Terence Fisher's Frankenstein Created Women, the latter boasting a marvelous performance by the superlative Peter Cushing.) I haven't lost faith in the form: horror has traditionally brought kids through adolescence...
...particularly angered by Humanoids, and I asked an Orson Welles staff-member, who claimed to be soliciting feedback, why the film had been programmed. He seemed genuinely puzzled by my outrage, and pointed out that, in terms of audience reaction, it had been the most successful film of the marathon. "And the ending," he said. "Everybody loved the ending...
...denounced the horror genre as sexist, racist, sadistic, whatever, but that attitude has always struck me as priggish and unimaginative. At least until I sat through 12 torturous, claustrophobic hours at the Orson Welles and realized that even I--a horror buff since age six--had my limits. (The marathon did, incidentally, feature three superb films: Georges Franju's Eyes Without a Face, Peter Bogdanovitch's Targets, and Terence Fisher's Frankenstein Created Women, the latter boasting a marvelous performance by the superlative Peter Cushing.) I haven't lost faith in the form: horror has traditionally brought kids through adolescence...