14 minute read

Sir, the Gravestones are Shaking!

2022, the year Netflix decided to reboot both The Addams Family and The Munsters. Originally, these sitcoms premiered about a week apart back in September 1964. Each ran for 2 seasons and have sporadically re-appeared with various films and series. Other than a few one off specials The Munsters hasn't really had a big hit. On the other hand, The Addams Family has been pretty successful. Sonnenfield's '90s films remain largely popular with Anjelica Houston and Christina Ricci becoming fan favourites in their respective roles.

Fast Forward to 2022 and we have a new series directed by Tim Burton and starring Jenna Ortega. Yet to check this out because first of all I hate Tim Burton and second of all I'm not on board the Jenna Ortega train. This Ortega could be great, she looks incredible and has become quite popular amongst horror crowds. However, she loves to keep this dull innocent persona and a lot of these projects keep sexualising her in a rather infantile way. This womans 20 years old. I know she's had to crawl her way through the Disney Channel heap to get here but if you ask me it's time for a re-think. So hit me up when we get naughty Ortega like when Vanessa Hudgens went off the rails and was bringing out low budget B-Movies verging on sexploitation like Spring Breakers. Show me Good Girl Gone Bad. Love that narrative.

I know she's been in X but she was far too 'sweet' in that, only got my attention when she opted to be in the pornos and her boyfriend had a good cry over it. This should have been her meta transformation from America's angel to dirty devil. So, I see this as a step back for her and as such won't be watching. A director will come along and utilise this young star to her full potential but it isn't going to be a bum like Tim Burton. Edward Shitterhands isn't the one. If he thinks he's got another Winona Ryder he can think again. She was always better in Coppola's Dracula than that lifeless rubbish she put out with Tim.

As expected this Wednesday series has been met with immediate adoration by the nerds who have kept a talentless fuck like Burton in business all these years. His continued appreciation is a mystery not even Benoit Blanc could figure out. Alternatively, The Munsters struggles again with finding its first real hit since the sitcom back in the '60s. Rob Zombie's new film of The Munsters has received its fair share of criticism. Just about everyone has taken the opportunity to berate it where they can. Whilst, in many ways it should be because it is not conventionally good, it is also dripping with a real passion for the original series and old school horror in general. All these aspects, make it so hard to hate and in many ways a guilty pleasure (if I felt even remotely guilty about liking it).

Unfortunately, this puts me in the terrible position once again where it is Scout Tafoya and myself defending a movie. Never met this man and know very little about this critic but he seems like a fucking wacko. Recall, back in 2013, Scout and I were in the minority camp of being The Lone Ranger apologists. Yes, the wild western starring Johnny Depp and cannibal Armie Hammer. When I say I low key love The Lone Ranger, it is not for the same reasons as Scout. He wrote a big piece comparing it to Heaven's Gate, saying it was some masterpiece that deconstructs American myths and some weird liberal nonsense if my memory serves me well.

Swear everything Scout praises is extremely sloppy. No, when I say I low key love The Lone Ranger it is because Balthazar Marie and I have a soft spot for Verbinski's Keatonesque set pieces. It's no more complex than that. Just good old chaotic slapstick. No need to intellectualise it any further. God, I hate when it's just Scout and me in the minority camp, as it probably means I'm wrong.

Defending The Munsters as a 'good' movie is completely pointless. You'll have a hard time trying to convince anyone. How it can become a good time is through a large quantity of alcohol and we're talking a lot. Embracing it as the years best Ed Wood movie is essential to enjoying what it has to offer. For future reference, this will be an award Funeralopolis bestows to one film each year that we believe has failed so spectacularly or undoubtedly achieved total camp that it needs extra gratification.

When the gravestones begin shaking, the production problems pile up, acting of a questionable nature and goofs become as common as dialogue, you have our attention. That's the way Ed Wood did it. That's the way Rob Zombie is doing it here. Self-mockery is more than apparent, so why diss it? There's amazing lines here like when Herman looks at himself in the mirror and goes, "I'm starting to think my material is too intellectual. Maybe I should return to my vaudeville roots". Definitely, a parody of how Zombie's 'intellectual' stabs like Halloween 2 have been received. Quite wholesome too in that Rob was raised in a carnival during his early years. Would happily see him take on something like Nightmare Alley one day.

Unexplainably, The Munsters has a one liner woven in to nearly every line. Pure dad jokes. Aiming admirably low, gotta love it. The badder the better. If you're not being assaulted by these, Zombie is throwing the weirdest looking person you've ever seen on the screen every two minutes. Lily's brother the werewolf is a hard cookie to handle. Prepare yourself, you may cough up a lung every time he appears. Couldn't follow the dialogue at points because Bonehead Bill was on the floor in a heap, rolling round in a fit of laughter during all werewolf appearances. By far, the best scene is when they 'build' Herman Munster. Doesn't matter if you've not seen the show by the way cause this is basically a prequel. Although, I doubt there will be more. Those who have seen the show will know though, Herman has always looked like a rip off of Frankenstein, therefore, Zombie jumps on this joke and has him created in the same fashion. Hurley from Lost and Richard Brake steal the show in this scene, despite minimal screen time. They ham it up the way it should be done. Brake wearing these ridiculous goggles. Zombie shooting it with the comic book

Universal Monster die hards like myself are sure to revel in the exaggerated tone of the proceedings. Where this becomes divisive is in the neon lighting. Initially, Zombie planned to shoot this in black and white but the studio vetoed. He did get his wife in though as Lily Munster of course. Goes without saying. After, the studio rejected his black and white demands, in all fairness to him, Zombie did seek new ways to expand shooting style. His teaser trailer went down well which was a black and white mock trailer set up of the sitcom. Had the surf rock and all suggesting Zombie had nailed the originals appearance. Sadly, the second trailer in colour ruined the movie before it was even released. Couldn't tell you why but everything looked green screened and as though a horrible cheap covid production.

Having now seen the film, the colour trailer didn't entirely do it justice. The electro goth cityscape can be quite a quite a beautiful and unique addition to this old campy genre. Sheri Moon Zombie going for her strolls across town and taking it all in can be enjoyable in a hangout sense. No denying it though, at other moments it does look terrible. So can't really come to a strong final verdict on the look of the film. Other than to say there are times when it is unironically avant-garde and ambitious but others when it falls apart. Black and white has been demonstrated as what would have been the safer option but the bright colour scheme was very striking and brave.

Where the movie is mainly ruined, even for me, is in the pacing. 110 minutes was far too long considering half the appeal here is how much of an unhinged riot it is. Second half when they're searching for their mansion can drag a little. Still, if you take this as 90s/2000s camp kings Spy Kids, Scooby Doo and Batman Forever it isn't all that bad as your Saturday matinee event for the littlens. Strong emphasis on the alcohol requirement. Last year, it would have been fellow metalhead Danzig's Verotika but we weren't established then so this year it's officially The Munsters. Congratulations Rob on winning the Funeralopolis's first Ed Wood Movie of the year award! Go Go Zombie!

As though operating like clockwork, abruptly after Munsters finished, Bonehead Bill stops laughing, adopts a serious face and calls me in to his garage for "a chat". I ask him, "what about?". He repeats once more, "a chat". I'm looking around all baffled and so he speeds things up with a "come on". He sticks a hand out, gesturing me to lead the way. Opening the garage door, I can see the Sandero parked up. I look around wondering if he was showing me something in particular. Nothing seems out the ordinary. Apart from a plastic sheet on the floor for catching paint. My eyes drift to the tools on the wall and the question dawns on me. Am I being whacked? What a strange and peculiar friendship in that this man may kill me at any moment. In fact, it could be said on some bizarre level, that this could be actually what drives it. The total uncertainty keeps one on the toes and provides the zest for life. Should I take a hammer when he's not looking?

Slowly, he walks on over, picks up the hammer, mutters to himself, "that doesn't go there" and parks it down in a different spot. He asks if I can, "straighten up the screwdrivers". I comply and return with, "is that why you wanted to come in here?". He shakes his head for a noticeably extended period of time before finally adding, "the pseuds...what are we doing about the pseuds?". Ah, so that was the purpose of this conversation. Not too sure why this had to take place in the garage but here we are. "Nothing", I replied honestly. "Ooooooh" cries Bonehead like a confrontation just commenced in the Bada Bing. "What?", I responded in total confusion. "They fucking kidnapped you lad and you're not gonna do anything about it?", provokingly pushes Bonehead. Went on to explain how it wasn't a kidnapping about a million times but he wasn't accepting it. So I took another path in explaining that they're just kids and anyway after the Chicago Sun Roof incident, we were square.

"Far from square. Far from fucking square", shouts Bonehead with two fingers pointed at me and a zoot down to the bone in between. He must have forgotten it was there. "You disappoint me, Kelly. The Kelly I heard stories about would have ruined their whole lives in an instant with full disregard for dignity. And he wouldn't have needed a reason for it either", adds Bonehead in an act of persuasion.

I walked around the room, inspecting anything and everything to take my mind off the current situation. Wiping off a bit of dirt from the Sandero's side mirror, all I could think to say was, "that was a long time ago. Times change, brother". I really couldn't be arsed with this conversation. The evening had taken a turn for the stupid. Intelligence last years ghost. Sooner I'd be leaving the premises the better. Bed and a bit of Barry White was the only place to go from here.

"No, no!", refuses Bonehead, "let's look at this from a position of severity. Scales of action. We took a dump in their car. Ok, not the nicest thing to do to someone but under the circumstances...hilarious and I retain that they deserved it. Now, a crime like that, public defecation, carries a maximum of a £100 fine. As for the potential damage to property, that would technically come under temporary impairment at best, so you're looking at compensation. We can agree, the cleaning bill. About an hour of some unlucky fuckers time plus any call out charge. Let's say £50. Tops. Coming to a total of £150. Most importantly, prison time: 0 years, 0 months and 0 days. As for the offence committed by the pseuds. Kidnapping. Shit, that's life. They throw away the key for that shit like you're John Patrick Mason"

I can only stare at this clown and kindly ask, "what the fuck are you talking about?" "Lad I'm talking about the scales of action. The severity of the crimes", he rapidly responds, slapping the back of his left hand in to his right palm. "No-ones going to fucking prison here, what the fuck are you chatting", I interject, "No but ", he tries to get in before I can stop him in his tracks with, "so your argument has no fucking basis here. What are you trying to say here Bonehead? What are you trying to say?".

By now the pair of us both have our heads in our hands and are walking around the garage in circles either screaming, "oh my God!" Or "fucking hell" at each other as we try to argue our points unsuccessfully. Nobody let's another person finish their sentence. We descend in to high pitched nonsensical gibberish. Bonehead begins slamming his hands down on the Sandero in frustration unable to finish his sentence as he screams, "lad, lad, lad!". Not even knowing what to say given the chance, he gives up, let's out an "urgggh!" And volleys the garage door.

Barry White feels like a distant memory. My heads so gone by this point. Enough Bonehead Bill will do that to you. We both take a minute to cool down. Bonehead comes over and says, "let's try this a different way. You remember when they left you out in the peaks, in the freezing cold and you had to walk all that way back. That pissed you off a bit, right?" "Tell me about it", I confirmed. "When you got lost...in the dark, bet that pissed you off even more. Come on you ain't got to lie to me", throws in Bonehead with a smile. "Yeah but that was the other week. I'm over it", I mentioned haphazardly, convincing no-one. "When you got in to my car, you didn't say a word. Don't think I didn't notice that", he continues casually. "Yeah, but ", I say looking for an excuse before I'm silenced with, "Uh, uh, let me finish". "When you got in my car you didn't say a word...", Bonehead shrugs then follows on with, "Face like a smacked arse. If I'm not mistaken you were looking for blood"

At this point I could only laugh. With a solemn look on his face, Bonehead cut me off with, "Don't laugh. They embarrassed you. Let's face it. You got terrored man. Given, it should have been me since I did the dirty in their shitty Corsa. But they got you. That doesn't sound like all square to me. They made a fool of you. I didn't want to say it. But it's true. All that matters is how you deal with it. Look, I've spent a great deal of thought on possible retaliation. I say we go to Def Con 1 on this one". Sometimes this guy loses me. What was he saying? "Def Con 1?", I ask with a screwed up face. "We go to war with the pseuds", Bonehead Bill throws out like it’s the most normal thing in the world. "War?", was all I could muster. Bonehead Bill puts his hand on my shoulder and follows up with, "We're going to war with the pseuds. Say it with me. We're going to war with the pseuds". I said it back with him, "We're going to war with the pseuds". Chuckling, Bonehead begins rubbing my neck and tapping my chest. He must have remembered that down to the bone zoot between his fingers because he re-lights it and hums the riff of Cream's Toad to himself as he bounces on over to the door.

This article is from: